Reaching the Apex (Pokémon SI)

[PatrikWriter]

Disclaimer: Pokémon and all associated characters, locations, and names are the intellectual property of Nintendo, Game Freak, and The Pokémon Company. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made from its publication.

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After spending the weekend playing Pokémon Revolution with my girlfriend, I felt inspired to kick off a new project. A lot of current fics follow established champions and elite trainers, but I've really been missing that gritty, 'from the ground up' realistic journey. I wanted something a bit darker that follows the climb from zero to the very top – and that's exactly what this is. ​

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I woke up with a sharp intake of breath. I immediately tried to bolt out of bed, but a split second later, my head slammed into the steel structure above me, which held a lamp.

"Fuck! God damn it!" I barked, swearing like a sailor.

Besides the excruciating headache—as if someone were hammering directly into my temples—I had physically injured myself. Groaning, I felt my forehead and could already feel a lump beginning to swell.

"Just what I needed," I thought bitterly.

A moment later, however, I began to look around in confusion. It was a room that felt both foreign and familiar at the same time. On one hand, I was one hundred percent sure I had never been here in my life. On the other, my memory was feeding me images of working here regularly, cleaning up to earn some Pokédollars.

"Pokédollars? What the fuck...?" I whispered, paralyzed.

Suddenly, a chilling laugh and the blood-red eyes of a massive monster surfaced in my mind. It looked like some deformed dragon, like a Digimon from the cartoons I watched as a kid.

"Digimon? What is wrong with me?" I cursed again.

The confusion in my head grew, and the pain became unbearable. I pressed my fingers hard into my temples in a futile attempt to find relief, but to no avail. My vision began to darken. The last thing I sensed was falling back onto the hard mattress.

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Knock, knock, knock.

An annoying banging on the door woke me. I would have preferred to keep sleeping, but after the third hit, the hinges moved with a faint creak. I reluctantly opened my eyes, and in that second, it clicked.

It wasn't just that I recognized the person who entered the room from the cartoons of my childhood. It was mainly the realization that the uncrowned king of this city was standing before me. My head was a terrible mess; two sets of memories were slowly weaving together.

On one hand, I saw him as a Champion on the back of a majestic Dragonite or Charizard—always smiling in that adorable, sweet world of Pokémon. But this was no cartoon. Professor Oak wasn't animated, and he certainly wasn't smiling.

He was a tall man with brown hair already mirrored by the silver of grey strands and a beard. Instead of a kind gaze, he had a serious, almost stern expression. He was the former ruler of Kanto, and I had been slaving away for him on part-time jobs for the last five years to save up for gear for my own journey.

Here, too, my memories diverged drastically. In the stories, some guy named Ketchup overslept and still got a special Pokémon "just because." He set off into the world without a care. In reality, however, they constantly emphasized in school that this was the worst thing an inexperienced person could do.

Even the best-bred starter is lethally dangerous to a trainer unless they break it in. Sure, grass types tend to be milder and non-confrontational, but a Charmander is a born warrior—many a rookie has perished under its attack on the very first day. After receiving a Pokémon, a person had to train with the creature and achieve harmony for at least a week before even leaving the city gates for the wilderness.

The reason was simple: a Pokémon had to obey every word, or the trainer ended up in the morgue. And the leadership of the Kanto region, like any other state, wanted successful and powerful trainers, not corpses in the grass.

The statistics were relentless: nearly half of the trainers who set out on a journey died before completing it. The goal of the journey was different for everyone. For some, it was enough to earn four badges, which allowed them to get hired by a company requiring capable protectors for a good salary.

A trainer's career was royally paid but extremely dangerous. You head out to sea? A pack of water Pokémon ambushes you and, in the best-case scenario, drowns you. In the worst, they feed you alive to their young. Traveling through a forest? One moment of inattention, one poisonous quill, and without an antidote, both you and your Pokémon die in convulsions while carnivorous predators already sharpen their teeth for you. You aren't even safe in the air—a Fearow can shoot you down before you even notice it.

A soft cough snapped me out of my grim thoughts.

"Professor," I greeted him curtly and immediately blurted out a question: "What happened?"

Oak studied me thoughtfully, curiosity showing in his stern face. "I assume that the gift... or the curse of your lineage has just awakened within you," he spoke after a while.

I immediately gasped for air. I was an orphan; I had grown up in an orphanage in Pallet Town since I was a child. I always thought my parents were some drug addicts who, with the last shred of goodness in their hearts, preferred to leave me at the home rather than sell me into slavery on the black market.

"What? Lineage? What lineage? What are you talking about?"

Lineages in the Pokémon world were noble and ruled cities and society as a whole. Kanto was controlled by eight powerful families, most of whom also had the battle gyms under their thumb. These families recruited trainers themselves as mercenaries who carried out their orders—from business protection and road guarding to personal security. They basically did everything.

For example, Brock Harrison from Pewter City or Lance Blackthorn from Blackthorn City were well-known. Some families, or clans in the case of ninjas, were incredibly powerful. It was therefore impossible for me to be a member of any of them. If that were the case, I wouldn't have had to scrub Oak's dirty rooms just to earn money for gear and food!

I saw his shoulders grow slightly heavy and his lips tighten into a saddened grimace. If I hadn't known him, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. But I did know him, and my second set of memories gave me enough experience with people and reading non-verbal communication. While I was an introvert, my other self was a pure extrovert and quite old.

"You are fifteen, so I will tell you at least what I can," he began in a low, serious voice. "Your family is powerful, but due to wars and cowardly assassinations, you are the last two members left." He paused for a moment but immediately continued. "The current leader of the lineage decided to hide you in safety, right here in my town. Nothing happens here without me knowing, and so, with a little help, I have watched over you for all these years."

"What lineage is it, and what gift or curse has afflicted me?" I asked with undisguised fear in my voice.

"Unfortunately, I cannot reveal that to you. I had to promise to keep their identity anonymous for your own safety. The leader of your lineage will find you himself only when you are powerful enough to protect yourself," he cleared his throat and continued: "I don't know exactly what it is. I only know that an old friend of mine passed out at the same age you are now. For a while after that, he acted strangely and sometimes called it a gift or a curse. He never confided in me with more detail; it was a family secret."

I knew I shouldn't confide my thoughts or the memories of my other self. It would be useless, and it was actually my greatest advantage. I was getting lost in my thoughts. I thought I was just ordinary Patrik from Pallet Town, but in the end, just before my journey, I find out that I have a family out there and we are in danger. And the only thing stopping me from reaching them is that I have to be more powerful?

I was extremely determined to choose Charmander immediately and grow stronger. Charizard will burn all danger to ash, and I will finally be powerful enough to be with my family. While the other Patrik had his family and experienced them in good times and bad, I had felt my whole life that something was missing. Every time I walked through town and saw families with children getting ice cream or at the cinema...

"Professor, when can I choose my Charmander? As soon as possible?" I asked, full of determination and fire.

Oak forced a smile, and I began to suspect something was wrong. "You cannot choose Charmander, Patrik," he paused for a moment and continued: "Already..."

I immediately cut him off: "What do you mean? I studied and slaved away at school for years to get the best points and grades! It's not fair at all! Am I going to get some ordinary Rattata now?!" I shouted.

The standard procedure was that in Kanto schools, a certain number of the top students could choose special starters—Charmander, Squirtle, or Bulbasaur. Others had the chance to choose from completely common captured Pokémon, which were from the wild and thus harder to tame. Furthermore, these Pokémon tended to be weak, with low potential, and you never knew what their personality would be like.

Special starters immediately increased the chance of success, which is why so many beginners tried to reach the highest level possible. Personally, I finished third out of everyone and should have had the right of choice. And now this asshole tells me it was all for nothing?!

With a nervous smile, he wrung his hands before finally putting them into the pockets of his white coat. "You studied for years so that you would know what you are doing, Patrik. That will serve you well on your journey. Unfortunately, you cannot choose a Pokémon. Already when I took charge of you, a Pokémon had been chosen for you by your lineage." With a fluid motion, he pulled out an ordinary Pokéball and handed it to me.

"Since it's from my lineage, it can't be a weak Pokémon," I thought with interest.

"Wait, since my birth?!" I blurted out after a moment. "That Pokémon must be quite old by now."

He shook his head in disagreement and answered sternly: "Think, you didn't study for nothing!" he immediately reprimanded me.

It took me a moment before it clicked. Most Pokémon lived as long as humans, except for bugs, which lived shorter lives, and ghosts, who lived substantially longer—until they decided to leave this world themselves.

He saw that I understood, so he gestured for me to release the Pokémon. I didn't wait and immediately pressed the Pokéball twice. With the first press, it enlarged, and with the next, a red beam shot out, in which a Pokémon appeared.

"Gastly..." I whispered.

A large black levitating ball appeared with two prominent eyes and a wide grin. A deep purple gas floated around it. Poison.

"This Gastly is above average; it's about a third larger than common individuals. Also, if you notice the shade of the gas, it is ready to evolve into Haunter. Expect it to happen any moment now," he paused for a while and then added with a smile: "He has waited for you for a long time, Patrik."

"Gastly! Gastly!" the ball of gas cried out and nodded with a wide smile in a sign of agreement.

Honestly, I wanted a Charmander. My other self preferred it too, although he didn't know Pokémon very well—except for a few childhood scenes. His impressions and memories were completely off. Especially those where Pokémon were just cute little animals. I mean, they are literally called Pocket MONSTERS. Every other minute, there are reports on the news about some city having to fend off an attack from wild packs. Death and destruction. Only Pallet had a great position; waterfalls at the back prevented the arrival of powerful water types, and the front had a forest with weaker Pokémon that were completely deterred by Oak's legendary Pokémon.

After a moment, I nodded with a smile and said thanks. Gastly looked extremely friendly and obedient. Ghosts were relatively human-like, even though they fed on dreams and emotions, so if they listened, they were great helpers. Also, a Haunter could hide in my shadow, which meant I would be safe with him.

Before I knew it, Oak vanished from the room like steam over a pot. I was left there alone with Gastly.

"Gastly, are you ready for some hard training?" I asked him.

"Gastly!" he nodded enthusiastically.

"Will you obey my every word?"

His smile froze for a second, but then, with slightly less enthusiasm, he nodded again.

"And if you don't like something, will you let me know somehow?"

"Gastly!" he agreed immediately.

I nodded satisfactorily. I had a week to find out his strengths and weaknesses. By the time I get ready for the journey, buy everything necessary, my career as a trainer will begin. I didn't intend to underestimate anything.

I immediately began to get up. I recalled Gastly back into the Pokéball, and when I felt I had everything, I set out on the way to the orphanage. I needed to sort out my thoughts because I still felt like an unnatural, weird mix of two personalities.

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While according to the cartoon, Pallet Town only had four houses, in reality, it was a smaller city with approximately fifteen thousand inhabitants. So it took me a good half hour to get from Oak's lab to the orphanage. While in his world, orphanages were old and dilapidated, in ours, they were maintained, renovated, and generously funded. A high percentage of orphans tried their luck as trainers. Most children in the homes were actually the offspring of trainers. And how did that happen?

Quite simply. Bloody regional wars and a multitude of dangerous Pokémon took a heavy toll on the population. Trainers were needed. Since many people died in Pokémon attacks, everyone wanted to enjoy life to the fullest. Morals were quite loose, at least regarding nudity and sexuality. If you could die tomorrow, wouldn't you enjoy an evening full of passion? Moreover, contraception didn't exist in this world... It only took a few trainers dying, and the orphanages were immediately full.

It was relatively free here, at least compared to those other memories. While it seemed natural to me that we shared showers with girls and knew everything about sex, in his world, it was quite conservative. In our world, a person became an adult immediately upon turning fifteen, and some people already had their own children at that age.

As soon as I arrived at my room, I stripped and, with only a towel, headed to the shower. I needed to get myself together and sort out my thoughts. As soon as I entered, I noticed I wasn't alone. A completely naked woman stood in front of the mirrors. She was looking at herself, lifting her breasts with her slender palms and casting seductive glances at the mirror.

"Lily," I greeted matter-of-factly.

She immediately flinched in surprise, but as soon as she saw me, she smiled coquettishly: "Patrik! Sweetie, how are you?"

If you're wondering who Lily is, honestly—she's my childhood crush. I've been in love with her since I was a kid and imagined we'd be together. While I clung to her and hoped she'd return my feelings, she secretly mocked me. She made jokes about my shyness while heartlessly sleeping with anyone and everyone. She was gorgeous: cold blue eyes, full red lips, a flat stomach, and wide hips. Added to that were large round breasts and curly blonde hair. She was simply perfect, like an angel—except for that personality.

Only yesterday, I would have thought she was glad to see me, but with the rush of new memories, I noticed how she looked at me with disdain and mockery. It was a gift; thanks to it, a shy introvert had become a bold and experienced extrovert. With a mocking smile, I replied:

"Great, Lily. Are you going to keep whoring around, or has someone already fucked you today?"

She looked at me in shock. She was used to my red cheeks and eyes fixed on the ground. Under other circumstances, I would have shakily stuttered some answer, but now? While she stood there in shock, I walked over to the transparent shower stall. I pulled off my towel and, just as God made me, I started showering in front of her.

After a while, I only heard her slam the door loudly. The bathroom was finally mine alone.

"A beautiful whore, but the whole town has probably had her already," I said to myself out loud.

While my original self was still a virgin, my second set of memories already had some experience. So if an opportunity arises, why not? Of course, training comes first!

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Author's note:
What can you expect from this story? Pokémon catching, gritty battles, and world-building with a unique system—no IVs like in the games. This is a more realistic take on the Pokémon world, featuring adult themes, the criminal underworld of Team Rocket, and the influence of money and power. I hope you
enjoy the ride!

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[PatrikWriter]

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The next day, immediately after waking up and grabbing a quick breakfast from the simple buffet tables, I headed toward the water. I needed time to think. While the orphanage stood at the far north of the city, the sea lay to the south, serving as its natural protection. It appeared tiered, as if someone had created it artificially: it consisted of a calm surface, a smaller waterfall through which no danger could penetrate, another quiet section, another drop, and finally a smaller sea where water-type Pokémon swam undisturbed.

A park and recreation zone stretched along the coast. I saw a few people there with fishing rods; every once in a while, a fisherman managed to pull out a Magikarp or a Feebas. It was a decent, albeit slow, way to make a living. Fish Pokémon were a staple in every household, and there was constant demand for them from restaurants as well.

However, I focused mainly on myself and the changes taking place within me. While the old Patrik had been completely incompetent regarding Pokémon, he occasionally had interesting know-how in his head, even if most of it was total nonsense. Who had ever heard of a Pokémon evolving through trading? It was utter bullshit—if that were true, everyone would probably have an Alakazam, Machamp, or Gengar right away. I found the claim about evolving Magikarp into Gyarados using a waterfall much more intriguing. Unlike him, I had spent the last ten years in dedicated study.

Where we radically differed, however, was in personality. I was a shy introvert; he was a confident, older extrovert. Where I didn't even know how to throw a punch, he fought in Muay Thai and trained in MMA. Where I was too ashamed to look my childhood crush in the eye, he considered her just another slut, good for nothing more than a one-time distraction.

Furthermore, there were significant biological differences between our worlds. While in his world a large percentage of people were obese, slow, and weak, everyone here was relatively athletic, even if they didn't actively exercise. The vast majority had great physiques. Thanks to a low body fat percentage, people were more attractive, though some hadn't exactly won the genetic lottery in the face department.

We also matured faster—at fifteen, I already looked like a grown, athletic man. I didn't run, I didn't train, and yet I was in incredibly good shape. From his memories, I dug up something about Aura. Did every human in this world possess an Aura that biologically enhanced them? It made sense. People didn't get sick; they didn't know common flus, and diseases like cancer or STDs didn't exist here. At the same time, we were more resilient to the elements. As a species, we likely had to adapt so that Pokémon wouldn't wipe us out.

It was also interesting how advanced his world was in terms of weaponry. Electronics and household appliances were similar, but weapons were missing. We were still living, so to speak, in a medieval era—daggers, swords, spears, and bows. Why? There existed a portable refrigerator that minimized into a pocket at the press of a button and stayed charged for months. So how is it possible that there are no pistols, assault rifles, or nukes here? I immediately began to conspire.

What if the world had once been destroyed by nukes and animals mutated into Pokémon? What if weapon development was forcibly halted to prevent history from repeating itself? What if the top leadership knows about it, but general society does not?

At the same time, there was a difference in the understanding of battles. Here, it was a sport, a honing of power, but also everything else. It wasn't customary for a Pokémon to die in a battle. In the wild? Frequently. In an official match? Rarely. Trainers of a similar level fought like gentlemen; it didn't happen that someone would pull out a Gyarados against a Rattata.

People in my world were also Kinder, more helpful, and smiled more than in his Europe. Life had taught them that if they wanted to survive, they had to stick together. Historically, small groups clustered together until they formed cities, just to withstand the wilderness.

That didn't mean my world was an idyll, though. There was an extreme number of criminals capable of robbing, raping, killing, or selling you into slavery on the black market. In Kanto and Johto, it wasn't common, but that was exactly why export existed. Drugs and prostitution? They were just as common in this world, although they weren't created synthetically. Grass-type Pokémon could create some interesting blends.

Anyone could own a Pokémon, but they had to be able to control it. One mistake with a disobedient Pokémon in the city—if it injured someone or hurt them without cause—and your life could be over. In this, the laws were relentless.

However, it wasn't like everyone had a Pokémon, and certainly not a strong one. Many species were natural predators; to catch them, a human had to defeat them first. Subsequently, if the trainer didn't want it, they could sell it for Poké-dollars. Dragon Pokémon? Millions. Rattata? A few hundred.

Actually, that was why a career as a trainer was extremely lucrative. If you were strong, you could catch whatever you wanted and monetize it. You could get hired as a bodyguard for an influential company, defend cruise ships or roads as a Ranger, or serve in the police. You could protect fields and farms that raised Tauros for meat and Miltank for milk. The entire society stood on the shoulders of powerful trainers. Thanks to them, people in cities lived relatively peacefully. Trainers were respected and admired. Only the mortality rate was unbelievable.

A trainer's family received tax benefits from the League for the first year. The trainer himself received free access to League-owned hospitals and hotels for the same period. Food and lodging for free. However, such a career required iron determination.

Originally, as a timid introvert, I just wanted to prove to everyone that I had what it takes. Now, I know that was a weak goal. It was enough to be myself and people would show respect—it was enough to be unafraid and look everyone proudly in the eye. Now? With this gift, I gained a new goal: Reach the Apex, or die trying.

I was determined.

I pressed the Pokéball twice, and in a flash of red light, Gastly appeared beside me.

"Gastly!" With a wide, chilling smile, he fixed his gaze on me.

"Hey, Gastly. Ready for training?"

"Gastly!"

Pokémon in this world didn't have clearly defined moves. Every strike was essentially just an energy infusion. Tackle? Adding Normal energy to one's body and slamming into the opponent. Flamethrower? Fire energy. Gastly's well-known "Lick"? Ghost energy concentrated on the tongue.

What am I trying to say? That controlling a Pokémon's internal energy is the most important thing. Theoretically, a Pokémon can use energy for any attack—it just has to be able to create, shape, direct, and release it. A Flamethrower can be thin, direct, and extremely hot, or so wide that it engulfs everything within a four-meter radius.

Of course, the energy output varied. Actually, I could call it auric output. Gastly, as a combination of Ghost and Poison types, possessed two auric energies, and given his biology, he could learn to work with others as well.

"Gastly, do you know how to work with your energy?" I asked curiously. Usually, young individuals didn't know how. My Gastly, however, was older than me.

He nodded in agreement.

"Stick out your tongue and concentrate Ghost energy into it."

He obeyed immediately. He stuck out his red tongue, which slowly began to change color to black until the energy started escaping from it like gas. I watched him thoughtfully for a moment, then concluded: "It took you too long. In a battle, that would be fatal. To start with, we need to improve your speed."

"Gastly!" he confirmed determinedly.

"Dissolve the energy and try again," I commanded.

He followed my word instantly. I watched him for a while. Before, it would have felt normal to just stand around and do nothing. Now? I felt like a lazy prick, and I didn't like it. I immediately started warming up my joints. He wasn't going to be the only one working hard.

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We worked hard until the afternoon hours. Gastly was likely a genius; he had increased the speed of his energy infusion into his tongue by at least half. It was already relatively battle-ready. While he trained, I managed to do shadow boxing and sets of push-ups, squats, and sit-ups based on memories from the other world.

The biology of this world was absolutely insane. Without any problems and without prior training, I was able to do over 300 repetitions of each exercise with only small breaks! Running was a bit worse—my lungs couldn't keep up, as cardio wasn't my strong suit.

I'll have to change that. In the wild, stamina will be key. While a Ghost Pokémon in the normal sense of the word cannot die, I can. In the worst-case scenario, Gastly will have to buy me time while I make a run for it.

I had less than a week left before we set out. I needed to use that time to get physically fit and teach Gastly techniques that would save us trouble. Gastly as a starter isn't exactly the easiest choice. He isn't elemental, so every Normal-type we encounter will be riskier for me. Luckily, at the beginning of the journey from Pallet Town, the Pokémon are weaker. But the risks are still there.

Pidgey, Starly, Spearow, Rattata, and their evolutions. While Pidgey is calm, Spearow is aggressive and attacks in flocks. If I were to encounter a hungry Fearow, it's quite likely I'd end up as lunch.

I went through my shopping list in my head. In addition to the classic survival kit, I need a dagger or a sword. Preferably both. Plus food, antidotes, and a raincoat. Since I was out of money, I'd only buy the basics and I'd have to hunt for the rest—so I immediately added a fishing rod to the list. Then it occurred to me: according to Oak's words, I come from a powerful house. Don't I have some resources from them? I'll have to ask about that.

We rested for a moment. Gastly didn't consume normal food, so he didn't need anything for now, but me? My stomach was growling loudly, and I had completely missed lunch at the home. I decided to buy fried Magikarp fingers with fries. It was my favorite treat, even if a bit unhealthy—though according to his memories, this food was significantly healthier and more nutritious than what they usually ate. It wasn't even expensive; one portion cost me 5 Poké-dollars. Thanks to part-time jobs and the orphan's allowance, I had a little over $5,000 in my account, but that would definitely go toward quality gear and other necessities. I also needed better clothes. I'd be miserable in the wilderness in ordinary sweatpants and a hoodie.

While I ate, Gastly rested in the sun with me. He levitated a meter away from me with a satisfied smile. If I didn't know he was a Pokémon specifically from my family, I'd doubt if it wasn't some kind of trick. No Pokémon, not even a Grass-type, would obey like this on the first day or be so devoted.

Ghosts were usually malicious, stubborn, and mischievous; murder was no problem for them. Every now and then, there was a story where a Ghost kidnapped a person and fed on them using hypnosis until the poor soul died. My Gastly, however, behaved like a little angel.

"Gastly?" I began.

He immediately nodded to show he was listening.

"Have you been waiting for me since I was born?"

"Gastly!" he blurted out in agreement.

"Did my family order you to?"

The Pokémon simply nodded again.

"Who are you loyal to — me or my family?" I asked, deciding to clarify. "If it's me, nod. If it's the family, shake your head."

He nodded immediately.

"Do you have a goal in life?"

I knew that every Pokémon was different. Some wanted to be the strongest, others desired to travel, and still others just wanted to eat in comfort. Some lived only for battle. Everyone had their own motives—even a Dragonite could, in the end, be extremely lazy and relatively weak.

Gastly nodded and put on a wide, chilling smile. I had to ask step by step.

"Do you want to be the strongest?" A nod.

It didn't look like that was all, so I continued: "Do you want to eat a lot?" An enthusiastic nod and an even wider smile followed.

"Do you want to fight?" A nod.

"Do you want to travel?" No reaction. Neither disagreement nor a nod. Apparently, he didn't care as long as the other conditions were met.

"Did I forget something?" I asked at the end.

Gastly nodded again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, shame he can't talk," I thought bitterly. He was definitely more intelligent than other Pokémon—if I don't count Psychic types. Still, he could only answer me with a simple yes or no.

Experienced trainers said that over time they began to understand their Pokémon as naturally as they did humans. So I hoped that in our case, it would come sooner. Otherwise, I'll seriously have to get some letter boards and teach him how to write and read.

I decided to guess.

"Do you want a Lady Gastly? Do you want to haunt people and Pokémon? Do you want to protect me? Do you want to evolve into Gengar? Do you want to be recognized?"

In order followed: a shake of the head, an enthusiastic nod, another nod, another nod, and no reaction to the last question. Recognition was clearly irrelevant to him as long as he could scare someone to death and become a Gengar in the process. I hoped that was all for now and decided to continue training.

"Great, Gastly! We have plenty to do in the future. You'll be the strongest Gengar in the world. Continue with the tongue infusion training."

The truth was, however, that evolving into Gengar would be a problem. There were truly few Gengars in the world. Haunters? There were relatively many of those, but even if someone managed to evolve a Haunter, every trainer kept the secret of that evolution strictly to themselves. It wasn't publicly known at all, and one thing was certain—the transformation definitely didn't happen by simply reaching a certain level, and certainly not through some nonsensical trade. There had to be something more to it. Something more complex... and maybe more dangerous.

---

Toward evening, after the hard training, we headed back to the orphanage, exhausted. Gastly was released from his Pokéball and slowly floated behind my back. Every now and then, he peeked out curiously to see what was happening in front of us.

I was just a short distance from the home when a girl ran out of a nearby house in front of me. Lindsay.

"Patrik!" she shouted, waving at me and running in my direction.

She was a short, attractive blonde with blue eyes and her hair in a bun. The old Patrik would have labeled her the "girl next door." Exactly the type of woman who would interest him for a serious relationship—pleasant, kind, loving, and polite. Until recently, I thought she was just being friendly, but after merging memories, it was immediately clear to me that she liked me.

"Hey, Lindsay. How are you?" I greeted her with a smile as soon as she stepped closer.

"Great, Patrik, and..." in the middle of the sentence, she cried out in fear and turned pale.

From behind my shoulder, Gastly had flown out at her with a chilling smirk and his tongue sticking out. Lindsay immediately started screaming and backing away.

"Gastly!" I called out after a moment with a smirk, finally stopping my laughter.

"Gastly! Gastly!" the satisfied Pokémon chimed in. I felt like he was practically bragging to me about how much he had scared her.

"Are you okay, Lindsay? I probably should have warned you. Sorry," I told her. The girl stood three meters away with her hand on her heart and death in her eyes.

"I-I am," she stammered, but immediately continued more boldly: "You jerk! You really should have warned me, I almost had a heart attack!" After a moment, she calmed down a bit and added: "Where did you get a Gastly? I thought your starter was going to be Charmander. You talked about it for so long!"

Lindsay was probably the only one I could talk to normally. Around others, I used to be far too shy, which made me a weirdo, but with her, I always discussed everything. Lindsay knew very well that I was in love with Lily, whom she honestly detested—whether for her questionable morals or out of jealousy.

While Lindsay was pleasant and fiery, Lily represented cold beauty. Morally, they were like two completely different worlds. The question remained: how was it possible that Lindsay was in love with me? According to my new memories, my previous behavior could be described as that of a total pussy.

"Professor Oak gave me Gastly yesterday, and I think it was a great choice. Gastly is amazing," I replied with a smile. Even though a piece of disappointment still gnawed at me that I didn't have Charmander, Gastly was truly determined and listened to my every word. I felt that I could rely on him one hundred percent.

"Gastly!" the Pokémon cried out with a pleased expression.

Lindsay watched us both in silence for a while, then nodded with a supportive smile.

"He looks strong!"

"Gastly!" the Pokémon confirmed her words and nodded importantly.

I saw her thinking for a moment until she finally spoke up with quiet hope: "Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

With an apology in my eyes, I had to refuse.

"Sorry, Lindsay. We've been training since morning, and now I need a shower and a real meal. I also need to get some sleep; the next few days before my journey will be really demanding."

She lowered her gaze in disappointment and whispered almost inaudibly: "Will you at least say goodbye to me before you leave?"

I stepped toward her and did something I would never have had the courage to do before. I gently lifted her chin with my fingers, leaned in, and pressed a short kiss onto her cheek.

"Before I leave, we'll definitely go for a walk, Lindsay," I promised.

She stood there completely stunned. I didn't wait for her reaction; I turned and headed home. Gastly, with a satisfied, almost appreciative smile, followed me into the shadows of the street.

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Author's note:

We are diving deeper into the story of my Pokémon world. As you've seen, Pokémon energy can be manipulated in various ways—it all comes down to skill and mastery.

Based on these opening chapters, you can expect plenty of combat, tension, and high-stakes action. But life in this world isn't just about training; there will also be romance and explicit adult content. Furthermore, Team Rocket certainly won't be portrayed as innocent or bumbling villains—expect them to be a real, dangerous threat.

Are you curious to find out what Patrik's second Pokémon will be? Stay tuned!

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Upcoming Chapters – Already written:
3. Silver Liquid, Dark Shadows
4. Gear and Ghostly Gestures
5. A Liver Hook and a Farewell
6. Lessons of the Wild
7. Steelix Finish and Dirty Dealers