"Ah crap, crap, crap..." For what felt like ages, the light beams scattered off the ceiling and blinded a couple of remaining Pokemon. It would've been an impressive display had my team struggled and I actually helped, instead of cursing myself repeatedly behind a series of ice walls. A lot of my time was spent watching the fighting through glassy ice, cutting corners to the nearest curvature, and accounting for various coefficients being changed through the zero temperatures of the place (Celsius anyway, not Fahrenheit). Of course ultimately you can't use your analytical ability to try to beat your limit of spatial dimensions and time between things, so I ended up drifting towards a curb-stomp battle. The dungeon Pokemon were as viciously beaten as I had been with a certain Zubat, which seemed to have a touch of irony. Not as thrashed as me right now, but at least I wasn't that Arcanine or Goodra on that day. One was still putting up a fight between rocking Pokemon and hard walls, the other became Newton's First and Second laws.