An abstract trainer who taught Charmander the Incinerate move

Chapter 151 The farce is over (A new and exciting plot begins)
As Homiga completely lost consciousness in Mo Zhen's arms, the interwoven electronic music that had been the lifeline sustaining the miracle of the battlefield came to an abrupt end.

The thunderous energy that filled the air and could stimulate Poison-type Pokémon to regenerate violently dissipated instantly.

Without the continuous "recharging" from the rock music scene, those poison-type spirits, who were like cockroaches that could never be killed, visibly and rapidly declined in condition.

The swirling purple light of the gas bomb, like a candle flickering in the wind, slumped to the ground, unable to exhale even a wisp of smoke.

The massive body of Dust Mountain trembled violently, its heavy roar turning into a painful whimper, before it collapsed to its knees.

The centipede king's scarlet compound eyes dimmed, its ferocious charge became unsteady, and its few supporting legs trembled and bent...

Even more terrifying is that the poison-type elves who defected to Mo Zhen's side under the influence of Homiga's rock music are now being brutally suppressed by the remaining officers of the Poison Smoke Team.

The Poison Smoke team members, their faces contorted with rage, pulled out Poké Balls, which shimmered with a powerful red restraining light, and hurled them fiercely at the weakened defectors.

"receive!"

With a cold command, several powerful beams of light shot out, precisely enveloping the struggling molten beasts and tank skunks.

The Poké Ball unleashes a powerful suction force the moment it touches them, forcibly twisting, compressing, and pulling them back into the ball and imprisoning them!
The defecting elves let out unwilling cries, but they could not resist the constraints of the sphere's rules, and their figures vanished instantly.

The chaos inside the warehouse seemed to have been forcibly paused.

Akromar pushed aside the wreckage blocking his way and walked step by step toward the center of the battlefield.

His face, which had been twisted and out of control due to a series of accidents and the Homiga mutation, was now covered with a cold mask again.

He elegantly dusted off his white coat, his gaze behind his glasses sweeping over Mo Zhen's side, whose formation was slightly disrupted by the elves' defeat.

"Hmph, variable clearing."

Akroma's voice returned to its usual flat tone, looking down at Mo Zhen, who was holding Homiga.

"What a wonderful farce, Director Mo Zhen? An out-of-control actor, a bunch of impromptu audience members, a hallucination-based... carnival? Now, the stage lights are off, the actors have left the stage, and your pitiful 'miracle' has been exhausted."

He tilted his head slightly, with the mocking look of a scientist examining a failed experiment.

“Tell me, what’s the final trick in this carefully orchestrated play? Is it that useless yellow lizard? That blue dog that’s about to fall apart? Or this bunch of…”

He glanced disdainfully at Carbin and the others, whose faces had turned pale from the defeat of the Poison-type Pokémon.

"A rabble terrified out of their wits?"

Carbin's finger unconsciously tightened on the trigger, the click of the empty chamber particularly jarring in the brief silence.

Her face was deathly pale, her eyes quickly scanning the listless elf and the approaching Poison Smoke Squad thugs, her breathing rapid.

"Damn it! We're almost out of firepower! And the elves too..."

Thomson was at a loss, holding the newly degenerated and weak speaker, his voice trembling with tears.

"Lord! What...what do we do now?! We're surrounded!"

Even the usually composed Gatling frowned deeply.

The Gatling gun barrel in his hand was still hot, but facing an enemy that had regained its footing and still outnumbered him, he felt unprecedented pressure.

All eyes, filled with last hope and an indescribable dependence, instantly focused on Mo Zhen.

The man in the red suit who orchestrated all the dramatic twists and turns of the night remains the calmest presence at the center of the storm.

He gently handed the unconscious Homiga to the handsome man beside him for support, his movements calm and unhurried.

Faced with Akromah's provocation and his own panic, he simply and calmly straightened the cuffs of his suit that Homiga had wrinkled.

With a languid and mysterious smile on his face, his relaxed artist aura remained undiminished, as if what lay before him was not a dead end, but rather the beginning of the next act of the performance.

"What's the rush? The show's only halfway through. This farce should end now..."

His gaze fell on the huge hole blasted open in the warehouse, and the several entrances that were twisted and deformed by the impact, as if it could penetrate the steel and the darkness.

"After watching the play for so long, it's time for the audience outside to come in and perform!"

Gatling and Carbin were startled by what they heard and almost simultaneously turned to look at the dark area outside the warehouse that had swallowed the sounds of gunfire and rain.

boom--

Gatling's massive fist slammed into the container next to him, producing a dull thud.

"Damn it! Those bastards! Are they still watching the show?! Are they waiting for us all to die before they'll make a move?!"

Carbin gritted her teeth, her beautiful eyes blazing with resentment.

"Colt! Desert Eagle! Barrett! Hellfire! These bastards... but now we can only count on them..."

This humiliation of being forced to place their hopes on being bystanders filled them with anger and helplessness.

"Hope? No, they will definitely make their appearance!"

He stood like a conductor under a spotlight, gracefully spreading his hands.

"Miss Homiga's soulful rock performance and the brief miracle of the speaker 'Speaker Cracker' were the best signal flares for them. Having watched enough of the show and confirmed that their prey was exhausted, the vultures, smelling the blood, naturally had time to step in... and feed."

His words, laced with cold insight, laid bare the greedy, calculating minds of the onlookers, and revealed a confidence that he possessed a scripted masterful control over the entire war's course. Mo Zhen's words hadn't even finished—

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Violent explosions came simultaneously from the sturdy doors and side walls of the warehouse from several directions, and even from the edges of the large holes that had been smashed open!

The heavy metal door was blown off by directional explosives and slammed heavily onto the cargo pile inside.

Amidst the smoke and fire, Colt, the head of District Seven, took the lead.

His expensive dark suit remained impeccably tailored amidst the dust and smoke, and a smug, triumphant grin adorned his face.

Behind them were elite, fast-fire squads, as fierce as wolves and tigers, well-equipped and armed, their guns spitting fire like a surging black tide!
Desert Eagle, an exceptionally tall and towering officer from the Fifth District, wielding two Desert Eagles, stepped directly through the massive hole created by the Toad King.

The icy seawater washed over his military boots, but he didn't care.

Behind him were more armed personnel wearing various tactical vests, exuding a murderous aura.

Through the broken ventilation duct opening, Barrett, the head of the Third District, appeared like a ghost, the barrel of his sniper rifle gleaming coldly in the dim light.

He slid down silently, landing as lightly as a cat, his sharp gaze sweeping across the entire room in an instant, a cold smile playing on his lips.

Following closely behind was Hellfire from the Fourth District, who carried a flamethrower, grinning as he lit the nozzle, eager to try it out.

The cadres from the Second, Sixth, and Eighth Districts also led their trusted men and swarmed in through different gaps.

In an instant, the warehouse seemed to have turned into a boiling furnace of slaughter!
Like sharks smelling blood, the officers of the seven districts of the Quick-Fire Squad, each with their own elite troops, surged in from all directions, both above and below ground.

Gunfire, explosions, and shouts of battle were deafening, instantly engulfing the remaining poison smoke squad!
The scene was grand and chaotic, filled with a devastating sense of destruction.

Carbin abruptly released his grip on the empty gun, his face revealing for the first time a look of relief and unbelievable ecstasy.

"They're here! They're really here!"

Thomson hugged the speaker and jumped up excitedly.

"YES! The big boss is awesome! Vultures... uh, no, reinforcements have arrived!"

The handsome man supporting Homiga was greatly encouraged and straightened his back.

"Fuck, they're finally here. I almost thought I was going to die today. I was just getting ready to fire my last shot..."

The hope of victory was like a shot of adrenaline injected into everyone's hearts, and morale instantly soared to its peak.

Faced with this sudden and overwhelming force pouring in from all directions, the remaining members of the poison smoke team and cadres were instantly thrown into complete chaos and panic.

"what happened?!"

"The entire quick-draw squad is here?!"

"It's over! We're surrounded!"

Screams and desperate cries rose and fell.

Like ants thrown into a pot of boiling oil, they instantly lost all organization, fighting individually or fleeing in disarray.

Akroma watched the scene unfold below with cold indifference, his glasses reflecting a chilling white light, remaining silent.

Just as Mo Zhen's side was basking in the euphoria of reinforcements arriving and victory seemingly in sight, the Poison Smoke Team was plunged into the abyss of despair—

Colts, Desert Eagles, Barretts, Hellfires... stormed into the warehouse.

All the cadres from the seven districts, along with their elite subordinates, paused briefly and in perfect unison as their initial charge slowed and they assessed the situation.

brush--!!!
It's as if we're being simultaneously controlled by an invisible conductor's baton.

All the quick-fire squad officers and their elite men who rushed in did not point their guns at the chaotic remnants of the poison smoke squad, nor at Akroma on the high ground, but instead locked onto the same target!
The figure standing in the middle of the battlefield ruins, wearing a striking red suit—Mo Zhen!
The deafening gunfire inside the warehouse seemed to vanish eerily at that moment.

All that remained was the symphony of death, a chorus of countless guns being cocked and their safety released.

Time stood still.

At least dozens of red dots, like the forked tongues of venomous snakes, appeared densely on Mo Zhen's glaring red suit, converging into a mark of death!

The ecstasy on Carbin's face instantly froze into boundless horror and bewilderment.

Thomson's smile froze on his face.

Gatling's eyes widened.

The handsome guy supporting Homiga was so frightened he almost let go!

The situation took a sharp turn for the worse, more abrupt than the most absurd drama!

Just a moment ago he was a savior, now a gun is pressed against the director's forehead!
Snapped!
A crisp, calm snap of the fingers, like the final rest note, clearly pierced through this deathly silence.

Akroma slowly lowered his hand, his cold lenses sweeping over Mo Zhen, who was being pointed at by countless gun barrels, and a cruel smile, typical of a scientist, finally appeared on his lips.

"This farce really should end."

(End of this chapter)