"I can do that," I confirmed. "Though I'm not sure why you need me specifically."
"Because you have experience that most new trainers lack," Oak said. "You've bonded with Gible, trained together, and achieved results that most trainers don't see until months into their journey. You can speak to the reality of partnership in a way I can't—I'm a researcher, not an active trainer. The new cohort will benefit from hearing your perspective."
That made sense, even if it felt strange to be positioned as some mentor figure when I'd only been in this world for three weeks.
Oak reached into his desk and pulled out two items—a red rectangular device about the size of a smartphone, and a tablet similar to the one Elara carried.
"This is your Pokédex," he said, handing me the red device. "Standard League issue. It contains information on all four hundred ninety-three documented Pokémon species, can scan and identify specimens in the field, and tracks your progress as a trainer—badges earned, Pokémon caught, significant achievements."
I turned the Pokédex over in my hands, examining it. The device was heavier than I'd expected. The screen was dark but activated when I pressed the power button, displaying a simple interface with various menu options.
"And this," Oak continued, handing me the tablet, "is for research purposes. I'm asking you to document any Prism Pokémon you encounter during your journey. Photographs, observations, battle data, anything that might help us understand the phenomenon better. You have a unique ability to identify these specimens, and I want to leverage that for the advancement of Pokémon science."
I took the tablet, feeling the weight of the request. Oak was essentially making my journey a dual-purpose expedition—personal growth as a trainer, and active research into Prism Transformations.
"I'll do my best," I said. "Though I should mention that I still don't fully understand how the identification works. It's not something I can turn on or off deliberately."
"That's fine," Oak assured me. "Whatever data you can provide will be valuable. Even negative results—Pokémon you check that don't show the silver glow—help us narrow down the parameters."
Elara leaned forward, her scientific curiosity clearly piqued despite her earlier frustration with my refusal to explain the optimization process. "Will you be documenting Gible's continued development as well? Tracking stat growth, move acquisition, behavioral changes?"
"If Samael is willing," Oak said, looking at me.
I considered. On one hand, I wanted to keep the system as private as possible. On the other hand, providing some information about Gible's progress didn't necessarily reveal the system's existence—I could frame it as a natural development of a Prism Pokémon.
"I can provide general information," I said carefully. "Level progression, move learning, observable physical changes. But I won't be sharing everything. Some aspects of my training methods are... personal."
Oak nodded, accepting the boundary. "Understood. Whatever you're comfortable sharing will suffice."
He stood, indicating the meeting was concluded. "You should head home and rest. Tomorrow will be a long day, and you'll want to be prepared. The new trainers arrive at nine in the morning."
"Home?" I asked. "I have a residence here?"
"Of course," Oak said, looking slightly surprised I would ask. "The Oak family has maintained a house in Pallet Town for generations. It's on the hill overlooking the way out—you can't miss it. The access codes are already programmed into your Pokédex."
We left the laboratory together, stepping out into the snow.
The cold hit me again, and I watched my breath mist in the air, feeling the sting of windchill against exposed skin.
Gible pressed close to my leg, the little dragon's steel-plated body seeming unbothered by the temperature.
"This is wrong," I said aloud, not really directing the comment at anyone in particular. "Pallet Town shouldn't be like this."
Elara glanced at me. "Have you been here before?"
"No," I admitted. "But I've heard stories. Descriptions. It's supposed to be warmer, more temperate. This feels like..."
'Like a different world,' I thought, but didn't announce.
"Climate shifts can happen quickly when geographic factors align poorly," Elara said, pulling up her tablet and checking something. "Ocean currents, atmospheric pressure, and even volcanic activity in distant regions can affect local weather patterns. It's unusual, but not impossible."
I wanted to argue, to point out that this wasn't just unusual weather but a divergence from what I knew Pallet Town should be. But how could I explain that knowledge without revealing I had memories from another world, another life?
"I suppose," I said instead, letting the subject drop.
We parted ways at the laboratory entrance—Oak and Elara heading back inside to continue their work, while I set out to find the Oak residence.
The town itself was small, exactly as I'd expected from the games. A handful of buildings clustered together—houses, a small shop, what looked like a Pokémon Center in the distance.
Paths connected everything, though they were currently obscured by snow. I saw a few people moving about despite the weather, bundled in heavy coats, going about their daily business.
And there, at the edge of town, I saw a hill rising above the surrounding landscape.
A path wound up its slope, and at the top, I could make out a structure—large, multi-storied, clearly designed to be impressive.
I read a sign that said Oak residence.
I started walking, Gible trotting alongside me through the snow. The little dragon seemed fascinated by the white powder, occasionally stopping to nose at it or snap at falling snowflakes.
'This is new,' Gible said through our mental connection. 'Cold. Wet. But interesting. Everything here is interesting.'
"We're really starting now," I said quietly. "Tomorrow I'm officially a trainer. Licensed by the League. Free to travel, to challenge gyms, to catch other Pokémon."