The glowing holographic menu refused to vanish, hanging in Bob's vision like an unskippable ad that mocked him with too many choices. He folded his arms and stared at it for a long moment, the faint blue light flickering against his face. "Alright," he muttered, the words tasting like resignation, "which one of you is gonna keep me from getting pancaked by a Snorlax in my sleep?" He half-expected silence, but instead Aqua's voice swelled inside his head with the kind of self-importance only an anime goddess could manage.
{Ohhh, not so fast, Bob!} she declared, her words practically dripping with smug delight. {This isn't about your choice. No, no, no—this is destiny! The audience has spoken, the wheel has spun, and the results are in!}
The icons pulsed, shimmered, and collapsed into one.
[PERK SELECTED: BERRY FORAGER]
Bob's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Out of everything, I get fruit?"
{Not just fruit, you ungrateful peasant,} Aqua snapped, her voice cutting through his thoughts with all the dignity of someone presenting a royal decree. {The berries. The lifeblood of survival. Twice the harvest, rare finds, recipes! Do you have any idea how many people would kill for this perk? You're basically nature's chosen grocery clerk!}
The menu shifted, updating itself with smug efficiency.
[Berry Forager Unlocked!]
— Doubled berry when foraging.
— Chance to discover rare "wild variant" berries.
— Basic Berry Mix recipes unlocked.
Bob dragged a hand down his face and muttered, "So I'm a glorified berry picker now. Wonderful. Just the epic, heroic destiny I always dreamed of."
{Don't you dare disrespect the berries,} Aqua snapped again, her voice indignant. {They heal wounds, they cure poison, they can literally keep you alive in the middle of nowhere. Without them, you'd be some sweaty idiot starving to death in a ditch. With them? You're practically a five-star chef with built-in farm-to-table service. Think of it as… rustic prestige.}
Bob groaned, shoulders sagging. "Fantastic. I'm living the fruit salad life."
The menu finally dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the forest and the faint smell of ash from the fire behind him. For the first time since the capture, he unclipped the Poké Ball from his belt. He pressed the button, and with a flash of red light, Gardevoir appeared. She stood tall, the hem of her gown-like body brushing the ground, her sapphire eyes studying him closely. Her hair spilled over her shoulders like a curtain of blue silk, catching glimmers of sunlight in strands.
She looked at him for a long, quiet moment. "...You look different," she said softly, the words almost hesitant.
Bob rubbed the back of his neck. "Just… processing some things. Nothing to worry about." He forced a faint smile, the kind that tried to look easygoing but didn't quite stick. "C'mon. Let's get moving. The sooner we find people, the sooner I can stop feeling like a rejected wilderness guide.
---
They walked until the forest thinned, sunlight pouring through the canopy in wider columns, painting the ground in shifting gold. The air smelled sharper here, less choked by damp leaves, fresher somehow. Bob stopped, turning in a slow circle, scanning the endless green. "Alright," he muttered, "four directions, no GPS, and no cell service. Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way."
He bent and picked up a long stick, rough and slightly crooked, bark peeling in places. Balancing it upright in the dirt like a priest preparing for a sacred rite, he crouched low and narrowed his eyes as though concentrating made it more official. "Behold," he announced to no one in particular, "the sacred art of Eenie-Meenie Stick Toss."
He let go.
The stick wobbled, leaned, and toppled with a hollow thunk, pointing left between two oaks. Bob clapped his hands together like a man unveiling a masterpiece. "And there's our road. Done."
{Oh, bravo,} Aqua said, her tone the dictionary definition of unimpressed. {Your survival plan is 'trust a branch.' At this point, Darwin's ghost is already packing a hand just to smack you in your sleep.}
"Hey, sticks never lie," Bob said, brushing off his hands like he'd just settled a court case. "They've been pointing cavemen to their dooms since the dawn of time. Can't argue with tradition."
Gardevoir's head tilted, her eyes following the stick's direction. Her lips parted, and the faintest smile ghosted across her features. "If… it helps you choose, then… we walk that way."
Bob grinned. "See? She gets it. Team stick all the way."
What none of them realized—Bob least of all—was that the stick of destiny had just chosen their road. And that road, winding through trees and hills, led directly toward a sleepy little town by the sea.
-----
For now, though, destiny looked a lot like leaves in his face and berries in his arms. The forest opened in slow breaths, the canopy loosening just enough to let blades of sun fall in long, bright ladders, and every other bush they passed seemed to be auditioning for the role of "overachiever." Bluehearts sagged in fat, dew-slicked clusters; Velvetbites blushed pink as gumdrops; Soursparks pricked the air with citrus sting that made his mouth water before he even touched one. Bob gathered until his forearms were stacked like a wobbly Jenga tower of fruit, elbow to wrist, and still the bushes kept volunteering more. "Okay," he puffed, shuffling forward like a man trying to carry all his groceries in one trip out of stubbornness alone, "no one mentioned the part where the perk turns me into a legged vending machine."
That was when the glow caught him: a small pulse of violet at the base of a fallen root, like a heartbeat hiding under moss. He crouched carefully, berries teetering and pinched it free with two fingers. The skin shimmered like polished amethyst; a soft warmth pressed against his fingertips as if the thing were alive in a way fruit shouldn't be. "Ooh. Shiny loot drop."
{Correction: ultra-rare,} Aqua squealed, clapping invisibly in his skull. {That, my dear Bob, is a Dreamseed! Pokémon sleep deeper, wake softer, sometimes with very interesting dreams don't ask me how I know. Treat it like a tiny, legal nap grenade.}
"Awesome," he said, eyeing his already ridiculous armful. "Where do I put it, my soul? Hey, Aqua be honest. You have, like, an inventory feature, right? You know, like other systems? Pocket dimension. Magic closet. I dump it all in and stop looking like a guy shoplifting a produce aisle?"
Silence. A hiccup of a giggle. Then laughter so violent he could almost feel her wheeze.
{Pfff—ahahaha—oh Bob, you precious idiot! No! I am not a shopping cart with delusions of grandeur. If you want to carry your loot, you're doing it the classic way: hunched over, sweaty, and muttering about life choices.}
"Worst. System. Ever," he said to the trees.
A soft chime winked across his vision like a smug wink.
{SIDE QUEST UNLOCKED — Caveman Chic}
Objective: Craft a sack to hold your ridiculous berry hoard.
Reward: +10 EXP
Failure: Look stupid.
"You have got to be kidding me."
{Nope! Weave me something pastoral, Tarzan. I expect tassels.}
Grumbling, Bob knelt in the leaf litter and started tearing long vines from the nearest tangle, working them into braids with the kind of grim determination reserved for people forced to do arts and crafts against their will. He sacrificed a strip off his hoodie hem with a pained hiss—"fallen but not forgotten"—and lashed the braids together until the shape resembled, if you squinted kindly, a sack. It sagged. It tilted. It looked like a bag designed by someone who had failed their final project in "Being a Bag." But it had straps, and it held berries, and that was enough.
{QUEST COMPLETE — Caveman Chic}
Reward: +10 EXP
{EXP: 644 / 2000 → 654 / 2000}
{Bravo!} Aqua sang, pride swelling to operatic levels. {You've invented… the grocery bag. Civilization is saved.}
"Shut up," Bob said with feeling, slinging the lopsided thing onto his shoulder. The weight settled in a way that promised future chiropractic bills, but at least his arms were free. From the path's edge, Gardevoir watched him tie the last knot, head tilted, sapphire eyes slow-blinking like a patient owl.
"…You argue with… yourself?" she asked finally, voice small, the telepathic brush of it as gentle as a finger through fog.
"Not myself," he muttered, glaring at the air. "Her."
{He loves me,} Aqua confided loudly, as if sharing a secret. {He's just in denial.}
They walked. The forest did that trick it did at this hour—everything gilded and generous, light caught in the little hairs on leaves, gnats dancing in illuminated spirals like fairy dust that smelled faintly of swamp. Birds scolded them, then lost interest. Once, something large broke cover off to the right with a crack like a snapped plank and crashed away, heavy-footed; Gardevoir's gaze tracked it without fear, then returned to the path.
By late afternoon, the "Caveman Chic" sack was already fraying around the mouth, the twined vines spreading like a yawn that promised catastrophe. Bob sighed so hard it seemed to deflate the bag further. "Any minute now this thing's going to explode and I'm going to die the dumbest kind of death. Buried by fruit."
Gardevoir slowed. Her attention snagged on a scrap of shadow under a tangle of brush beside a toppled boulder, the kind of place eyes would slide past if they weren't looking for anything. She drifted away on silent feet, disappeared into leaves that closed around her like a curtain. Bob kept up a running argument with Aqua about return policies on shoddy quest rewards and didn't notice right away that he was talking to no one.
When she reemerged, she held something behind her back. She stopped before him, drew it out with both hands, and offered it up like an altar gift: a backpack. Canvas scuffed to matte, straps worn but whole, zipper teeth missing a couple bites but not broken. A survivor, like so many things in this place.
"For… your berries," she said, and if there was a strain to the smile, it was the kind of strain someone wears when they've already decided they will carry your worry for you.
Bob lit up like a kid at a claw machine payout. "Oh, bless you. Finally—an actual bag." He unshouldered the vine sling with unceremonious glee and fed the pack mouth handfuls of Bluehearts, Velvetbites, Soursparks, the single precious Dreamseed tucked into the inner sleeve like a secret. He cinched straps, rolled his shoulders, sighed as the weight settled correctly for the first time all day. "Look at me. Upgrading from caveman to… slightly less caveman. Progress."
He didn't see how Gardevoir stepped, almost casually, between him and the toppled boulder. He didn't see the way her gaze flicked once to the shadow beyond it and then away, as if choosing not to lend that shadow the shape of a story.
But he did hear it.
Faint. From deeper in the timberline, long past where the path pretended to be a path, something made a sound. A wet tear like cloth being worried apart. Shhhkkk. A damp crunch like a knuckle between teeth. Chrrrk. The low, patient rhythm of chewing.
Bob's body reacted before his mind did; every small hair on his forearms stood at attention. He went very still. The pack's new weight felt suddenly loud on his back. "Weird forest noises," he said in a voice that tried to convince itself. "Totally normal. Yup."
Gardevoir did not look toward the sound. She stepped closer so their shoulders almost touched, the bond between them pressing warm and firm at the edge of his thoughts: forward. Reassurance without insistence, the way a hand rests lightly at the small of your back when the room behind you shouldn't be looked into.
{Yeah, Bob,} Aqua murmured, for once with all the edges knocked off her tone. {Do yourself a favor. Don't go narrating that. Just keep walking.}
He did. And if the forest swallowed the noise behind them like a mouth closing, Bob chose to believe it was the wind finding gravel to play with and not anything with breath and teeth.
By dusk they had put long, quiet miles between themselves and whatever the trees had decided to keep. The air grew damp again; the light broke apart into narrow bands; crickets took the shift from birds with commendable enthusiasm. Bob found a dry hollow between the roots of an old oak and scraped a fire circle with the heel of his boot as if he'd been born to see circles into dirt. He arranged a tripod of twigs, a little house of kindling, a thatch of brittle leaf. He rubbed sticks together with the grim zeal of a man refusing to be humiliated by physics twice in the same lifetime.
"Any second," he said through his teeth. "Any se—"
Fwump.
A neat blue flame descended from Gardevoir's outstretched palm and kissed the tinder into cheerful life. The little house accepted it at once, smoke curling up like a satisfied cat.
Bob tipped backward onto his elbows and regarded the sky as if it were personally responsible. "Beaten by a psychic cigarette lighter. Again."
{Correction: beaten by a female pokemon with an internal pilot light,} Aqua said, back to her usual sparkle. {Which, to be fair, is how most men go down in history.}
"Wow," he said, sitting up to skewer strips of meat, "I love when my life comes with commentary."
The fire put a gold on everything it touched. He crushed a Blueheart over the Rattata strip and it bled sweet water that hissed at the flame; he raked a Sourspark's bright rind against the flesh to paint it with sting; the smoke wrapped the clearing in a smell so honest it made his bones remember kitchens he hadn't had. Gardevoir sat opposite him with her knees drawn in, the long fall of her hair catching the light like silk under water. She watched his hands without staring; when he held out the first finished skewer she took it with both palms as if it was more than food.
She bit. Chewed. Something unknotted in the set of her shoulders; her eyes softened as if the fire had climbed inside them. "It's… good," she said, and those two soft syllables put a ribbon around the whole day.
"See?" Bob said to the air and the system and anything else that needed telling. "Restaurant-quality. One star. Because there's only one table."
{Please,} Aqua sniffed. {If this is a restaurant, the dress code is "lost in the woods chic" and the maître d' is a stick. Still… I'll allow it. The plating is rustic, which is pretentious for "on a stick," and the chef is very handsome in a 'might cry if you take away his fire' sort of way.}
He burned his fingers on a drip of fat and swore under his breath, which only made Aqua giggle and Gardevoir hide a smile behind her knuckles. They ate through quiet, the kind that didn't demand to be filled. When the meat was gone and their fingers were sticky with berry glaze, he mashed Blueheart and Velvetbite with a smear of Sourspark rind on a broad leaf, working it with the flat of his knife-rock until it turned into a paste that smelled like summer rain. He dabbed it along a scrape he'd collected on his forearm; the sting slid backward as if the mix had put a hand on it and said hush.
{RECIPE DISCOVERED — Soothing Mix (Blueheart + Velvetbite + Sourspark rind)}
— Apply to scrapes/cuts.
— Mild fatigue relief.
{+10 EXP — first craft}
{EXP: 654 / 2000 → 664 / 2000}
"Look at you," he told himself, half-proud and half-appalled. "Berry pharmacist."
{Don't be modest,} Aqua trilled. {You're the Serena Williams of salads. The Einstein of edible goo. Next up: cologne that smells like 'not dying.'}
The night leaned in. Above them, a torn net of branches let the stars look down properly, thousands of eyes that didn't blink much. The fire settled into a low, steady conversation with the coals; the air put a wet hand on the back of his neck that wasn't unpleasant. Gardevoir shifted nearer—not touching, never presuming—but close enough that the heat between them was a third thing separate from the firelight. Through the bond came that quiet steadying pressure again, the polite, durable promise of I am watching while you sleep. He hadn't earned it. He took it anyway.
Bob laid back on the moss bed she'd arranged with an engineer's care, hands folded under his head, backpack as a pillow, eyes full of sky. "Day one of stick-chosen destiny," he reported to the universe. "Didn't starve. Didn't get eaten. Invented a bag. Upgraded to a real bag. Cooked. Ten out of ten. Would walk again."
Gardevoir's mouth made the shape of a smile before she hid it by turning toward the embers. "Not bad," she agreed, so softly it might have been the leaves.
{Sleep tight, Berry Boy,} Aqua yawned theatrically, already fading into the soft, bass hum that meant she had decided to pretend rest was a thing she did. {Try not to dream of sticks. Or do. Whatever. I won't judge.}
The forest answered with its own slow breathing—cricket bows on violin strings, distant water speaking stone, some hunter out there writing the letter of its hunger on the dark. Bob let his eyes close. The sounds folded around him like a blanket that had belonged to the world long before he borrowed it. Somewhere to the west the sea exhaled a cool thought that the trees carried leaf to leaf. The road chosen by a fallen branch and ratified by tired feet waited for morning.
He slept.
---
Later theat night....
The fire had burned down to nothing more than a thin scatter of glowing coals, their faint orange light breathing in and out with the night air. The forest had quieted; no owls hooted, no crickets sang. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Bob lay sprawled on his back, an arm thrown lazily across his stomach, mouth hanging open. His snores rose and fell in steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the world beyond his dreams. Nothing short of an earthquake would wake him.
But Gardevoir stirred.
Her eyes snapped open, ruby light spilling across the clearing. For a moment she was still, listening. She felt it more than heard it — a pressure at the edge of her mind, dark and familiar. The same aura that had hung in the shadows behind the boulder earlier. Now it was moving. Hunting. Coming closer.
She rose without a sound, her gown brushing across moss as if it floated. Her gaze swept the treeline, narrowing, her psychic sense probing the darkness. Every tree, every shifting branch, every pulse of the night breathed into her awareness. And then—there. A heavy presence pushing through the brush, deliberate, cruel, unafraid of being seen.
The treeline split.
It stepped into the clearing like it owned it. A Persian — but not the sleek companion of pampered trainers. This one was massive, towering, an Alpha whose shoulders rippled under pale fur stretched tight across muscle. Its golden eyes gleamed like lanterns, its breath hot and steady. The black gem on its forehead pulsed faintly with each step, like a heartbeat of malice.
And clamped between its jaws was a human head.
The Alpha stopped at the edge of the firelight and let its burden fall. The head hit the dirt with a dull thump and rolled, turning end over end until it came to rest at Gardevoir's feet. The boy was young — no more than eighteen. His eyes were locked wide with terror, his lips pulled in a silent scream that would never finish. His face froze that final moment of agony forever.
Gardevoir's expression didn't change. She looked down, then back up, her eyes glowing hotter.
The Persian licked its muzzle, slow and deliberate, savoring the last taste. Then it spoke, its voice smooth, sly, cruel — the velvet drawl of Scar himself. "So it is true," it purred. "One of our kind walks beside a human."
To Bob, snoring softly behind her, it would have sounded only like: "Persian… perssian." But to her, the words cut sharp and clear.
The Alpha paced forward, circling the glow of the coals. Its tail flicked lazily, its steps deliberate, graceful as a king inspecting his court. "Why?" it asked, almost amused. "Why lower yourself to this? To follow him? And worse still…" Its nostrils flared, the gem on its brow glowing crimson. "Why mate with him? The scent clings to you. It disgusts me. Our kind has not debased itself so since the time before humans feared us. Since the age of shadows."
Its voice dropped, rich and venomous. "Have you forgotten what we endured? When humans called us demons, when their fear drove us into hiding? We swore never again to walk beside them. Never again to kneel. We have endured in silence, in darkness, away from their weakness."
The Persian's golden eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. "The last was the girl with blue hair… the one who bent the order, who bound us to their kind in that age. The first, and the last. Since her, no more. Until you."
It leaned close, its breath hot and rank, fangs flashing. "Tell me, Alpha… was it worth it? To mate with a human? To disgrace yourself for him? Tell me, did you enjoy the sound of the boy I took?" It nudged the severed head with a paw, rolling it across the dirt until its lifeless eyes seemed to plead at her. "Did you savor the thought of his screams as much as I did? Knowing, perhaps, that if humans saw me, they would hunt me down? Knowing that fear is what makes them weak… and us eternal?"
The Persian's laughter rolled low in its chest, smooth and mocking, curling like smoke around the clearing.
Gardevoir's gaze hardened, her crimson eyes burning brighter. Her voice, when it came, was not soft. It cut. Calm, sharp, each word a blade: "You enjoyed torturing him. That is no strength. That is rot. If humans saw what you did, they would not need fear to destroy you. They would hunt you down — and end you."
The Persian's smirk faltered for just a breath before returning, sharper. It chuckled, the sound smooth and cruel. "Justice," it said, rolling the word in its throat like a joke. "A pretty word. Spoken like a human's pet."
It drew back then, melting into the shadows at the treeline. The gem on its brow flared crimson once, a final pulse of defiance, before dimming. Its golden eyes lingered a moment longer, gleaming in the dark. "Remember this night, Alpha. When the past returns… justice will mean nothing. Only hunger. Only teeth."
With a ripple of leaves, it was gone.
Silence returned, broken only by Bob's steady snoring.
Gardevoir stood for a long moment, the severed head still resting at her feet. Slowly, she raised one hand. Psychic light shimmered, and the head sank into the earth, swallowed by soil and shadow until nothing remained. Not even memory.
She turned back toward the fire, but she did not sit. Her eyes glowed red in the dark, vigilant. Watching. Guarding the heavy sleeper behind her from a world that would gladly devour him whole.
And she did not close her eyes again that night.
----
Next day....
The forest greeted the dawn with its usual trick: light knifing between the branches, the air thick with dew, the smell of moss sharp and earthy. It should have been peaceful. Gentle. A soft alarm clock from nature itself.
Instead, Bob woke to hell.
{BWAAAAAH! BWAAAAAH! BWAAAAAH!}
A siren detonated in his skull, shrill as a fire alarm in a high school hallway. He lurched upright, arms flailing, hair sticking out like he'd just lost a fight with a lawnmower. "WHAT—WHAT THE—?!"
{Good mooooorning, sunshine!} Aqua's voice cut through the fading echoes like a knife dipped in glitter. {Rise and shine! You did it! Congratulations!}
Bob clutched his head, grimacing. "Did what?!"
{Survived the night!} she squealed, smug as a game show host. {Mission complete! Look at you, champion of not dying in your sleep! Do you want your medal in gold or platinum?}
He blinked, still half-asleep, then squinted as the system screen blinked into existence above the smoldering campfire.
[QUEST COMPLETE!]
Title: Survive the Night
Objective: Don't die in your sleep.
Reward: +100 EXP
[EXP: 664 / 2000 → 764 / 2000]
Bob rubbed his eyes, stared, then let out a disbelieving laugh. "Wait… you're telling me… I get experience for sleeping? For breathing in and out without dying?"
{Correction,} Aqua chimed sweetly. {You get experience for not being murdered. Which, considering your squishy little body and total lack of survival skills, is frankly impressive.}
Bob groaned, dropping back onto his bedroll. "You're insufferable."
{And you're alive,} Aqua purred. {Coincidence? I think not.}
He lay there for another minute, staring at the canopy, waiting for his brain to reboot. It was only then he noticed the clearing was empty. The fire pit had cooled, the moss bed beside him was undisturbed, and the tall, glowing figure that had become his constant shadow was nowhere in sight.
"...Gardevoir?" he muttered, sitting up.
The brush stirred.
She appeared then, gliding into view with the same unearthly grace she always carried, as though she belonged more to dreams than mornings. In each hand she held the limp body of a Pidgeotto, wings splayed awkwardly, feathers ruffled by the violence of their deaths. Her expression was calm, almost serene, as though she had merely plucked berries from a bush.
Bob stared at the birds. Then at her. Then back at the birds. "…Breakfast?"
She gave a faint nod and set them down neatly by the fire pit.
[EXP GAINED!]
Alpha Gardevoir defeated 2× Pidgeotto (Lv. 30 each).
Trainer Bond Bonus applied.
+20 EXP (10 × 2).
[EXP: 764 / 2000 → 784 / 2000]
Bob blinked at the text hanging smugly in front of his eyes. "Hold on. I get experience for her killing them?"
{That's called leadership, darling,} Aqua cooed. {Congratulations, you've discovered the wonders of outsourcing! Why struggle when you can let your tall, beautiful psychic girlfriend do all the dirty work while you reap the rewards?}
Bob rubbed his face. "This system is teaching me to be lazy. Fantastic."
{Not lazy. Efficient,} Aqua corrected, her tone syrup-sweet. {You're not cheating—you're delegating. It's very professional. You should be proud.}
He gestured at the birds. "She's literally dragging corpses back to camp while I'm drooling on moss."
{And look at you, sharing the credit! A true visionary.}
Bob groaned, shaking his head. "I hate you so much."
{Awww, no you don't,} Aqua sang.
Gardevoir had already knelt beside the fire pit, her long hair spilling forward like silk as she arranged the Pidgeotto with careful hands. She worked quietly, efficient but reverent, her eyes flicking once toward Bob as if to ask permission.
He caught the glance and sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "…Yeah. Thanks. Go ahead."
She nodded softly and began plucking feathers, each one drifting away on the morning breeze like strange, mottled snow.
Bob leaned back, watching with a mix of gratitude and guilt. His voice was low when he muttered, "So this is it, huh? The great adventure. She fights, I eat, you mock me. Rinse and repeat."
{Don't sound so glum,} Aqua said cheerfully. {At this rate, you'll be level 100 just from sitting around while she vaporizes everything in sight!}
"Comforting," Bob muttered.
The scent of fresh game soon joined the smell of dew and earth, sharp and primal. Gardevoir set the cleaned birds over the rekindled fire, her psychic touch sparking the coals to life in seconds. As the flames licked higher, Bob's stomach growled loud enough to make him wince.
Aqua, of course, didn't miss it. {Ohhh, someone's hungry! Look at you, mooching EXP and breakfast! Honestly, Bob, at this point you're less of a trainer and more of a pampered housecat.}
Bob pointed at the roasting meat. "And whose fault is that?"
{Mine,} Aqua said smugly. {And you're welcome.}
Gardevoir's lips curved just barely — the faintest ghost of a smile — as she adjusted the spit over the fire.
For a moment, Bob let himself breathe. The morning was quiet, the air clean, the fire crackling. He had food coming, EXP ticking upward, and a system that alternated between abuse and begrudging usefulness.
It wasn't much. But it was enough.
The fire had died down to a whisper, nothing left but thin trails of smoke curling into the pale dawn. Bob stretched, yawning so wide his jaw cracked, stomach still pleasantly heavy from roasted Pidgeotto. His eyes drifted lazily to the glowing numbers hovering in his vision. Then they narrowed.
"…Wait a damn second."
He jabbed a finger at the screen, like the floating text had personally insulted him. "Why the hell did I only get twenty EXP from those two birds? That's it? Twenty? When I caught her—" he gestured across the pit at Gardevoir, who was busy pulling the last stubborn feathers from a wing with serene precision, "—I leveled up instantly. Straight to level two. What gives?"
She didn't react. Of course she didn't. She couldn't hear the system, couldn't hear Aqua. Her expression was calm, sapphire eyes soft with concentration, fingers deft as feathers drifted to the ground like gray snow.
{Oh no,} Aqua groaned, dragging out the syllables. {He's only just now realizing this. Slow clap, Bob. Really. I've seen Geodudes move faster than your brain.}
"Answer the question, glitter ghost," Bob muttered.
{Fine, fine. Lemme dumb it down for you. When you caught her, she was level fifty. That's huge. The system gave you a massive EXP payout because, frankly, nobody expected you to manage it without exploding. That's why you jumped to level two instantly.}
Bob frowned. "And now?"
{Now she's the one doing the work. She's the one killing. She gets the lion's share of EXP. You? Little baby level-two trainer? You get crumbs. Pity points. Think of it as… pocket change for watching.}
Bob groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "…So she's the powerhouse, and I'm just mooching off her effort."
{Exactly!} Aqua chirped. {Finally, the hamster wheel in your brain turned once. Look at you, admitting you're the sidekick in your own adventure. Character development!}
Bob slumped back, glaring at the sky. "This system is designed to insult me."
{Correction,} Aqua purred. {It's designed to insult you accurately.}
Across from him, Gardevoir lifted her head briefly at his sighs, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before returning to her task. Her long hair caught in the breeze, glowing faintly in the early light, while her hands continued their work with quiet grace.
---
They packed soon after. Bob slung the backpack over his shoulder, cinching the straps tight. Gardevoir floated silently beside him, as elegant and unreadable as ever. The forest was quiet, the morning air sharp and damp.
Then he saw them.
Tracks.
Pressed deep into the soil just beyond their camp, gouges carved where claws had dug in. Heavy, deliberate, circling. Bob crouched low, fingers brushing over the marks. The earth was torn in places, disturbed, too large for any Pidgeotto or Raticate.
His throat tightened. "…These weren't here yesterday." He glanced up at her, expression uneasy. "Something big came through last night."
Gardevoir's shadow fell over him. Her gaze was steady, her voice quiet but firm. "Don't worry. It's gone."
He studied her for a long moment. There was something behind her tone — something she wasn't saying. But her eyes didn't waver, and her voice brooked no argument.
Finally, he exhaled, standing with a shrug. "…Alright. Not gonna argue with the psychic."
She said nothing more, and they moved on.
---
The hours stretched into miles.
Berries appeared along the way, bushes heavy with fruit. Bob picked them greedily, tossing Bluehearts into his pack, stuffing Velvetbites into his mouth, grimacing when a Sourspark made his tongue cramp.
{Another harvest,} Aqua chirped every time, her voice like an overexcited tour guide. {Look at you, berry boy, becoming nature's trash panda!}
Bob grumbled around a mouthful of Velvetbite. "At this rate I'm less a trainer and more a fruit stand."
{And a mediocre one,} Aqua teased. {Ten out of ten for effort, minus several million for style.}
He tried juggling three berries at once just to prove a point — and promptly dropped one on his boot. Gardevoir, without breaking stride, bent and scooped it up with a flick of psychic energy, placing it gently into his palm.
"…Thanks," he muttered, cheeks warm.
She only tilted her head faintly, lips softening, before continuing on.
---
It was well past midday when the forest broke. They shoved through a thicket, and Bob stumbled forward — then froze.
A road.
Packed dirt, worn flat by countless feet and wheels. Civilization.
He turned slowly, eyes wide, as if afraid it might vanish if he looked too quickly. His gaze snapped to the sign just ahead. Weathered, crooked, half-swallowed by weeds, but the letters carved into it were still legible.
[Pallet Town – 5 Miles ↑]
Bob's breath caught. His heart hammered. "…Pallet Town? As in… that Pallet Town? Kanto Pallet Town? Ash Ketchum's front yard Pallet Town?!"
{Ding ding ding!} Aqua squealed, nearly bursting his eardrums. {Mission complete, baby! Look at you, Sherlock Holmes-ing your way into a revelation!}
[QUEST COMPLETE!]
Title: Where Am I?
Objective: Discover your location.
Reward: +500 EXP
[EXP: 784 / 2000 → 1284 / 2000]
Bob staggered back, running a hand through his hair, laughing shakily. "Oh my god. I'm actually in Kanto. This is insane."
He turned to Gardevoir, grinning like a madman. "Do you even realize what this means?!"
Her eyes blinked, unamused. "…That you know the way now?"
"…Yes. Exactly that."
---
The road carried them forward. The forest thinned into rolling fields. Farmland stretched on either side — wooden fences creaking in the wind, plots of soil tilled neatly, Mareep bleating faintly in the distance. The smell of hay, the sight of smoke curling from chimneys — all of it hit Bob like a wave.
After days of wildness, here it was: civilization.
As the sun tilted toward evening, another sign appeared, freshly painted, standing tall where the road curved.
[Welcome to Pallet Town]
Bob stopped dead. His throat tightened. His eyes stung with something he didn't want to call relief. "I… I actually made it."
The system chimed like a brass band.
[QUEST COMPLETE!]
Title: First Town
Objective: Reach Pallet Town.
Reward: +800 EXP
[EXP: 1284 / 2000 → 2084 / 2000]
[LEVEL UP!] → Level 3 Reached!
A blue menu burst across his vision, so bright he had to shield his eyes. Aqua's voice rang in his skull, louder than any announcer at a sports final.
{Congratulations, Bob! You didn't die in the woods, you didn't starve, and you didn't poison yourself with mystery berries! You're still pathetic, but now you're a Level 3 pathetic! Which means… it's perk-picking time again, baby!}
---
PERK SELECTION – LEVEL 3
1. Type Synergy
Fight in harmony with your Pokémon.
Bonded Pokémon deal +10% more damage when their move matches your stance.
You gain 5% resistance to your partner's primary type.
2. Berry Forager (Rank 2)
Upgrade your foraging instincts.
Chance to find rare evolutionary berries (Leaf Stone fruit, Fire Stone pods, etc.).
Doubled harvest continues.
3. Quick Capture
A knack for catching Pokémon.
+10% capture rate at full health.
First failed capture each day doesn't consume the ball.
4. Guardian Bond
Your Pokémon instinctively protects you.
Once per day, intercepts a fatal blow.
Both trainer and Pokémon gain +15% defense when near each other.
5. Field Medic (new)
Improvised wilderness healing.
Craft Salves (gradual healing) and Poultices (temporary boosts) from berries.
Healing items are 20% more effective when used on bonded Pokémon.
6. Trainer's Eye (new)
Sharper instincts in battle.
Gain a "scan" option to see approximate level and disposition of a wild Pokémon.
Slightly higher chance of predicting attacks during the first round.
---
Bob crossed his arms, staring at the glowing menu as though it were a final exam he hadn't studied for. "Alright… which one's going to stop me from being turned into roadkill by a Snorlax?"
{That's for them to decide,} Aqua purred, smug and playful. {So, dear reader… what's it gonna be?}
"Ah...shit here we go again" Bob mumbles.