Three months passed in a flash, and the calendar now read 1.1.150—the birthday of Master Oak himself.

  In Pallet Town, the streets were alive with color and sound. Streamers stretched between rooftops, glowing with League symbols. Vendors lined the sidewalks, handing out sweets and souvenirs. Street performers in Professor cosplay shouted trivia questions at wide-eyed kids. Everywhere you looked, it was celebration.

  Except in the classroom.

  Ben sat in his usual spot, fingers tapping the desk, trying not to think about the smell of festival food wafting through the window.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Mr. Boon said cheerfully as he stepped into the room.

  “Good morning, Mr. Boon!” John said loudly, before anyone else had the chance.

  Since the incident three months ago, something had changed in John.

  After Tana’s electrical meltdown and the meeting with the principal, no one knew exactly what was said behind closed doors—but when John came out, he wasn’t the same. Emberly had become model-perfect, almost eerily well-behaved. She didn’t try to burn a single thing. And John… John doubled down on his League loyalty. It wasn’t subtle.

  He and Nathan had become polar opposites—two extremes constantly circling each other like a storm waiting to break. It was like they made each other worse by trying to outdo each other at every turn. Their rivalry, once friendly, had grown sharp. Bitter.

  And the tension?

  It had gotten to the point where just sitting in the same room with them felt like standing between two live wires.

  “You know what we’re covering today,” Mr. Boon said, his tone sharper than usual. “You’ll be learning about the League as it was 130 years ago, before the reform. You’ll learn why the reform was necessary. You’ll have a lot of questions—and you should. But don’t ask while I’m speaking. I’ll pause at specific points for questions. I’ll only answer them during those moments. Understood?”

  The class nodded in unison.

  Something else had changed since the Discharge incident.

  Mr. Boon had become stricter—colder, even. The usual warmth in his tone had thinned into something more clipped, more distant. There were rumors. Whispers in the hallways. That the principal had blamed him for not stepping in sooner with John. That Boon had seen it coming and did nothing. That he could have stopped the meltdown.

  And now? He taught like a man under pressure. Like someone who couldn’t afford another mistake.

  “More than a thousand years ago,” Mr. Boon began, pacing the front of the class, “the League didn’t exist. Each region stood on its own—isolated, suspicious, and locked in endless cycles of war.”

  He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

  “Then came a man with a vision. The League’s founder: Mr. Goodshow. With a handful of loyal followers, he established two structures that still define our world today—the League, and the government.”

  Several students already had their hands raised.

  “I know,” Boon said without looking. “You have questions. You should. But wait. Most will be answered, and I’ll tell you when to ask.”

  He turned back toward the board, voice steady but colder than usual.

  “At first, it was a golden age. The League introduced the Circuit system, created the Champion position, and placed Pokémon matters—tutors, Gyms, training regulation—under its authority.”

  He stopped, then tapped the board lightly with one finger.

  “But Goodshow made one mistake. A critical one.”

  He looked out at the class.

  “He believed non-trainers should be allowed to interfere in Pokémon professions.”

  “Let me explain,” Mr. Boon said, his voice tighter now. “The government? It was something they called a democracy. The people chose their own leaders.”

  He made a face like the word itself left a bad taste.

  “Did they qualify? Did they understand Pokémon, training, circuits, anything? No. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was they told the people what they wanted to hear.”

  He pointed at the board sharply.

  “You know how easy it is to manipulate people who are afraid of Pokémon? Very. A few public incidents, a few tragedies—and suddenly, you’ve got maniacs in charge of Pokémon distribution. That’s exactly what happened.”

  He shook his head, disgusted.

  “We went from a society that revered powerful trainers... to one where fear ruled. The League grew weak. Stagnation spread like rot.”

  He turned away for a beat, then back to the class, eyes glinting.

  “And for reasons that still baffle historians, Kanto and Johto decided to merge—to form Indigo. Can you imagine the stupidity of that?”

  No one dared speak.

  “Two massive regions, different traditions, different systems—and they crammed them together. Worse? They didn’t even appoint a Champion. Said their combined Elite Four were strong enough. No Champion. Just… hubris. Delusion.”

  ““Now, you can ask questions,” Mr. Boon said sharply. “But keep this in mind—if you think your question is going to be answered later, don’t bother. I don’t repeat myself.”

  John raised his hand. “What was the government’s job before they decided to hijack the League?”

  Boon actually looked pleased—for a moment. “Good question. The government was a management body. They handled the economy, healthcare, education, public works—everything that concerned humans and non-trainers. It was a division of power, so no one body could become too strong. And at first? It worked.”

  He scanned the room. “Anyone else?”

  Silence.

  “Right. Let’s continue.”

  “It got so bad, the government started meddling in the Circuit. In the Elite Four. In everything related to Pokémon.”

  His tone darkened.

  “Why? Because trainers are still humans, and therefore, according to them, under their jurisdiction.”

  He threw his hands up.

  “Gyms became a joke. Imagine walking into a Gym and facing a single Geodude. One. Geodude. That’s it. And they had the nerve to call it a challenge.”

  Some students stifled laughter. Boon didn’t.

  “The routes became death traps. Everyone flying or teleporting without proper licenses. You know how many deaths that caused? Flying unsupervised. And worse—Teleportation without discipline. You know how much control a Psychic-type needs to pull that off? You know how taxing it is on the human body?”

  He let the weight of it hang in the air.

  “This madness needed to end. And 150 years ago, salvation was born.”

  He stepped toward the board and tapped once.

  “Right here, in Pallet Town.”

  The class held its breath.

  “Master Oak came into the world.”

  “At the age of ten, he began his journey. Within a year, he won the Conference and claimed the Champion’s position.”

  Mr. Boon paused, then scoffed.

  “That alone should tell you how laughable the system had become. One year. That’s all it took.”

  “But he never accepted the mantle. Why? Because there was no challenge. The title of Champion had become hollow—just a name, not a test. And he knew it.”

  “At eleven, he pivoted. Began the path of a professor. Yes—eleven. His chosen field? The study of human-Pokémon bonds. That specific area of research didn’t even exist before him. It became the spark that lit a revolution.”

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  The class was silent. Even John didn’t dare interrupt.

  “But that wasn’t all. At fifteen, he started a small startup—OakTech. With one invention: the world’s first Pokédex.”

  Boon tapped the board again.

  “That was the moment everything changed. He turned a world of torn notebooks and half-remembered lore into a digital encyclopedia. At fifteen, he didn’t just revolutionize Pokémon science—he rebuilt the foundation it stood on.”

  “Questions?”

  Amy raised her hand. “How is it even possible to become a professor at age eleven? I’m fifteen and I had to submit a full research outline just to be considered for a lab assistant role. And that was considered impressive.”

  Mr. Boon nodded. “Don’t think for a moment that it isn’t impressive, Amy. It is. But Master Oak was... an anomaly. His mind worked differently. On every level.”

  A few more students glanced at each other, hesitating.

  Then Reed raised his hand.

  Mr. Boon looked at him—just looked—and Reed slowly lowered it again. No words were exchanged, but the message was clear. Boon knew what he wanted to ask. And he wasn’t going to let him. Not today. Not on Oak’s day. There was no room for the Church in this particular myth.

  Then Nathan spoke. “I don’t disagree that the Gyms became weak. But... is it really so bad that trainers didn’t hold all the power? A Gym Leader’s job isn’t just strength—it’s community leadership too.”

  Another murmur went through the class. Mr. Boon didn’t flinch.

  “That’s a fair question,” he said, voice measured. “But back then? Gym Leaders weren’t what they are today. They didn’t manage cities—that was the mayor’s job, also elected. The Gym Leader’s responsibility was route control and town defense. And they failed. Utterly.”

  He took a step forward, gaze tightening.

  “That’s why Johto is weak. They want to bring that broken system back. They call it tradition. I call it decay.”

  Nathan sank into his seat, visibly chewing on that. Meanwhile, John seized the opening.

  “Told you,” he said, loud enough for half the room to hear. “Always defending Johto. Maybe go live there if you love it so much.”

  Mr. Boon said nothing.

  Ben watched it all unfold from his seat—and something twisted in his stomach. Three months ago, Boon would have stepped in. Three months ago, he’d been a teacher. Not... whatever this was.

  Now? He just stood there and let John jab at Nathan like it was part of the curriculum.

  Ben frowned. He didn’t like this version of Boon. He wanted the old one back. The one who cared. This one?

  This one scared him a little.

  “Alright—enough questions.”

  Mr. Boon’s voice was sharper now. He moved to the board, markers in hand, pacing like the words were barely keeping up with his thoughts.

  “After Master Oak invented the Pokédex, he faced a problem—data. The device was revolutionary, sure, but it was incomplete. He only had access to the ecosystems of Kanto and Johto. He needed more.”

  He tapped the board.

  “So he sent people. Trainers. To Sinnoh. To Hoenn. In exchange? He gave them a Pokédex for free. Poké Balls. Training guides. A stable. Everything a new trainer could dream of.”

  A few students whispered.

  “This was called sponsorship. And yes—it created division. Not everyone got the same support. But Oak knew that until he could build something better, he’d have to work within the system.”

  He paused. His tone dropped lower.

  “For five years, the Pokédex became a cultural phenomenon. Everyone wanted one. The data was pouring in. But the government? They didn’t like it. They passed laws. Regulated Pokédex use. Made it harder to get a Pokémon at all.”

  “And Oak?” Boon smirked. “He vanished. Not a word. Not a sighting. Until suddenly—he came back. And when he did… he changed everything.”

  He turned around, eyes scanning the room.

  “Years of studying bonds between humans and Pokémon led him to a discovery. A theory. A breakthrough. He called it the peak of the bond. What does it mean?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer.

  “It means power. Real power. The kind that reshaped the world. That was the first time anyone had ever used the term ‘Master-Level Trainer.’ And Oak was the first.”

  Some students leaned forward unconsciously.

  “With that power, he took back the League. And he began the Reformation.”

  “The government?” Boon chuckled, bitter and amused. “They thought they could control someone like that. Pathetic.”

  “In just five years—by the age of twenty—Master Oak dismantled the old systems. He reestablished the Champion position. He made Pokémon accessible again. Every child—everyone—would receive a starter at age ten. That was before the sixteen-year standard.”

  “He didn’t stop there. He travelled the eastern continet. United the four Eastern Leagues. Formed what we now call the Eastern league. And then?”

  He raised his voice.

  “He crossed the ocean. There was no contact between the continents back then—none. But Oak didn’t need permission. He had knowledge. He had strength. He crossed into the West and did it again.”

  “Under his leadership, the nine great Leagues became connected for the first time in history.”

  “the government lost power quickly , the nine leagues together stated to spwan master level trainers, mosttainers lost their edge not every one with more masters the league stronger , the more strong they beame the more the government became a thing of the past.”

  “15 years after is discovery , the government their lies exposed, the league completely , master oak completed the re formation”

  Major cities now had a minot gym and a major gyn, deputy mayor and mayor, big towns had minor gym as the towns head.”

  “stagnation? A thing of the past minor gyms can challenge major gyms, major gyms can challenge elite for and so on”

  “The system became a constnt push forward , that way trainer will nevel lose their edge again”

  “Sponsorship? Abolished instead the credit points taken place, all are equal in the eyes of CP, you can’t buy them you can only gain them, gyms, information, missions”

  “journey at age of ten , crazy he taught that’s a good idea , no age of 16 a age when humans are mature”

  “The league now i master oak dictated work his life poured to make the league better .”

  Now you can ask any thing

  John, as usual, was the first to raise his hand.

  With a nod from Mr. Boon, he asked,

  “Why didn’t the old League ban the government from interfering? Why let it get that bad?”

  The teacher nodded slowly.

  “You don’t fully understand how things were. The League's stagnation was already rotting it from within, long before the government started chipping away at its authority. But instead of fixing anything, the government doubled down. They didn’t want to help—they wanted to replace the League. And worst of all, they had trainers in their ranks who helped them do it.”

  John fell into deep thought. He didn’t fully grasp what Mr. Boon meant—but he did understand one thing:

  The League had to endure. The laws had to be upheld.

  He couldn’t let anyone drag them back into that mess again.

  Almost unconsciously, his eyes flicked toward Nathan.

  Next was Ben. His voice was quieter, but clear.

  “If the League is stronger than ever, why do so many trainers still go off-route? Shouldn’t the official system be enough?”

  Mr. Boon didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Ben with something between approval and caution.

  “Good thinking. But your answer’s inside your question.”

  He stepped forward.

  “Trainers are stronger than ever. The system is stronger, too. But that means the official routes aren’t enough for everyone anymore. Those who want to reach the top… they take risks. They go beyond what’s offered.

  Because nature doesn’t care about balance. Nature is brutal. And survival of the fittest still rules outside League-approved paths.”

  Ben nodded slowly. He had his answer—and it was exactly what he expected to hear.

  And that’s why it felt off.

  In the past, Mr. Boon had answered tough questions with thought and care. Now? His responses felt polished. Scripted.

  And the truly difficult questions? He didn’t just sidestep them—he avoided them entirely.

  A few more questions were asked—minor ones. Nothing that dug too deep.

  Then it was Amy’s turn.

  She raised her hand.

  “How did the new system make sure science advanced—and not just battle power?”

  Mr. Boon’s face lit up, if only a little.

  “Wonderful question.”

  He paced slowly in front of the class.

  “The position of regional professor existed before the reform—but it had no real weight. That changed. Under the new system, the regional professor became the head of scientific advancement in each League.”

  “Each region now has its own exams, its own development tests, and its own funding models. Every meaningful discovery grants you a government grant. Science became one of the cornerstones of our society. Trainers may hold fame—but professors move us forward.”

  He paused, then added with a nod,

  “The best example of this is Paldea. In that region, the true seat of power belongs to the regional professor. The people there are more scientifically inclined. Your Teraphones? They come from Paldea.”

  Amy’s eyes lit up.

  It was good to hear that science still held power—that it wasn’t all about brute strength.

  Maybe, just maybe, with Daisy Oak backing her… her journey could begin there.

  Sure, it was across the sea in the Western Continent. But now? It didn’t feel impossible.

  Then came Nathan’s question.

  He hesitated. He was clearly stressed. His last question hadn’t landed well, but this one felt important.

  He needed to know.

  “You said the League fixed everything… but what about the people who never wanted to be trainers? Who didn’t want a Pokémon? What kind of system do they live in now?”

  Mr. Boon’s face tensed. For a moment, just a moment, there was a flicker of disappointment—or maybe irritation.

  But he answered anyway.

  “The government was dismantled, yes. But it restructured into the Civil Act. There are still plenty of roles in society—engineers, cooks, factory workers, and the list goes on.”

  “But this idea—that someone wouldn’t want a Pokémon? That’s exactly the kind of thinking that let the old system rot from the inside. There’s a suitable Pokémon for everyone. People just didn’t want to believe that.”

  “And that’s why there were ‘trainers’ within the old government ranks. People who claimed to love Pokémon, but pushed those lies.”

  There was silence. Then—John laughed. Loudly. Mocking.

  He didn’t need to say anything else.

  Ben’s stomach twisted.

  Where was the compassion?

  Nathan was still under psychological care. Less than a year ago, he’d been a mess. Back then, Mr. Boon had shown patience—concern. Now? He’d just humiliated him. In front of everyone.

  Ben looked over.

  Nathan’s face was red. His eyes shimmered. His body stiff, like he was trying not to run out of the classroom.

  But Mr. Boon’s gaze held him in place like a chain.

  Ben clenched his fists.

  His friend was being bullied.

  By their teacher.

  And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  After all the questions had been asked, only one student remained.

  Reed.

  He thought about raising his hand. He really did. But then he caught Mr. Boon’s gaze.

  It wasn’t a glare. Not quite.

  But it was enough.

  A silent command.

  Keep quiet. Don’t bring up your Church nonsense. Not today.

  Reed swallowed the question. The anger stayed.

  He hated this.

  The Church wasn’t some tiny sect hiding in shadows—it was global. As old and sprawling as the League itself. But here? In this school? It was treated like a taboo.

  Off-limits. Untouchable. Unspoken.

  They didn’t argue. They didn’t debate.

  They just shut it down.

  Reed saw it clearly now.

  This place had changed.

  It had started as a home. A sanctuary for orphans. A place that once promised acceptance and growth.

  Now it was a training ground.

  A pipeline.

  A machine built to churn out loyal League agents, one sanitized student at a time.

  Even Mr. Boon—once warm, patient—had turned into something else.

  Colder. Sharper.

  Less a teacher, more a handler.

  The League. The organization that “accepted everyone.”

  Except when it didn’t.

  Reed looked across the room.

  John was taking notes with manic enthusiasm. His uniform pristine, posture perfect. A poster child of reform.

  Reed had watched it happen. The shift. Ever since his meeting with the Enforcer and the Principal, John had started sliding further into the League’s ideology.

  Faster. Deeper. Louder.

  He wasn’t the same.

  Only Ben, Amy, and Nathan still felt like themselves. Like people, not programs.

  But even they were being pulled in different directions.

  Reed couldn’t wait to leave.

  He needed out.

  Away from the stares. The silence. The pressure.

  Away from the indoctrination disguised as education.

  Away from the League’s shadow.

  Before it swallowed him too.