Nassau was taking training more seriously these days. He had to—his sisters were still vastly more powerful than him, and every sparring session reminded him of it. All three of Jack's Pokémon were also incorporating Type-Gem fragments into their regimens.
According to the system, these fragments tripled development rates, but the tradeoff was obvious: they were expensive.
Gem fragments retained the same fundamental functionality as whole Type-Gems. High potential or not, you have to be careful on what item you give to Pokémon.
Now thanks to Jack's actions Gems were tightly regulated, with strict grading systems much like Held Items. Both followed a hierarchy of quality: Inferior, Weak, Ordinary, Exceptional, and Superior.
The grade dictated the range of stat boosts and combat effectiveness. Naturally, high-potential Pokémon placed higher demands. Any Pokémon ranked A or above required Class A items of Exceptional grade or higher to feel an effect at all. Anything less might as well be scrap metal.
Thanks to the Cross Guild, Jack had little trouble accessing Gems again—though this time his focus was entirely on strengthening his team rather than building habitats.
Demand for the precious resources was immense, especially since Pokémon League had already accelerated construction projects using Gems and Terra Shards.
It was bound to happen. The Pokémon world is vastly and people are not stupid.
Still, the results spoke for themselves. Calypso, Mnemosyne, and Nassau had made significant progress in the past two months. The girls were now Level 12, while Nassau lagged slightly at Level 9.
Jack hated it, but realistic Pokémon training sucked balls.
Calypso, for one, had transformed into the fastest fish Jack had ever seen. Despite her walrus-sized frame and a ton of bulk weighing her down, she could clock speeds of 68 miles per hour (109 kph). That matched the velocity of a Sailfish, and it was terrifying to watch her cut the water like a living missile.
Mnemosyne, meanwhile, had grown into the opposite role. Smaller than her sister at just half a ton, she had refined her Water Gun into a rapid-fire weapon. Streams hammered out in quick succession, her aim sharpening each day until she could peg a pebble-sized target at distance.
She also refusing to learn physical move of lately.
Nassau's requirements, however, were different. Jack drilled him tirelessly with Dig, Surf, Muddy Water, Whirlpool, and Waterfall. The gator's long-range capabilities would always be shaky, but versatility was the goal. His digging speed, for example, was absurd. He could carve a trench in seconds, dirt flying like a geyser with every swipe—proof enough that Dig was within reach. Sparring against other trainers' Pokémon honed his instincts and made his battle sense sharper by the day.
The gator was also growing fast. Now standing a whole 4.7 inches taller than before, he had already exceeded the species' usual size chart. Strangely, the added mass hadn't slowed him. If anything, Nassau had grown faster.
Once again, the Pokémon world spit in the face of physics.
Today's session followed the usual pattern: Nassau squaring off against a rental Electric-type from the Battle Club.
Zap! Pew! Zing!
The training yard lit with electricity.
A series of colossal Thunderbolts erupted from the rental Electivire's twin horns, cutting the field in half with their sheer ferocity. Twelve-foot javelins of lightning speared through the air, each traveling at a blistering eighteen feet per second, humming with ozone and static.
This drill was about blocking speed. The veteran Electivire knew how to scale his power output, channeling bolts that looked devastating but wouldn't outright kill Nassau thanks to the gulf in levels. Still, the pressure was suffocating.
"Use Metal Claw to draw the lightin' and Iron Tail on the ground—cut and deflect the strikes!" Jack barked.
Surprisingly, Nassau had taken to both moves with uncanny ease, the motions instinctual to his claws and tail. But under normal circumstances, there was no universe where a first-stage Water-type Starter could deflect the charge of a fully evolved powerhouse. The reality was brutal: if Electivire fought at full power, Nassau would be unconscious in an instant.
Even with Electivire restraining himself by ninety-seven percent and reducing bolt size, the exercise still knock him on his ass.
Nassau was now utterly convinced his Trainer was insane. The little Totodile gritted his fangs as he forced Steel-type energy to flow into both his claws and his tail. Even focusing on a single Steel move was grueling at his level—trying to maintain two simultaneously was borderline suicidal. That kind of strain was something only C-class and above Pokémon usually managed.
"DILE!" Nassau roared, voice breaking as the latest Thunderbolt slammed into the shimmering claws, then bled into the iron sheen of his tail. The electricity coursed through his tiny body before grounding into the dirt with a violent crack. His frame shuddered, muscles twitching, smoke curling from his blue hide.
Pain flared through every nerve, but he stayed upright.
Months of swallowing resistance berries, sticking to a regimented diet, and enduring two straight weeks of Thunderbolt drills had left Nassau with a pain threshold high enough to make a masochist jealous. Don't get it twisted—his defenses were still his weakest stat. But this Totodile wasn't about to roll over.
The bolts hurt like hell, but Electivire had deliberately reduced their intensity. The charge wasn't dense enough, the ions too low to kill. That didn't stop each strike from feeling like a furnace pressed against his bones, but it made them just weak enough for the improvised Metal Claw–Iron Tail combination to catch and bleed away the current. Dodgy science, sure—but hell, it worked. Just like the anime.
"Nice work, mate. You actually stayed conscious," Jack said, eyeing his half-charred Starter with a crooked grin. The Totodile's body was burnt and trembling, but his eyes still blazed defiance.
The anime hadn't lied—redirecting elemental attacks was possible. But Jack knew they'd need to bulk up Nassau's Special Defense if they wanted this strategy to be viable in real battles. Too much strain, and the gator would fry before he ever got the chance to counter.
Still, he had one advantage no other trainer seemed to be exploiting. Hours of watching matches, scouring forums, and combing through records had made it clear: no one in this world fought like the trainers in the anime. Which meant Jack had an angle, a piece of meta the rest of this reality hadn't adapted to yet.
Rina might hate his guts—hell, she never passed up an opportunity to roast him—but a teacher was still a teacher. She'd been the one to hammer Totodile's form until he could pull off Metal Claw and Iron Tail with enough precision to at least stand against these tests.
And now, with smoke still rising off his scorched scales, Nassau glared at Electivire, tail gleaming like tempered iron. He wasn't down. Not yet.
[XxX]
By the next morning, Nassau's burns were cooled, his scales glistening with new strength. Jack dragged him back down to the lake's edge, the whirlpool spinning like a hungry maw in the middle, the waterfall thundering against the basin like drums of war. The air was thick with mist, and every few moments, some massive shadow moved beneath the surface, sending waves crashing against the shore.
Jack balanced on the dock like it was the deck of a ship in a storm, arms spread, swaying as though drunk on the world. "Now, lad, steel's done. Time we set ye to wrestlin' with the water itself. Whirlpool an' Waterfall. Hear that roar? That's yer enemy and yer teacher both."
Nassau growled low, crouching by the bank. The whirlpool's current tugged at the surface, daring him to step in. He dipped a claw into the churning water and hissed at the force dragging him forward.
"Don't shy away, mate. A proper beast o' the sea don't just swim in water—he commands it!" Jack shouted over the roar. He jabbed a finger toward the spiral current. "Start small—circle yer tail, call the current to ye. Pull it till it obeys, not drags ye down."
The Totodile lunged in. His little body vanished into the froth, tail thrashing. At first the whirlpool tossed him like driftwood, but then Nassau snarled, eyes flashing, and spun his whole body in sync with the pull.
The water rippled differently—responding. A miniature spiral split from the main whirlpool, clinging to Nassau's tail as he whipped around, his own current forming.
Jack's grin widened, a spark of madness in his eyes. "Aye! That's it! Bend the sea like a bloody sword!"
Minutes passed, and Nassau crawled back to shore, gasping, dripping, but triumphant. A small vortex lingered where he'd been, swirling obediently before collapsing into foam.
"Now for the waterfall," Jack said, already pacing toward the roaring cascade. The spray drenched him, but he didn't seem to notice. "This ain't about pullin'. This is about defiance. Climb what no fish should climb."
Nassau stared up at the towering column of crashing water, eyes wide. His claws dug into the wet stone at the base.
"Don't think, just move! Ye ain't no guppy. Yer teeth are made for rivers, not puddles. Bite the stream, lad, climb it like it insulted yer mother!"
Nassau leapt forward. The waterfall slammed him flat, the sheer weight of it knocking him back into the basin with a splash that sent spray over Jack. The Totodile surfaced, snarling, shook himself, then lunged again. And again. Each time, he made it an inch higher before the torrent battered him down.
Jack leaned on a post, bottle in hand, smiling like a lunatic captain. "That's it, boy. Break yer bones on it if ye must, but one day ye'll rise with the flood, not drown in it. Whirlpool for control, Waterfall for defiance—master both, an' ye'll be a king of rivers."
Nassau dragged himself back to the rock, chest heaving, but his eyes locked on the waterfall.
The roar filled his ears, daring him. And he leapt again.