[Greetings, Host, to the Karma System. The World of Pokémon awaits you.]
He blinked as the words floated across his vision, glowing faintly in the air like some sort of transparent projection.
A system interface? Hanging right in front of his face?
"…Well," Anansi muttered under his breath, his voice low, testing the reality of it, "that's new."
The day around him felt unnervingly perfect. The yellow sun spilled golden light over the rolling fields, painting everything in warm hues that looked more like a masterpiece than reality.
The air was sharp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and wildflowers, so crisp he could almost convince himself he had wandered into some untouched forest where man had yet to poison the world. Though it was early summer, a cool wind threaded through the land, balancing warmth with freshness in a way Earth had long forgotten.
But he wasn't on Earth anymore.
He was a transmigrator. Twenty years ago, Anansi Dredd had been hurled into this world—the world of Pokémon.
At first, he had imagined it would be easy. He had knowledge from the games, an understanding of meta-strategies, tier lists, and mechanics. In his mind, becoming Champion was only a matter of time, and as for women—well, he had envisioned himself surrounded by beauties, living life like some smug protagonist from one of those trash novels he used to laugh at.
Reality had proven far crueler.
Reality had taught him a lesson he had never forgotten.
He was never meant to be a hero. He was never meant to be noble.
He was meant to be evil.
Anansi Dredd stood tall now, the embodiment of that cruel truth. His bronze-toned skin was touched with a dusky darkness, his hair swept back in streaks of white, black, blue, and crimson, a rebellious bang falling across the right side of his face to sharpen the fierceness of his gaze. His expression was stoic, cold, the kind that made strangers look twice and then turn away, as if afraid of what stared back at them.
Not that many ever saw it. His face was almost always obscured by the Hollow mask he wore, hiding his true expression and amplifying his aura of menace.
He dressed as though he were marching into a story written centuries before his time: a long, silver-buttoned blue coat with three separated coattails that flared in the wind. A serpentine white pattern wrapped around the collar, its fanged head resting on his left shoulder while the tail slithered down the opposite side to the hem. Gold embroidery lined the edges, while inside the coat, a silky golden flower-blossom design shimmered faintly with each movement.
Tan fingerless gloves tightened around his hands, and a snakeskin belt, fastened with a silver buckle, bound his waist. His pants were dark green, etched faintly with a scale-like pattern, and tucked into tall brown boots, each locked with twin golden buckles at the top.
On his back, a sword rested. Its presence was both a promise and a threat.
Today marked his twentieth year—the very age most Trainers finally received their starter Pokémon. But the world was not generous. Starters weren't given freely to every wide-eyed child. They required connections, wealth, and the patience to endure a mountain of tedious exams and bureaucratic nonsense.
For the poor, the orphaned, the unwanted, the dream was often little more than that—a dream.
And Anansi Dredd was an orphan.
His childhood had been nothing worth reminiscing over. His father had vanished when he was only five, leaving with the excuse of buying milk and never returning.
His mother had lingered a while longer, but she had been broken by debt, consumed by bitterness, and by the time he turned sixteen, she too had abandoned him. She didn't just leave him—she took his younger sister with her.
He remembered that day with cold clarity: his mother's sharp voice, the slam of the door, and the hollow silence that followed.
He had been sixteen then, just old enough to realize he had never mattered, not enough to keep her here, not enough to keep his family together. She had left him with nothing.
Well he doesn't regret what he did towards his mother. Wished it lasted longer though and next he is getting the damned memory wipe. Breastfeeding is straight up traumatic experience.
That memory had burned away the last illusion of love. It had carved into him the lesson that drove him still: The world does not care for the weak.
Was that a good villain backstory? Or what too emo?
The glowing text in front of him shifted again.
[Would you like to open your Newbie Package?]
A humorless laugh slipped from his throat, echoing low in the still air. His lips curled into a faint, wolfish grin behind the mask.
"Well," he muttered, voice heavy with bitterness and anticipation, "about damn time something finally pays off."
Anansi lifted his hand, hesitating only for a heartbeat before pressing his finger against the glowing option.
[Opening Newbie Package…][Ding!]
The words pulsed with light, spreading ripples across the translucent screen. One by one, neat lines of text scrolled down before him, hovering in the air as though the very laws of reality had agreed to act like a video game menu.
[Congratulations, Host! You have received:]
– Pokémon Partner Ticket (x1): Summons a starter of randomized potential.
– Karma Points (1,000): Currency usable for system functions, upgrades, or… indulgences.
– Pokémon Cultivation Manual: Rookie 101. (Beginner guide for nurturing and advancing Pokémon beyond natural limits.)
– Inator Store. A dimensional marketplace where machines, gadgets, and weapons can be purchased—some legal, most not.
– Pokémon Interface Voucher (x1): Redeemable for a Nono-machine implant that grants enhanced abilities and injects the Super Soldier Serum.
– Premium Poké Ball Set (x1): A collection of specialized Poké Balls, fit for a trainer who demands more than mediocrity.
Anansi stared at the rewards, his lips parting in disbelief before slowly twisting into a grin. The grin stretched wider and wider until it became almost predatory, curling across his face like smoke rising from a fire.
"Well, well, well…" he murmured, his tone oozing mock-innocence, every syllable steeped in sarcasm. "Looks like the gods finally decided to stop screwing me and hand me a loaded pistol."
Behind the Hollow mask, his expression was hidden, but his eyes gleamed like twin sparks of lightning.
"Let's start with the ticket."
He tapped the first item. The system flared brilliantly, bathing him in cold blue light.
[Detecting empty Poké Ball on the Host. Initial Partner Generation Beginning…][Congratulations, Host! You have obtained your initial Pokémon: Pichu!][Injecting nanotechnology into Host's body now…]
The voice was neutral, mechanical, almost playful in its cheer.
Anansi blinked.
"…Pichu?" His voice carried flat disbelief. He raised an eyebrow under the mask. "Really? Out of all the millions of possibilities, you hand me a Pikachu knockoff with a sugar addiction? What am I supposed to do—hug my enemies into submission?"
A Poké Ball stirred at his side, the one that had materialized from the set he'd received. Instinctively, he unclipped it from his belt and held it in his hand. A strange weight pressed into his palm, heavier than it looked.
He didn't have time to admire it further.
Because that was when the second line hit him.
[Injecting nanotechnology into Host's body now.]
Anansi's pupils shrank. His breath caught.
"…Wait. What about nanotechnology?"
The words had barely left his mouth before agony ripped through his body.
"Mother—duxk!" His cry came strangled, his body convulsing as though his veins had been filled with molten lead. His knees buckled, slamming into the earth. The Poké Ball tumbled from his grip, clattering against the dirt.
It was like being eaten alive from the inside out. Tiny, invisible machines wormed their way through every nerve, every muscle fiber, drilling, cutting, reshaping him cell by cell. His vision blurred, his ears rang with static. His heart pounded like it was about to explode from his chest.
Through the haze of pain, the system's cheery voice chimed again, utterly oblivious.
[Nono-Integration: 23%… 46%… 71%...]
Anansi's nails clawed into the ground, tearing at the dirt. He tried to scream again, but the sound broke into a guttural rasp. His body jerked violently, muscles spasming, as though he were being rewired like some grotesque puppet.
And then—
The Poké Ball at his side clicked open.
A small flash of light burst forth, and a yellow creature emerged with a cheerful "Piii~chuuuu!"
The baby Pokémon blinked up at him, head tilted, cheeks sparking faintly. It watched him writhe in the dirt, convulsing in agony.
Then it clapped its tiny paws together, grinning, as though it found the whole spectacle entertaining.
Anansi's blurred gaze locked onto it. A hiss of pain escaped his teeth, but a laugh—ragged, broken—followed right after.
Of course. Of course this was his partner.
Anansi couldn't even scream anymore. His throat was raw, torn from the unholy shrieks he'd already ripped out of himself. His body convulsed violently against the cold floor as if unseen gods were puppeteering him with barbed wire.
The text kept rolling across his vision, crystalline white against the dark void of pain:
[Bio-Enhancement: Level One → Initiated]
[Injecting Nanobot Serum…]
[Warning: Subject's tolerance threshold exceeded.][Stabilizing…]
[Injecting Super Soldier Compound…]
[Vita Radiation Pulse — Engaged.]
His muscles burned like molten iron had been poured straight into his veins. His chest heaved, expanding, tearing, reforming, then expanding again as nanites swarmed through his blood. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, every beat like a cannon.
It was worse than death, but behind it—there was something glorious. Something primal.
Pichu tilted its head, blinking huge black eyes, sparks crackling nervously across his tiny yellow cheeks. From his perspective, the human was flailing like a broken doll. Twitching, spasming, muttering half-garbled curses between fits of choking breath.
But the small Pokémon's instincts told him something else. The smell of ozone was thick in the air. Power. Something ancient and dangerous, crawling awake inside this strange two-legged creature.
The system didn't let up:
[Neural Integration 34%]
[Biomotor Installation: Complete]
[HUD Implant: Online]
[Halophone Suite: Connected]
[Neuralware Nexus: Active]
Anansi's eyes flickered with light for a fraction of a second, the system UI bleeding straight into his nervous system. No longer external windows—it was carved directly into his mind.
He could feel the nanobots crawling under his skin, stringing wires through his nerves, threading his spine in steel, locking new organs into place. His bones hummed as synthetic marrow pumped out engineered blood cells. His brain tingled with electrical fire, thought-speed accelerating, senses sharpening until every grain of dust in the room became visible.
"Ffff—Ffffffuck!" he gasped, body arching like a bowstring pulled too tight. "This is—this is not what the damn brochure said—!"
The system didn't care.
[Super Soldier Compound — Full Integration Achieved.]
[Subject's physiology enhanced: Strength x10 | Endurance x10 | Reflexes x10 | Metabolism x10 | Cellular Regeneration x 10.]
[Lifespan Projected: 250+ Years.]
[Resistance: Toxins + Pathogens + Fatigue = Significantly Increased.]
He collapsed to the ground, panting, drool hanging from his lips. His skin steamed faintly, sweat evaporating off him like mist.
And then, just as suddenly, everything was… calm.
His chest rose and fell in heavy, rhythmic breaths. Every muscle in his body sang with raw energy, vibrating like an overloaded engine begging to roar. His vision sharpened, and he swore he could see the electrical currents dancing along Pichu's fur in microscopic detail.
"…Well," he croaked, staggering to his knees, "if this is what dying feels like, I highly recommend it."
The little Pichu tilted his head, ears twitching. "Piiiii…?"
The system chimed again.
[Initial Pokémon Data Detected.][Generating Status Report.]
A full screen of glowing text unfurled before Anansi's eyes:
Pokémon: Pichu
Bloodline:[12% Gorochu (Fire/Electric)] | [Raichu (Electric) 75%] | [Alolan Raichu 2% (Electric/Psychic)] | [Fyrún Gorochu 10% (Electric/Dragon)] | [Unovan Raichu 1% (Electric/Fighting)]
Gender: ♂
Height: 1'01" (0.3m)
Weight: 4.5 lbs (2.0kg)
Level: 5
Ability: Static
Hidden Ability: Lightning Rod
Nature: Brave
Potential: Platinum
Rank: Overlord
Egg Moves: Pika Papow | Reversal | Wish | Fake Out | Electric Terrain | Thunder Punch | Meteor Mash | Flying Press | Dynamic Punch | Psychic | Icicle Crash | Shock Wave | Telekinesis
TM & TR Moves: Grass Knot | Sleep Talk | Iron Tail | Electro Web | Wild Charge | Play Rough | Substitute | Nasty Plot | Surf | Fly | Strength | Snore | Reflect | Light Screen | Round | Draining Kiss | Trailblaze | Protect | Brick Break | Electro Ball | Focus Punch | Thunder | Rain Dance | Agility | Dig | Rest | Upper Hand | Focus Blast | Knock Off | Tera Blast | Eerie Impulse | Calm Mind
Inherited / Special Moves: Charm | Thundershock | Tail Whip | Thunder Wave | Mimic | Mega Punch | Mega Kick | Flash | Volt Tackle | Thunderbolt | Uproar | Headbutt | Defense Curl | Rollout | Zap Cannon | Spark | Rising Voltage | Skull Bash | Rock Smash | Pay Day | Pain Split | Detect | Double Team | Nuzzle
Anansi's jaw dropped. "…Overlord rank? The fuck?"
His gaze snapped to the little yellow mouse, who sneezed and accidentally fired a tiny spark at the floor, leaving a smoking burn mark.
"Oh. Oh-ho-ho-ho…" His grin widened, sharp and hungry. "Pichu, my boy. You and I are about to fuck this world sideways."
The Pichu blinked, tail flicking. He didn't understand the words—but he understood the tone. The human was strong. The human was his. And that was enough.
The system blinked one final line:
[Newbie Package: Initialization Complete.][Warning: Host body requires recovery. Mandatory rest recommended.]
Anansi groaned, collapsing backward, arms spread wide as the adrenaline ebbed. His whole body felt like molten iron cooling into steel.
"…Rest," he muttered, eyes fluttering closed. "Yeah… sure. Just five minutes…"
The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was Pichu climbing onto his chest, curling up, sparks crackling faintly like a heartbeat in sync.