The image of Whitney leaning in way too close to his face resurfaced in Peter's mind. His nose suddenly felt hot, and he hurriedly forced his thoughts elsewhere.
Finding a shaded spot, he sat down and began seriously thinking about his future.
In terms of age, Peter was about to become an adult.
Eighteen.
The Pokémon League's officially mandated latest starting age.
According to League regulations, Trainers who begin their journey between the ages of 10 and 18 can freely participate in regional League Conferences. However, anyone who exceeds that age limit must already possess a previous Conference record of Top 64 or higher before they're even allowed to apply again.
Trainer life was inherently dangerous.
For those without talent or backing, the League didn't encourage reckless adventuring.
Which meant—
This year was Peter's last chance.
That was why he'd been saving money all along: to make one final, all-in push.
Peter clenched his fist, his eyes burning with resolve.
Since he'd already come to this world, how could he not make something of himself?
Otherwise, how could he face his identity as a man from Earth?
"…Why don't I have the standard isekai cheat already?"
Peter looked up at the sky, half-expecting a system drop to fall straight into his hands.
He'd waited years.
Nothing.
At this rate, he'd become the most pathetic transmigrator in history.
Just as that thought crossed his mind—
A pair of southern hemispheres suddenly blocked his view.
"Peter, can you come help me milk today? I'm not feeling too well…"
Whitney clasped her hands together, pleading exactly the same way she had the first time they met.
"…Help you?" Peter froze, his gaze subconsciously drifting downward.
Only when he noticed the confusion on Whitney's face did he realize—
He'd misunderstood.
She meant milking the Miltank.
MooMoo Milk.
Peter coughed lightly, putting on a serious expression.
"Ahem… sure. But you keep an eye on them. I'm not interested in eating a hoof again."
Seeing him agree, Whitney smiled mischievously.
"No problem~"
Soon, she led Peter into the cowshed. Several buckets of fresh milk were already filled and set aside.
"Just a bit more! There're only a dozen left—let's start!"
Whitney directed the Miltank into neat lines. Peter brought over an empty bucket and tried to recall his limited milking experience from the past few years…
Seeing the exhaustion on Whitney's face, he sighed inwardly and grabbed the nearest Miltank, squeezing hard.
"MO—!"
The Miltank let out a pained cry and promptly slapped Peter flat with a single hoof.
"That's not how you do it!" Whitney rushed over to explain.
"You start gentle, then apply strength slowly. You have to be soft first…"
Peter rubbed his head and climbed back up, giving it another try.
He figured he'd just treat it as practice—accumulating massage experience for his future Pokémon.
"Hey, Miltank's that big—don't just pinch the tip! You need to hold the whole thing, then go from the base to the top… yes, like that! Up and down!"
Watching Peter improve at a shocking speed, Whitney smiled approvingly.
"Wow, you're actually pretty talented~"
Peter, however, wore a deeply conflicted expression.
Logically speaking…
Why did this feel strangely similar to certain skilled handwork from his previous life?
In short—
Make the Miltank comfortable, and the milk comes out.
Peter couldn't help glancing at Whitney before lowering his head and continuing his work.
If you'd told me this technique earlier, I would've been done ages ago…
I'm really good at this kind of thing…
But wait.
If Whitney's this skilled at milking, does that mean her hands—
His thoughts drifted far, far away.
Eventually, he even started pondering whether the distance between the Northern and Southern Hemispheres could be controlled with two hands.
Finally, in a haze of unconscious distraction, the day's work was finished.
"All done!"
Whitney stretched lazily, fully revealing her exaggerated curves.
Peter immediately turned his head away.
At that moment, one of the Miltank walked over and gently rubbed its head against Peter's palm.
"Moo~"
The female Miltank squinted its eyes, looking thoroughly satisfied.
Peter: "???"
Did I just… win over a Miltank with my hand skills?
Just as that thought formed—
A mechanical voice echoed inside his mind.
[Ding! Host has gained the recognition of Pokémon: Miltank.]
[Reward obtained: Master Points ×3]
[Master Training System initializing…]
[Initialization complete. Please check manually.]
"…?!!!!!"
System?!
Peter's pupils dilated.
"Finally—FINALLY!!! The day has come! I, Peter, have waited so long for this!!! Hahahahaha!"
Overcome with excitement, he suddenly pulled Whitney into a tight hug, pressing her firmly against his chest.
Whitney's face instantly flushed red.
"F-Peter… you're hurting me…"
"Huh? Oh—oh! Sorry, sorry! I just got too excited…"
Only then did Peter realize the violent waves crashing against his chest.
He immediately let go of the blushing girl.
"J-Just… remember to come eat later…"
Whitney hurriedly straightened her clothes and ran off in a fluster.
Peter, however, didn't notice her shyness at all.
He was already fully absorbed in studying the system.
"System, what can you do?"
"..."
"Hey? You there? System! Your house is on fire!"
"..."
"Can you at least respond to me?!"
"..."
"…Was that just auditory hallucination?"
Peter sighed in disappointment and absentmindedly rubbed the Miltank's head.
And then—
He froze.
Because a status panel suddenly appeared before his eyes.
Miltank ♀ – Lv.30 (Advanced)
Ability: Early Bird
(Naturally resistant to sleep status. Time required to wake up from sleep is halved.)
Friendship: 100 (Max: 255)
Held Item: None
Talent: 401 (Species Maximum: 490)
Moves:
Rollout (Proficient)Milk Drink (Mastered)Defense Curl (Proficient)Body Slam (Learned)
Description:
A Miltank that dislikes sleeping in. Under the influence of ranch manager Peter, it has developed a healthy habit of early sleep and early rising.
…
"…What?!"
Peter was stunned.
As a professional Pokémon game streamer, he knew this for a fact—
The Miltank does NOT naturally have the Ability Early Bird.
And according to the description…
This Ability was acquired later because Peter had structured its daily routine.
Abilities…
Can be changed?!
Peter's mind raced.
A bold idea formed.
The legendary Slaking without Truant.
If that were possible…
Then he could walk a path no one had ever taken before.
From his knowledge, although this world had Trainer and Pokémon level distinctions, it lacked true data visualization.
Which meant—
The system had granted him the ability to see Pokémon stats.
Having cared for Miltank for so long, Peter knew this ability alone was already a cheat.
Imagine this:
When capturing Pokémon, you can clearly see their condition and preferences.
When training Pokémon, you can precisely monitor move mastery.
You could even tell whether a Pokémon sticking its butt out was about to fart or poop.
Total understanding. Personalized customization.
In battle, you'd know your opponent's entire move pool in advance—
It'd be like playing cards while the other side's hand was completely face-up.
"Looks like… with a system, even a pig could fly."
Peter muttered, then began inspecting the Miltank around the ranch, gathering more information.
Soon, he learned several key limitations.
First: viewing status panels consumed mental energy. Overuse caused dizziness, and the farther the target, the higher the cost.
So it couldn't be used recklessly.
Second: according to the system, Pokémon levels were divided into the following tiers:
Beginner → Basic → Intermediate → Advanced → Elite → Gym
Each tier spanned ten levels.
For example, the Lv.30 Miltank earlier had just entered the Advanced tier.
Across the entire ranch, there was only one Gym-tier Miltank—
The late Gym Leader's partner Pokémon.
It stood at Lv.53.
As for levels beyond 60…
Peter suspected those might correspond to Elite Four, Champion, or even Master tiers.
He'd have to see one in person to know for sure.