The blue letters didn't fade.
They hung in front of Enzo's eyes like a glitch that refused to correct itself—perfectly aligned, perfectly crisp, impossibly real.
[ INITIATING VIRUS SYSTEM… ]
[ SYNCHRONIZATION: 100% ]
Enzo blinked hard.
Once. Twice.
The text stayed.
He lifted a hand and swiped through it, half-expecting his fingers to meet resistance, half-expecting the whole thing to shatter like a fever dream.
His hand passed through empty air.
No ripple. No distortion.
But the letters remained, anchored to his vision like they belonged there.
His pulse kicked up.
This wasn't heatstroke.
This wasn't trauma.
This was… a system?
Something Deoxys had left inside him.
The jungle around him hummed—wet heat, salt wind, distant surf—and for a moment the contrast almost made him nauseous. He had been dying in vacuum a second ago. Now he was breathing air so thick it felt like it had weight.
Enzo forced himself to inhale slowly.
Then he looked down.
The backpack strap cut into his shoulder. The bag was real, heavy against his back. The kind of weight Team Rocket loved: practical, cheap, and full of "good luck, don't die."
He slid the backpack off and set it on the dirt.
The letters stayed in his vision, hovering slightly above the bag as if watching.
He unzipped the main compartment.
Ration bars. A small water flask. A folded foil blanket. A cheap knife.
Standard survival kit.
Then his fingers brushed something round and cold inside a side pocket.
His breath caught.
A Poké Ball.
Not on his belt.
Not presented like a ceremony.
Just tucked away like ammunition.
Enzo held it up, turning it between his fingers.
The ball looked normal. Scuffed metal, clean button.
But the moment it touched his palm, the blue interface flickered again—subtle, like it had been waiting for contact.
A new pane slid into place.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — ]
Specimen: Koffing
Level: 5 (Novice)
Type: Poison
Potential: RED (TRASH)
Moves: Tackle (Normal) | Self-Destruct (Normal)
Obs: "Cognitive Index: Extremely Low. Unstable specimen. Recurring suicidal aggression. Attempts Self-Destruct whenever opportunity arises (triggered by stress, excitement, boredom, or confusion)."
Enzo's jaw tightened.
Then his eyes flicked back to the floating panel.
Not the words.
The fact that the words were there at all.
He didn't need a scanner cart. Didn't need a League terminal. No lab lights, no cables, no expensive League-grade machine that only rich trainers and high-ranking Rocket units could touch.
And yet the system had just read a sealed Poké Ball like it was nothing.
Level. Type. Potential. Moves.
Information the League sold in polished rooms for polished money—now hanging in the air in front of an orphan on a dirt island.
For a second, his throat went dry.
"If this is real…" he murmured, almost afraid to finish the thought.
His gaze hardened.
Then he looked at the name on the panel.
Koffing.
Of course.
Same island. Same drop. Same curse.
The blue letters snapped brighter.
[ WARNING ]
[ ABNORMAL TRIGGER DETECTED: SELF-DESTRUCT PATTERN ]
[ THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL ]
Enzo's teeth ground together.
"So it really is insane," he muttered. "And suicidal."
Then a new prompt appeared, clean and centered.
[ VIRUS SYSTEM PROMPT ]
Compatible target detected.
Transmit VIRUS to Pokémon?
YES / NO
Enzo stared at the word VIRUS.
He didn't know what the virus really was.
But he knew what he was without it.
A recruit on Trial Island with a suicidal Koffing.
He didn't have any other choice.
"Yes," Enzo said, voice flat.
The Poké Ball warmed sharply.
A pulse ran through it—blue, then violet—like veins lighting under skin.
Enzo felt a tug in his chest, thin and unpleasant, as if something had threaded itself from his heart to the ball.
Not emotion.
Not friendship.
A tether.
The text stamped itself across his vision:
[ VIRUS TRANSMISSION: CONFIRMED ]
[ INJECTING… ]
[ … ]
[ INJECTION COMPLETE ]
The profile window flickered and updated.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Koffing (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 5 (Novice)
Type: Poison
Potential: DEEP RED (TRASH)
Moves: Tackle (Normal) | Self-Destruct (Normal)
Bond Indicator: "Increased proximity to host detected."
Obs: "Cognitive Index: Extremely Low. Unstable specimen. Recurring suicidal aggression. Attempts Self-Destruct whenever opportunity arises (triggered by stress, excitement, boredom, or confusion)."
Enzo froze.
Not for half a second—longer.
Because what he was looking at wasn't just information.
It was a cheat code.
He'd seen League appraisal machines before. Not up close—never for someone like him—but he'd seen them rolled into elite classrooms and Rocket facilities like altars: polished metal, calibrated lenses, licensed software, technicians standing around them like priests. Devices that cost more than an orphan's entire future.
And this… this was doing the same thing in midair.
Worse.
It didn't just read the Pokémon.
It changed it.
One word. One confirmation.
And the System had pushed a RED potential upward—instantly.
Deep Red.
Trash still, sure—but it had moved.
Enzo's stomach tightened with a different kind of fear.
Because if it could do that to Red…
What would it do to a Green?
A Blue?
A Purple?
If the effect scaled the same way, even slightly… then this wasn't a tool.
It was something that could snap the League's balance over its knee.
He swallowed, forcing his mind to stay clinical.
Everyone knew the color grades. Even the lowest grunts used them—because that's how the world decided what was worth feeding and what was worth replacing.
Red (Trash/Defective): the bottom of the food chain. Capped growth.
Orange (Common): the average wild Pokémon. Cannon fodder.
Yellow (Rare): above average. Worth training for low-tier grunts.
Green (Excellent): strong. The backbone of a competent team.
Blue (Prodigy): League starter level. The limit for most talented trainers.
Purple (Monstrous): pseudo-legendaries, mutants. The elite of the elite.
That was the scale.
That was what people talked about.
But nobody—nobody—said "Deep" anything out loud.
To most trainers, a Green was a Green. A Red was a Red. The category was the category.
Only veteran professors and top-end evaluators could sometimes tell the difference inside the same color—subtle things: the way a Pokémon held itself, how fast it adapted, how cleanly it learned. A "this one's sharper" gut feeling earned through decades.
And the System had just done it with a single line of text.
DEEP RED.
Not a new color.
A refinement.
A precision the world didn't officially have.
Enzo's eyes flicked back to the panel, heart beating a little too hard.
"So you can see between the grades," he whispered, almost reverent despite himself.
Then the tether in his chest tightened again—an ugly reminder that this "miracle" had a cost.
He stared at the bond indicator next.
He hated the word host…
But he liked increased proximity.
If the virus made the Koffing stay close, hesitate, listen—even a little—then it was worth it.
He released the Koffing, carefully.
Light flashed.
Purple gas formed.
The same drooling grin.
The same dead-simple eyes.
But this time, instead of drifting away immediately, it bobbed in place… and then floated closer.
Not affectionate.
Not loyal.
Just… nearer, like a magnet had been moved under the table.
Enzo held perfectly still, watching for the swell, the trigger, the blast.
The Koffing burbled.
Its cheeks puffed slightly—
Enzo's voice cut through like a blade.
"Don't."
The Koffing paused.
The puff deflated.
It blinked, confused, and hovered closer again until it was almost bumping his shoulder.
Enzo's fingers curled slowly.
Good.
Not safe.
But controllable.
A chime slammed into his skull again—stronger than before.
A new window appeared with almost cheerful energy.
[ CONGRATULATIONS ]
Mission Completed: "CAPTURE THE KOFFING"
Status: COMPLETE
Enzo blinked.
He hadn't even been told it was a mission.
The System didn't care.
It continued.
[ REWARD ]
Great Ball x2
Two Great Balls materialized in the air in front of him with a soft shimmer then dropped into the dirt with a light thud.
Enzo stared at them for half a second.
Then he picked them up, one in each hand.
Real weight. Real metal. Real items.
So the System could generate rewards.
Or pull them from somewhere.
Either way, it meant one thing:
This wasn't a fantasy UI.
This was a mechanism.
And it had rules.
Before he could even tuck the Great Balls away, the interface shifted again—darker, sharper, less friendly.
[ NEW MISSION ]
Enzo's eyes lifted.
[ MISSION 2: FIND A STARTER ]
Koffing is NOT suitable as a starter.
Designation: TEMPORARY POKÉMON.
Time Limit: 3 DAYS
Objective: Obtain a Green grade potential Pokémon.
Failure: TIMEOUT = DEATH
Success Reward: ??????
Bonus: Complete before 3 days for additional reward.
Enzo went very still.
Death.
Not "punishment."
Not "try again."
Death.
A clean sentence with no emotion attached.
His throat tightened.
Three days.
On Trial Island, three days could be a lifetime.
Or it could be the time it took for you to bleed out somewhere nobody would ever find.
The Koffing floated next to him, drooling onto the air, harmless-looking in the way bombs always looked harmless right up until they weren't.
Enzo stared into the jungle.
Somewhere out there was a Pokémon worth keeping.
He tightened the straps of his backpack and slid the Great Balls into an inner pocket where he could reach them fast.
Then he looked at the Koffing again.
It hovered closer, as if waiting for the next stupid instruction.
Enzo's voice came out quiet.
"Three days," he said.
The Koffing burbled.
Enzo didn't smile.
But his eyes hardened into something that had nothing to do with hope.
He'd died in space once.
He wasn't dying on this island.
"Alright," he murmured. "You're not my starter."
He shifted his stance and pointed toward the jungle.
"But you're useful."
The Koffing blinked.
Then drifted after him—too close, too obedient, still dangerously dumb.
Above everything, the blue interface remained in the corner of his vision like an unblinking eye.
Three days.
Or die.