Chapter 2Tetsuya strolled leisurely down the forest path carved out by the Pokémon League. Few people ever took this route, and the gentle breeze against his face only brightened his already good mood.
It wasn’t surprising that the road was empty. To ensure safe and smooth travel, the Pokémon League routinely issued missions to clear out wild Pokémon within two kilometers of the main routes. Over time, no Pokémon would venture near, making the roads barren of both danger and opportunity.
Trainers didn’t come to Viridian Forest to take the easy way. They came to train, to challenge themselves, to earn a living. And no real trainer would waste time on the main road.
After all, there was an old saying in the Pokémon world: “A true trainer is one who carves their own path through the wilderness.”
But none of that mattered to Tetsuya. As the golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky, he adjusted his space backpack and quickened his pace toward Viridian City.
Viridian City Pokémon Center
The familiar chime of the Pokémon Center’s healing station rang out.
Tetsuya stepped up to the counter, handing over his Trainer ID to Nurse Joy.
“Hello, Trainer Tamaki. Your Pidgeot has made a full recovery. Please take your Poké Ball.”
After verifying his identity, Nurse Joy handed the Poké Ball back with a professional smile.
Tetsuya accepted it with a polite nod and a sincere, “Thank you.”
It wasn’t just courtesy. He was genuinely grateful for the work of the Pokémon Center staff. And besides, no trainer in their right mind would ever offend the Joy family.
Most Nurse Joys were kind and forgiving, but if one ever decided you were unworthy of being a trainer… well, congratutions. You’d lose access to every Pokémon Center in the entire League. No healing, no missions, no tournament registrations, no official trades. You’d be a ghost in the system.
Of course, it had only happened a handful of times in history. But the possibility was enough to keep every trainer in check.
Tetsuya walked alone through the bustling streets, his footsteps lost in the hum of city life. No matter how lively his surroundings, the loneliness never quite faded.
Sixteen years. That’s how long he had been in this world.
In his past life, he was just an ordinary person. One day, he woke up here—this vibrant, impossible world that had once been nothing more than an animated series to him.
And he was a baby. Just another orphan left at the doorstep of a care home, like something out of a cliché novel.
But luck had been on his side. The world of Pokémon wasn’t just advanced in its technology; its welfare system was surprisingly robust. Orphans weren’t abandoned to fate. By the age of three, the League provided them with basic education. Once they mastered literacy, they could enroll in school and take the first steps toward independence.
Passing the basic knowledge test meant access to advanced education. The League even subsidized costs for talented individuals, allowing them to study up to three subjects for a mere 1,000 Pokédolrs per course—an absolute fortune to an orphaned child.
Tetsuya had been exceptional. Or perhaps, his reincarnated soul had given him an unnatural edge. In his previous life, he was no genius. But here? Here, he possessed a near-photographic memory.
Because of that, he breezed through literacy and basic knowledge at seven—three years ahead of schedule. His test scores were so outstanding that the League fully covered his tuition, a gesture that saved him 3,000 Pokédolrs and changed the course of his life.
He had chosen three fields of study: Pokémon Ecology, Pharmacology, and Berry Cultivation. Not the most gmorous subjects, but practical.
At twelve, he left the orphanage. From then on, he survived in Viridian Forest, relying on his knowledge of Pokémon and medicine to make a living.
Some of his old teachers had suggested he become a Pokémon researcher, but he knew better. Without backing, an orphan-turned-schor would struggle for years with no results, no funding, and no future. He needed something more immediate—something that paid.
That’s why he was here.
Tetsuya stopped in front of a familiar building, looking up at the bold lettering above the entrance.
Bounty Hunter Center.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped inside.
Trading Counter No. 2
The line was short. Within minutes, it was his turn.
The staff member barely gnced at him before reciting the standard procedure. “Please pce your items on the table.”
Tetsuya was already ahead of him, unloading his backpack before the sentence was even finished.
The staff member methodically examined each item. “Five Beedrill stingers, 2,000 Pokédolrs each… 10,000 total. An Arbok shed skin… not a Seviper’s, unfortunately. 50 Pokédolrs per gram… 620 grams, so 31,000 total.”
Then he paused, raising an eyebrow. “You actually have Beedrill honey? You must be either incredibly brave or incredibly lucky. 1,000 per gram… 421 grams…”
The man whistled. “That alone nets you 421,000 Pokédolrs. Altogether, your total comes to 462,000.”
Even though Tetsuya had estimated the numbers himself, hearing them aloud still made his heart race.
That was a serious profit.
Once the transaction was complete, he took his ID card, left a positive review, and exited the trading hall.
The mission board loomed ahead.
Tetsuya approached a machine adorned with the iconic red-and-white Poké Ball symbol and inserted his ID card.
A screen lit up, dispying his profile. His bounty hunter codename: Mercenary.
He spoke clearly. “Codename: Mercenary. Submitting mission. Task number 573677400.”
A red light scanned him before the machine responded.
“Identity confirmed. Codename: Mercenary. Mission number: 573677400. Please deposit the requested items.”
Tetsuya pulled a rge bundle of herbs from his bag—Stargrass, a pnt that thrived in areas densely poputed by Grass-type Pokémon. It wasn’t difficult to harvest, but gathering the required amount took time.
He pced the bundle into the designated slot. The machine’s lid sealed shut.
“Testing…”
Tetsuya exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Another mission complete. Another step forward.
And soon, he’d take the next one.
The three starter Pokémon are primarily of Water, Fire, and Grass types, varying by region. In Kanto, they are Charmander, Squirtle, and Bulbasaur—each possessing three evolutionary stages and immense potential.
The Pokémon League assigns specialists to assess their approximate potential. The starter Pokémon given to officially recognized novice trainers all have excellent genetics and mild temperaments, making them reliable partners capable of reaching the threshold of a pseudo-king level with proper training.
On the bck market, the prices of these starters don’t quite reach the astronomical levels of pseudo-legendary eggs, as not every individual has top-tier potential. Even so, a single starter egg still costs upwards of 20 million Pokédolrs—an utterly staggering amount.
For perspective, Tetsuya had only managed to earn a little over 4.5 million Pokédolrs in the past four years, including the money he had already spent.
His suburban vil had only cost 800,000 Pokédolrs, with the majority of his remaining funds going into raising his Pidgeot. Yet, despite over a year of dedicated training, his Pidgeot had only recently entered the Elite tier—partly due to his financial limitations, which had slowed its foundational development.
Tetsuya found himself lost in memory.
His first Pokémon wasn’t Pidgeot—it was a Rattata.
When he first set out into the world, all he had to his name was the 10,000 Pokédolr schorship provided by the League.
While that was enough for basic survival and securing a job, it was ughably insufficient for becoming a trainer.
Even the cheapest Pokémon egg on the bck market—one from a Caterpie—was priced at a staggering 50,000 Pokédolrs. And most Caterpie never even reached evolution, leaving their combat potential close to zero.
Capturing a wild Caterpie in a Poké Ball only cost 10,000 Pokédolrs, but these ones were entirely incapable of evolving. If they had any chance of evolution, they would have already done so due to a Bug-type’s rapid growth cycle.
Tetsuya refused to give up.
In this world, becoming a trainer was the only way to change his fate. More importantly, he had Zero, his golden finger.
So, against all reason, he ventured into Viridian Forest alone—gambling everything on the slim chance of finding an abandoned Pokémon egg.
It was a reckless pn. He barely escaped multiple times—chased by Beedrill, entangled in Caterpie silk, driven out of nesting grounds by territorial Pokémon. But then, against all odds, he found one.
An egg left behind by a Raticate.
Its potential was merely average. It would never evolve into Raticate. But it was his.
After returning to Viridian City and hatching the Rattata, Tetsuya did everything he could to care for it—even if he cked the resources to follow Zero’s ideal training pn.
Once Rattata passed its infant stage, Tetsuya registered as a bounty hunter to start earning money. He adopted the codename Mercenary, a tribute to the life he had left behind in his past world.
The income was meager, and survival was a daily struggle, but he and Rattata scraped by for two years, gradually saving money.
But fate had other pns.
During one of their missions, Tetsuya and Rattata were ambushed by a flock of Spearow.
Tetsuya survived.
Rattata didn’t.
He was devastated.
But in this world, death was final. Unless one could find Ho-Oh, there was no miracle resurrection. And what were the odds of that?
So, with no other choice, he turned to the bck market—hoping to use his knowledge and Zero’s abilities to select a Pokémon with excellent potential and start over.
The bck market was exactly what its name suggested: an underground economy operating outside League jurisdiction.
Officially, the League had strict ws forbidding the trade of Pokémon and eggs. But in reality, as long as there was profit, people would take the risk. Over time, bck markets expanded, growing into well-established networks of unspoken legality. The League didn’t support them, but it tolerated their existence—because for those at the bottom, they were often the only hope.
Tetsuya walked through the dimly lit stalls, his figure obscured by a bck cloak, blending into the crowd of simirly veiled figures.
Stopping at a vendor selling common Pokémon eggs—Caterpie, Weedle, Pidgey—he spoke in a low voice.
“How much for a Pidgey egg?”
The vendor wasn’t surprised by the slightly youthful tone. He had heard too many voices like it. Without hesitation, he replied, “250,000 Pokédolrs. Standard market price.”
Tetsuya wasn’t surprised, nor did he suspect a scam.
The bck market maintained standardized pricing for common Pokémon eggs. He had asked simply to confirm the current rates.
While Pidgey wasn’t considered a strong Pokémon, it had a three-stage evolution like the regional starters. Its final evolution, Pidgeot, was both aesthetically impressive and moderately powerful.
Had Pidgey’s overall potential not been so low, its eggs would have been worth far more. Only about one in a thousand Pidgeotto ever reached their final evolution, and even fewer attained real strength.
Casually, Tetsuya picked up a Pidgey egg, slipping it into his bag. Then, he handed over an anonymous savings card loaded with the necessary funds. The transaction was complete.
Tetsuya turned and walked away.
The vendor didn’t care. After verifying the deposit, he simply waited for the next customer.
Though he had noticed the boy carefully inspecting all the Pidgey eggs before selecting one, he thought nothing of it. These eggs came from a wild Pidgeot-led flock that he had wiped out—there was no chance any of them were particurly special.
After all, there was no technology capable of determining a Pokémon egg’s true potential. Even the most skilled appraisers could only make vague estimates based on external traits like shell integrity, feather condition, and residual energy signatures.
And this kid? Just another nobody.
He had no way of knowing that Tetsuya possessed Zero, an anomaly that didn’t belong to this world.
Tetsuya’s heartbeat pounded as he left the market, suppressing his excitement.
The moment he was safely inside his rented apartment, he ripped off his cloak, pulled out the egg, and practically shouted in his mind:
“Zero, open the Pokémon egg panel!”
A translucent blue panel materialized before his eyes.
His gaze locked onto one line.
[Potential: Champion]
His breath hitched. His hands trembled.
A Champion-level Pokémon.
He had never encountered a single wild Pokémon above Elite in the past two years—not even a Pseudo-King.
Yet now, against all odds, he had a Champion-tier Pokémon egg in his hands.
Originally, he had pnned to spend most of his savings on something like Sandshrew—a solid choice, if he could find one with Elite potential. A Sandshrew that evolved into Sandssh would be a strong companion.
But this?
This changed everything.
The very first egg he scanned with Zero turned out to be a future powerhouse.
Tetsuya had to fight the urge to scream in triumph.
He could hardly believe his own luck.
For a moment, he even wondered if Zero was malfunctioning—because this felt too good to be true.
