Long before they were called Secret Domains, the rifts were known only as wounds in the sky.
They opened without warning — silent tears in space from which creatures emerged.
We thought them animals.
We were wrong.
They burned our cities, broke our armies, and drove humanity to the edge of extinction. No weapon we forged could force them back into the voids they came from.
Until a soldier found an egg.
He should have destroyed it. Instead, he carried it home.
When it hatched, humanity witnessed the first bond between human and Pokémon — and with it, the birth of the first Trainer.
In time, we gave names to the species we once called monsters. We explored the Secret Domains beyond the rifts and learned to fight beside them rather than against them. We created tools — Poké Balls, spatial storage — that allowed us to coexist.
The world did not change because the rifts closed.The world changed because we learned to live with what came through them.
The classroom had never been this quiet.
Every student sat upright, eyes fixed on the front as if even blinking might make them miss it. Today was Trainer Day — the day they would receive their first Pokémon. The day everything changed.
By decree of the Pokémon Alliances, no one could become an official Trainer before the age of eighteen. After receiving their partner, graduates were free to choose their path: enter the professional circuit, enlist in a regional defense force… or attend one of the five colleges that specialized in Pokémon studies.
Of those five, only one rejected battle as its primary discipline.
The Saffron Special — based out of Saffron City — focused on research, field medicine, and bond psychology. Because of that, it ranked fifth in the national Powerhouse standings.
Fourth place belonged to the Royal Guard.
They hadn't won the Collegiate League in over twenty years. Still, no one dared underestimate them. Their consistency had earned them a nickname spoken with equal parts respect and pity: The Ultimate Four.
Third was the Canada Stronghold, the Restless Bears — famous for clawing their way to the top again and again, only to fall just short of first place every season.
Second place was held by the Texas Horns. They didn't have an official nickname, but they did have a saying: Don't mess with us… or get the horn.
And at number one —
The National Wings.
Altitude Zero.
Because so far, no one had ever managed to rise above them.
As the class listened intently to the teacher, his mind wandered.
Most of the students around him were nervous. Some excited. A few whispered about which partner they hoped to receive. For them, today would end with a handshake, a Poké Ball… and a future.
For him, it would begin with a trial.
His family name carried weight. His grandfather was a Master-class Trainer. His father battled at a level comparable to a Gym Leader. In their household, strength wasn't encouraged — it was expected. And failure was never forgiven.
Everyone knew the ranking system:
Baby Face: Levels 0–5. Pokémon too young to battle safely.
Novice: 6–20
Pro: 21–39
Elite: 40–69
Master: 70–79
Elite Four: 80–90
Champion: 91–100
There was said to be one more — a peak beyond Champion — but no human Trainer had ever reached it. Only legendary Pokémon were believed to exist at that level.
In his family, no one was allowed a partner without first proving themselves worthy of such power.
To receive a Pokémon upon coming of age, one had to enter the Secret Domain known as Dragon's Heart under the watch of a guardian… and survive long enough for a dragon-lineage Pokémon to choose them.
Many… never returned.