"Damn that bastard... How dare he toss me into some random-ass wilderness with no Pokémon?" Kaiser snarled, gripping his head as he stared into the dense greenery—brambles, broken branches, and chirps of Rattata and Spearow echoing in the humid air.
[Dude. Maybe show a little respect for the god who literally granted your childhood fantasy?]
The voice rang directly inside his mind—familiar, smug, and divine. Kaiser didn't flinch.
"Cheat code?" he asked flatly, ignoring the plea for respect like a bug on his boot.
[Tch. So much for divine gratitude. Anyway, yeah. You've got a cheat. The Impregnation System.]
That instantly flipped his irritation. The word alone wiped his scowl into a slow, sharp grin.
[Be grateful. Now I'm grabbing popcorn. Go give me a damn show.]
[Hell, use that wicked little brain of yours... maybe you'll join me on godhood's front row.]
"Cheh. Now you're speaking my language," Kaiser muttered as he summoned the system mentally.
[Ding! Impregnation System Activated.]
[Objective: Impregnate canon females—through manipulation or force. Claim divine rewards for each conquest.]
He raised a brow. "So manipulation or non-con gets me equal gains?"
[Correct. The method's yours. The result is mine.]
"Cool. What about Pokémon though?" he asked, casually, like ordering coffee. "We talkin' rewards for, say... pounding a Lopunny? Gardevoir?"
[Confirmed. Equal rewards for Poképhilia-based non-consensual conquest.]
[PS: Avoid Rapidash and Ponyta unless you want your dick turned into barbecue.]
"Didn't need the warning," he scoffed. "I know my tier list."
He looked down at his current attire—basic, clean, and wrong. "Now gimme something ragged. I can't pass for a victim looking like a fresh drop-out from Trainer School."
[Request denied. No customization privileges.]
"Tch. Cheap-ass system..." he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Then tell your popcorn god to stop watching and give me the damn gear. I'm getting into Pallet Town one way or another."
[Requesting override access from creator…]
[…]
[Ding! Request approved.]
[You've received: 'Ragged Young Trainer Disguise.']
A bundle of clothing materialized in front of him, stained and crumpled like it had been trampled by every damn Pokémon in Johto.
"Lovely. The things I do for survival," he muttered, peeling off his current gear without hesitation. Modesty wasn't in his dictionary—he considered his body a divine sculpture. If the mortals couldn't handle his form, that was their weakness, not his.
His physique was carved. A lean, aesthetic blend of power and agility—Greek god tier, minus the robes.
Once dressed, he tugged the gloves tight and adjusted the high collar on the dirty black-and-white jacket. Loose black pants with Pokéball clip straps and beat-up sneakers finished the look. He looked like a trainer who had seen hell and barely crawled out.
"Where exactly did he drop me?" Kaiser asked.
[Location: Pallet Forest, outer edge.]
He smirked. "God-tier placement. Everything bends to serve me—fate, nature, probability."
[Ding! Human lifeform approaching—estimated 80 meters.]
[Identified: Professor Samuel Oak.]
Kaiser's grin sharpened. "Perfect…"
Without hesitation, he slammed his fist into his own cheek. Then his gut. His jaw. A few more hits. Anywhere visible. Fast, bruising, calculated.
After a minute, his entire look shifted—blackened eye, shaky legs, labored breathing, tear-tracked cheeks. The ragged outfit looked lived in now.
---
A soft humming echoed through the trees.
Kaiser collapsed against a tree, his voice strained. "Ah… help…"
The humming halted.
"Who's there?" came an old, authoritative voice.
Kaiser whimpered. "H-help me…"
Leaves rustled as Professor Oak emerged through the thicket, his eyes widening at the boy's condition. "Dear Arceus… Kid, are you alright?!"
Kaiser glanced up with trembling lips. "I… I came to Kanto to join the Indigo League… with my R-Ralts… but—hic—"
Tears flowed on command. His voice cracked like a violin string snapping.
Oak knelt beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. You're safe now. What happened to your partner?"
"A-a group of men… black uniforms… they said they'd kill me if I didn't give up my Ralts. I tried to fight… b-but—hic—" He broke down mid-sentence.
Oak's expression darkened with immediate empathy. "Team Rocket…"
He looked around. The disturbed foliage. Trampled brush. Broken branches. The scene matched the story—whether it was staged or not.
"Where's your ID? I'll contact the League, we'll report it immediately."
"They took everything… my bag… my ID… my money… I-I have nothing—hic!"
Oak's eyes softened. "You poor thing…"
Kaiser looked about fourteen in his ragged state. Just young enough to trigger full adult guilt. Just old enough to sell a trainer disguise.
"Sigh… How about this," Oak said. "You come to my lab. Get cleaned up. Stay the night. No need to worry about anything else right now."
'Hook, line, and damn near worship,' Kaiser thought. A flicker of smirk threatened his lips—but vanished before Oak saw it.
He allowed himself to be guided out of the woods, limping slightly.
The hunt had finally begun.
***
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