Orre

Training was over.

The break room.

Baimu, who had turned sixteen not long ago, stripped off the clothes stuck to his sweat-soaked body, revealing a lean, muscular physique.

A colleague came in from outside. He raised a hand in greeting, picked up his toiletries, and headed into the shower room.

As water poured over his face, splashing everywhere and streaming down his body, he could not help but start thinking back.

This was Pyrite Town.

A place steeped in steampunk style, where metal pipes of varying thickness, machines driven by all kinds of gears, and rusted, gloomy inner workings were laid bare in the open.

It was called a town, but its population was no smaller than that of a city elsewhere in the region.

The endlessly extracted mineral deposits underground were also its main source of income.

Like most settlements in inland Orre, it was surrounded by boundless wastelands and deserts. As far as the eye could see, there was only yellow, gray, and black, with lively green appearing only rarely.

Technology was fairly advanced, but it was not a beautiful place.

So Baimu often regretted that, as a transmigrator, he had not been reborn in one of the main-series regions.

A place like Orre...

Never mind the quality of life. For someone like him, with no parents, no money, no power, and no influence, obtaining a Pokémon and becoming a Trainer was unimaginably difficult. The competition was terrifyingly fierce.

Traveling? Participating in tournaments?

Those things were far too distant from him.

Of course, the biggest reason was that there were no wild Pokémon to catch in Orre.

As a remote corner of the world, most Trainers here relied on imported Pokémon, and wild ones were pitifully scarce.

That was the direct reason Baimu had still failed to obtain a Pokémon of his own. Without a Pokémon, it was difficult to change his fate.

Still, there would always be bread, and there would always be Pokémon.

The Quicksand Team, a second-rate faction he had automatically joined upon waking up, was selecting official members. Outer members—grunts—could receive a Pokémon from an executive as long as they passed the assessment.

He was not particularly willing, but he had no say in the matter. Once he got in, getting back out would be difficult.

Thinking about it that way, Team Rocket, which regularly expelled troublesome members, was practically humane. In Pyrite Town, everyone was assigned work. Lower-class poor people who did not want to work were simply driven underground to mine, and if they were unlucky, they might spend the rest of their lives digging ore.

Run away?

The nearest town was at least hundreds of kilometers away, with nothing but desert in between. Finding an oasis with water was difficult, and people could easily lose their sense of direction. Not to mention that running was nowhere near as fast as those high-tech hover bikes.

The station leading out of town was even worse. Pickpockets, thugs, and swindlers were everywhere, most of them informants for the major factions. Anyone marked by a faction would be dragged off the moment they boarded a train.

People were Pyrite Town's most important resource.

Besides, even if he made it to another region, his undocumented status would still be a problem. If caught, he could easily be deported back.

Not to mention that he was illiterate and could only understand a few very basic words. There was no library in town, nor any free educational setting for grunts like him.

His only advantage right now was his young body. The Quicksand Team needed fresh blood badly, so their needs aligned perfectly.

As for where to go from there, he decided to get a Pokémon first and see what happened after.

And, while he was at it... there was this thing.

Baimu glanced at the countdown in the lower-right corner of his vision. It had been counting down ever since he woke up and fused with his memories a week ago, and it was about to reach zero.

Based on what he knew about transmigrators, this was probably the benefit most of them received.

He could not help but look forward to it.

After showering,

Baimu resisted the urge to return to his little nest and wait for the countdown to finish. Instead, he joined several familiar colleagues for a meal and drank some beer.

Listening to their drunken complaints, he felt rather calm inside.

Fitting in was important. Before he had the strength to protect himself, acting differently would only earn him hostility and exclusion. So no matter how unwilling he was, he had to come drink with this crowd.

Within the Quicksand Team, most grunts drifted through life day by day. Their pay was always gone within a week, sometimes within a day; it never lasted until the month was over.

But in this town, which was almost entirely controlled by various organizations behind the scenes, they were doing fairly well. At least they had it much easier than casual laborers at the bottom, and they had stable wages.

If they counted the "extra income" they got from shaking people down, they could barely afford a Pokémon after saving for a few months.

But raising a Pokémon was not something one could decide on a whim. Pokémon food, nutritional supplements, and other necessities were absurdly expensive, not to mention Pokémon massages, post-battle treatment, and so on...

Getting a Pokémon was only the beginning of spending money.

That was why most grunts who drifted through life could only watch other people's Pokémon with envy, then use the money in their pockets to drink themselves into oblivion.

As for Baimu, he had an instinct for saving money, yet he often instinctively resisted certain "extra income." He refused to spend money gained from shaking people down and secretly set it aside elsewhere, leaving his actual savings far from ideal.

Even though his "wages" were not exactly clean either.

All he could say was that this was the bottom line he believed he had to uphold. Even if it meant laughing at someone fifty steps away while standing a hundred steps from the danger himself, it was still better than truly taking those hundred steps.

How long could such a naïve idea last?

He was curious about that himself.

Azure Iridium Street.

As one of the districts controlled by the Quicksand Team, it contained the housing they provided for outer grunts.

From the outside, it looked no different from a pile of abandoned garbage.

A battered two-story building riddled with holes, filth everywhere, meaningless graffiti, an indescribable stench, and rusted sheets of metal with sharp edges...

No normal person would want to live here.

But there was one advantage: it was extremely safe.

Although the Quicksand Team was only a second-rate force in Pyrite Town, very few people dared cause them trouble. The fundamental reason was that they had a powerful leader and solid backing.

After returning home, Baimu quickly shut the door, leaving the strange smell outside, then lay down on his bed and waited for the countdown to end.

What would his cheat be?

He was looking forward to it, yet also faintly worried that it might not be a cheat at all, but some countdown to death or disaster.

He had been lucky enough to arrive in the Pokémon world, yet unlucky enough to receive such a poor start.

The complicated emotions left him anxious and uncertain.

Just as his thoughts began running wild, the countdown ended.

A line of text appeared out of thin air in his vision, flashing without pause.

[Trainer Life Simulator activated. Remaining attempts: 2. Countdown until next replenishment: 168:00:00]

A simulator?

Baimu froze for a moment, then saw another line of text pop up.

[Begin simulation? Yes/No]

He took a deep breath, somewhat relieved that the thing was in Chinese. He slowly selected Yes, and three more lines of text appeared before his eyes.

[Choose your birth region ▽]

[Choose your gender ▽]

[Choose your Pokémon ▽]

Baimu opened the first line, and a whole list of main-series regions immediately appeared before him, though there were no regions from the spin-offs.

He chose Kanto.

There were only two gender options as well: male and female.

He chose male.

The available Pokémon options were a little strange. There was only one: Random. The classic Kanto starters, Pikachu—which was as common as stray dogs by the roadside—and even ordinary Pokémon like Eevee were nowhere to be found.

Since he had no choice, Baimu silently selected Random and confirmed his three choices.

[Please draw your talents.]

He pressed it.

Fixed talent:

[Greenhorn (Slow Pokémon training progress)]

Selectable talents:

[Careless Hands (Rough Pokémon health management)]

[Poor Background (A burden when raising Pokémon)]

[Hot-Blooded Youth (Always maintains a positive mindset)]

[Romantic Luck (May date people of either sex)]

Baimu studied them carefully. The fixed talent could not be changed, while he could choose two of the selectable talents.

But these four...

No matter how he looked at them, only the last two seemed worth choosing, right? Only an idiot would pick the first two.

Or was there some kind of trap hidden in them?

Forget it.

He had two attempts anyway.

Baimu knew that practice was more effective than blind guessing. He selected the last two talents and confirmed his choices.

In an instant,

An illusory screen appeared before him, playing a strange pixel animation while text beneath it popped up with explanations.

It was like a game trailer.

P.S. The new book is up! Big shots, please give it some follows and votes. Just move your fingers and flip to the last page!