Ethan let out a low cry, and the Poké Ball in his hand began to tremble again. Whatever was inside had clearly heard him — the Ball slipped free of his grip and popped open with a click.
With a thump, a black puppy, taller than Ethan's knee, sprang out.
Seeing the world for the first time, the Houndour threw back its head, about to howl.
Ethan's hands shot out. He pressed gently but firmly on the excited pup and covered its mouth."Houndour, wait — don't bark."
The little hound stilled. As soon as Ethan finished, it nodded vigorously.
Relieved, Ethan let his hand fall from its muzzle. "Now… how am I supposed to explain you so Mom and Dad don't freak out?"
He frowned, but his hands were already rubbing the pup's head. Houndour, clingy and content, flopped onto the soft bed, eyes half-lidded in bliss.
"Weren't Houndour supposed to be aloof and hard to bond with? And picky about who they accept as a trainer? Why are you so different?"
He ruffled the short, sleek fur at the nape again, grinning despite himself. The texture was addicting.
"Don't tell me a husky soul moved into a hellhound's body and decided to recognize a master at random…"
In the end, he chalked it up to the strange golden finger. Maybe the system had spawned it with a high friendship value from the start.
Thinking that, Ethan wanted to check what the golden finger looked like after drawing his first Pokémon.
"Houndour, can you go back in the Ball for a bit?"
He lifted the Poké Ball and waggled it invitingly.
Houndour shook its head like a rattle drum, then opened its mouth and yipped softly at him.
"Uh…"
They did not teach Pokéspeech in nine years of compulsory education.
"Hungry?"
He guessed — and nailed it. Houndour nodded hard.
"Alright. Give me a sec — I'll find you something."
"Houn!" the pup yipped, tail thumping.
Ethan closed the Houndour status overlay and the system's main screen came back into focus. He pinched the hologram's corner; just as he suspected, the display resized smoothly — palm-small to home-theater wide.
There were only three icons on the main interface: an altar, a backpack, and something that looked like a phone — probably a Pokédex.
The captions confirmed it: the altar icon was [Swap]. The bag was [Backpack] — likely spatial storage. The phone was [Dex].
A space-pack wasn't mind-blowing in this world; true folded-space backpacks had existed for over a decade — just hideously expensive. Even the tiniest one-square-meter model started around a million credits.
As for the Dex, every trainer dreamed of owning a full one. The Aurelia League sold regional versions, but a world Dex wasn't sold at all — information was priceless. You either had it issued by the World League or pieced one together by buying each region's Dex (assuming those leagues even sold them to outsiders).
Useful as [Backpack] and [Dex] were, Ethan's eyes kept drifting to the altar: [Swap].
In the top-right corner of the main UI, a number glowed: 2,000.
A currency? Tied to [Swap] only? It didn't seem to interact with the other two.
He tapped [Swap].
The screen dissolved into a sky-blue vortex filled with twinkling points, like a galaxy. The 2,000 still hovered in the corner.
"Okay, I see a wallet. Where's the shop?"
He reached into the projection; his hand passed through, warping the image. The lights didn't react.
Wrong approach.
As he pondered, Houndour nudged his dangling hand with a soft whine.
"Sorry, buddy. Got carried away. I'll grab you a berry."
He remembered the Oran Berry Mr. Carter had given him yesterday and went to fetch it for Houndour.
The moment he fed the berry, something seemed to trigger. The vortex spun, lights flickering, and a window popped open.
"Whoa. A universal shop?"
It was a Berry catalog — nearly seventy varieties. Oran and Pecha he knew, Sitrus and Starf he'd heard of. Others he hadn't: long-term use of some could mitigate certain type weaknesses. (Game effects, but "realized" differently here.)
If a Pinsir ate the right Berry regimen and became noticeably tougher versus Rock Slide… that was huge. Ethan's heart kicked. With these, the title of Type-Reversal Specialist didn't seem so far-fetched.
But the prices weren't cheap.Oran/Pecha: 2–5 energy each.Specialized Berries (like the type-resist group): 50–80.A rare conditioning Berry sat at a flat 100.
So 2,000 was an energy balance — the unit for buying things in [Swap]. He just didn't know how to earn more yet.
He closed the list, pulse still quick. If this really "granted requests," the future looked bright — if he found a way to refill that meter. At 2,000, he could only afford twenty of the 100-point Berries — a month's worth at best.
"I want a Dratini," he said to the vortex.
Nothing. Not a single light blinked. The UI seemed to whisper back, be serious.
He coughed. "Right. Either not enough energy, or it can't provide living creatures. But then where did Houndour come from?"
"Houn!" the pup piped up around the last bite of Oran.
"Keep eating — not you."
No manual appeared. Fine — experiment.
"I want a Weedle."
No response. So, no Pokémon via the shop.
He tried the next obvious category. "Evolution Stones."
The vortex spun, lights strobed, and a new window unfurled:
Fire Stone — 3000Thunder Stone — 3000…Dusk Stone — 5000…Heracrossite — 20000Tyranitarite — 30000…Key Stone — 2000
Ethan's breath hitched. Evolution Stones were nice — but Mega Stones and a Key Stone? If he could figure out how to earn energy, he'd never be strangled by resource scarcity again.
Calm down. He waved the window away, exited [Swap], and let his pulse settle."The future… might actually be doable."
He checked the other two functions.
[Backpack] was exactly what it seemed. He stored a few books, retrieved them — seamless.
He tapped [Dex]. A small circular device launched out of the hologram.
"Ha. You think I'll fall for that twice?"
He bent and let it whiz by. The screen flashed a message:
'Scanning Bracelet issued. Please equip.'
"…This counts as durable tech, right?" He scooped up the bracelet, slipped it onto his left wrist.
It was black and flexible, under a centimeter wide, with a classic red-and-white Poké Ball logo. The moment it seated, he felt it link to his thoughts; he could will it to act.
Without a sound or light, it scanned. In a blink, Houndour's status surfaced in his mind:
Name: HoundourLevel: 6Ability: Flash FireEgg Moves: Fire Spin, Sucker Punch, Destiny Bond, Nasty PlotKnown Moves: Leer, Ember, Howl
A more detailed page unfolded at a mental tap. Two Egg Moves were greyed out — the report noted they were inherited but lacked the opportunity to be mastered yet.
He exhaled a low whistle. "Yeah… that tracks for a golden-finger Pokémon."
Those are premium egg moves for a freshly hatched Houndour. In the real market, only a top-tier breeder could offer that pedigree.
Quick math: a wild-caught, healthy non-pseudo-legendary typically sold for 50–100k. A pedigree like this — dark-type practicality, solid base stats, striking looks, female or male either way, plus four premium Egg Moves — could break a million at auction.
"And already Level 6," Ethan murmured, turning the Poké Ball in his hand, pride welling up. "Past infancy — means I can push training a bit. That makes the entrance exam a lot less scary."
In this world, centuries of study had turned strength into data — not a shallow game number, but a composite: development, conditioning, elemental control, move mastery, and more.Levels weren't everything; upsets happened all the time. Matchups, mentality, terrain… they all counted.
Which is why Pokémon battles were the perfect sport: thrilling, strategic, blazing — and utterly addictive.
(Author's note: I'm leaning into "levels + titles" as a clear strength metric for a real-world feel. Egg moves and training won't always mirror the games/anime. Thanks for rolling with it — this isn't a game-UI story, it's a grounded Pokémon-in-reality tale.)