Pokemon Retired Champion

When I was five years old, I was kidnapped by the human traffickers. Later on, I was abandoned at Dreadvault Isle's prison meant for serious offenders located in the infamous no-man's land of Cloudguard Continent. In order to avoid dying from starvation, I clung to Edgar Blythe, who was a serial killer with the highest bounty known on the Internet, and called him "Grandpa Eddie". Then, I moved to grip Franklin Graves, a former boxing champion, by his diamond-crusted belt just to beg for scraps. Finally, I entangled myself around a top-tier assassin's leg while yelling at the top of my lungs, "As long as you don't let me starve to death, I'll make sure to take care of you once you grow old!" All the international mercenaries, arms dealers, and professional assassins were stunned by my declaration. In the end, they gave me some leftovers from their own plates. That was how I was raised in prison. Since my grandpas have enemies all over the globe, the first thing I do after returning to the country is act like a cowardly impoverished student. When I'm a college sophomore, Leonard Hargrove, a rich scion from a conglomerate, has accused me of stealing his laptop. He even beats me up relentlessly on the campus field and breaks three of my ribs by stomping on my chest. To make things worse, he forces me to swallow blood-drenched soil. I'm in so much pain that I've practically gone nuts and bitten off half of Leonard's ear as a result. Jordan Chappel, the dean of the college, kicks me to the floor when I meet him later on in his office. "Do you really think you're in the right for stealing from someone else, you broke bastard? All he did was hit you a few times! It's not like you'll die from those attacks! "You'd better tell your guardians to come here as soon as possible! I want to see them groveling to me and apologize on your behalf!" After spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva, I turn to stare Jordan dead in the eye. "Are you sure you really want my guardians to show up?"

The Bloodfang Pack’s Alpha has declared a grand warrior match. A test of strength, cunning, and dominance. The werewolf who emerges victorious will not only earn the title of champion but will also claim his most beautiful daughter as a mate. But everyone knows this is just a formality. No matter who wins, I should be the one to marry Harken Shadowfang. He and I grew up together, our wolves intertwined by years of shared hunts and whispered promises beneath the full moon. He has always been my destined mate—or so I thought. The match begins, and Harken deliberately loses. I watch as he kneels in the dirt, breathing heavily, his sharp golden eyes flicking toward me with something cruel, something mocking. A chill runs down my spine. Why? Why would he do this? The victor stands tall, his fur still bristling from the heat of battle. Alaric Jaggedmane. A warrior through and through, his aura is heavy with the weight of a true Alpha—something Harken never had. Without hesitation, I step forward, lifting the warrior’s wreath. "Congratulations," I say, my voice steady. "You're now my husband." A furious snarl rips through the air. Harken storms toward me like a rabid beast, his fangs bared, his hands trembling as he snatches the wreath from my grasp. "Why didn't you pick me?" he demands, his voice bordering on madness. I meet his gaze without fear. Because in my past life, I did. I chose him. I thought he loved me. I thought we would be happy. But I was a fool. After my father’s death, Harken locked me away, keeping me weak with silver-laced drugs while he took his true mate, Ravyn Evermoon, to public events at his side. I was nothing but a tool. A stepping stone for his ambitions. A title to secure his rule. It was only then that I learned of his betrayal— of the three children he had already fathered with her. And so now, with this second chance granted to me by the Moon Goddess herself, I do not waver. I will not be Harken’s pawn again.

Pendant huit ans, j'ai été le secret d'Alpha Adrian. Il a fallu attendre le centième anniversaire de son grand-père pour qu'il accepte enfin de ramener notre fils, Gauthier, et moi dans la meute. Il m'avait juré que les Anciens avaient finalement donné leur bénédiction. Notre fils, surexcité, sautait sur le lit en brandissant sa médaille de champion, celle qu'il avait gagnée lors du tournoi junior de combat. Il s'était battu bec et ongles, juste pour rendre son père fier. Mais à peine avions-nous posé le pied sur le domaine de Boisnoir… qu'on l'a vu. Adrian, dans les bras d'une louve blonde, l'embrassait à pleine bouche. Avec un sourire aux lèvres, il nous l'a présentée : « Ma compagne, Sophia. » Gauthier s'est précipité vers lui, furieux, tendant le doigt vers la marque de morsure bien visible sur mon cou. « C'est la marque que Papa a faite à Maman ! Vous la voyez tous, non ?! » Le Chef des Anciens s'est avancé. Il a à peine jeté un regard, puis a lâché un ricanement glacial : « Une astuce de magie de sang, rien de plus. Ça peut imiter une odeur, mais jamais la connexion d'âme d'un vrai lien d'âmes-sœurs. N'importe quel loup expérimenté s'en rend compte au premier coup d'œil. » Je me suis tournée vers Adrian, paralysée, incapable de bouger. Lui, il m'a ignorée… et a caressé doucement la vraie marque sur le cou de Sophia, qui brillait d'un éclat argenté sous la lumière de la lune. « La meute de Boisnoir n'acceptera jamais une sang-mêlé incapable de se transformer, » a-t-il dit froidement. « La seule digne de se tenir à mes côtés, c'est Sophia. » Je l'ai regardé… et un rire amer m'a échappé. Penser que j'avais réprimé mon propre sang Royal Alpha… pour un homme pareil.