You can read ahead up to 15 chapters on my Patreon, and I've also activated a (date-to-date) subscription model on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395
In the Sinnoh Region, the Pokémon Center and the Pokémon League store have teamed up, blending their services into one convenient hub.
Most everyday Pokémon essentials, like Poké Balls, Potions, and berries, are now stocked right inside the Pokémon Center. But for Trainers craving a wider variety, the sprawling shopping districts in cities like Hearthome or Veilstone offer a dazzling array of goods to choose from.
Luther grabbed a handful of Poké Balls and some spray-on Potions for those unexpected scrapes. But as he rummaged through his bag, he noticed his Pokémon League coins were dwindling fast.
The Poké Balls and Potions weren't the real culprits, though. His recent stay in the Pokémon Center's infirmary was to blame.
Every Trainer with a valid license can enjoy the Pokémon Center's perks for free with cozy beds, hearty Pokémon chow, and expert care for their teams, all on the house.
But when it comes to Trainers themselves getting patched up? That's another story. Even with the Pokémon League pitching in to cover some costs, a few fees still sneak through the cracks.
Luther's stash had plummeted from two thousand Pokémon League coins to under five hundred, which is a real headache for any Trainer on the road.
His original plan was to breeze through the Oreburgh City Gym's challenge, then kick back in town for a bit, drilling his Pokémon on new moves. But with his funds running dry, he set his sights on Jubilife City instead.
Oreburgh City thrives on grit, tied to mining and Pokémon with raw endurance, while Jubilife City buzzes with opportunity.
Word on the PokéNav was that Jubilife had more Trainers roaming its streets, plus top-notch battle arenas that outshone Oreburgh's rugged fields.
For both fattening his wallet and sharpening his skills, Jubilife City was the clear winner.
There was another perk, too. After syncing his Trainer ID at the Oreburgh Pokémon Center, Luther tapped into the network and learned Ash had just rolled into Jubilife City.
Luther couldn't help but admire how Ash turned a straight path into a wild adventure.
The bus from the Pokémon Center to Oreburgh City took Luther just three hours, and the ride from Oreburgh to Jubilife was a steady four. Yet Ash stretched a trip that should've been a week or two into a rollercoaster trek across Sinnoh's hills.
If memory served him right, a 6-on-6 showdown was brewing in Jubilife City between Champion Cynthia and that brooding Trainer, Paul. Well, more like a one-sided thrashing.
Paul might've mellowed out later, but his early days of sharp words and teenage rebellion rubbed Luther the wrong way. Watching him get humbled? That was a front-row seat Luther wouldn't miss.
Jumpluff bounced onto a shelf, accidentally knocking a chocolate bar square onto Luther's face. He got the hint and dashed off to snag some treats for her.
When he stepped out of the shop, a bag of snacks in hand, his Pokémon League coins had dipped to four hundred. Jumpluff, perched atop the bag, didn't care about his budget woes, she was too busy eyeing her options, plotting her first bite.
Back in the Pokémon Center's recovery room, Marill sprawled across the bed, her tail flicking lazily. She'd clearly hit it off with the resident Misdreavus, who'd even surrendered her spot so Marill could lounge in comfort.
With Misdreavus out of the room, the check-up sign on the table was flipped, and the bedside lamp glowed softly. Nurse Joy must've been giving Misdreavus a once-over.
Luther scooped up Marill, who flopped in his arms. Aside from some shivers, she seemed fine, no worse for wear after her ordeal.
While browsing the Pokémon Center's shop, Luther spotted a sign pointing to a rehabilitation zone out back, designed for tuning up Pokémon and getting them in top shape. Curious, he nudged the door open and stepped inside, greeted by a lively hum of activity.
Scattered across the space, Trainers huddled in little pockets, fussing over their Pokémon's condition. On the far side loomed a spacious battle arena, split into four quadrants. In one section, a Tangela and a Growlithe were locked in combat, their Trainers, two kids, maybe fifteen or sixteen, calling out commands with earnest focus.
A decent crowd had gathered to watch the showdown. Luther guided his trio of Pokémon to an open spot in the arena and plopped down on the grass.
Type-wise, Growlithe held the edge with its fiery flair, but it was stumbling into a real mess.
Every Flamethrower and Will-O-Wisp it unleashed sailed wide, while Tangela's Vine Whip and Energy Ball landed with pinpoint precision.
The second Growlithe bared its Fire Fang but a puff of Stun Spore from Tangela froze it mid-lunge…
The two Trainers were playing this like a scene straight out of a Pokémon video game, they were rigid with no improvisation. No grabbing openings, no countering on the fly, no reading the foe's next move. Just a stiff back-and-forth of shouted attacks.
"Growlithe, use Flamethrower!"
"Tangela, Vine Whip!"
"Growlithe, Fire Fang!"
"Tangela, Energy Ball…"
Tangela's Trainer seemed a notch sharper. His Pokémon moved with a polish that spoke of solid training, and he at least leaned on move effects to throw Growlithe off balance.
Even so, Jumpluff shot the battling pair a look of pure scorn, and Luther rubbed the back of his head, stumped.
How to put it… it was like watching two Pidgey peck at each other in a dust-up.
The crowd beyond Luther roared with excitement, which left him baffled. Did a scrap this basic really warrant such a ruckus?
After mulling it over, the pieces clicked for him.
Since landing in this world, he'd fought twice: once against Professor Rowan and once against that rogue Misdreavus. The first was a Blind Pick 6-on-6, a test for Pokédex hopefuls. Professor Rowan, a Rookie-wrecker extraordinaire, could steamroll ninety percent of Trainers, unless they were someone like Luther, who'd tumbled in from another reality.
The Misdreavus clash didn't even count as a proper battle, just a wild, rule-free tussle. More like a mutual thrashing, really. Luther and his team had pulled through, dodging disaster like they were threading a needle with Steel-type string.
Those two fights had jacked up his expectations way too high. Watching these roadside Trainers slug it out felt like some NPC from a game charging up with a question mark overhead, only to hand over pocket change after a quick loss…
Professor Rowan had warned him about this. Trainers like Luther, hungry for real battles, needed to hit the official challenge platforms to find worthy foes.
Tangela clinched the win, no surprise there. Then Luther caught Growlithe's Trainer wincing as he pulled out his Pokégear, swapping info with Tangela's Trainer.
The Pokémon League, along with some big-name sponsors, ran battle point systems for these challenge hubs. Winning in certified arenas with official logs racked up points on the platform, currency Trainers could cash in for prizes down the line.
Unofficial battles in the wild can still earn points if both Trainers agree to log the results.
On top of that, the Pokémon League, its partner companies, and their sprawling network of shops and battle platforms all back a system where battle points double as currency. For Trainers, these points are practically as good as Pokémon League coins.
If a Trainer's Pokémon League battle points hit zero, they're locked out of challenging anyone with points. Besides the weekly trickle of points that naturally refreshes, those flat broke can pitch in with Pokémon League volunteer gigs, helping at Centers or Gyms, to scrape together some starter points. It's a clever way the League keeps things humming.
The corporate battle point setup is simpler: splash a little cash, and you can top off your basic points. The catch? Those bought points won't snag you any prizes from the exchange counter.
Thanks to the Pokémon League's massive reputation and top-tier facilities, their battle points outshine the ones from private companies. Still, those companies pour serious resources into their platforms, throwing flashy events that lure Trainers into downloading a slew of battle apps.
Luther couldn't help but wonder how many points Growlithe's Trainer had just kissed goodbye.
Glancing at his own stash, fifty Pokémon League battle points, he felt a sudden urge to sit out the next fight. It wasn't just the low number; aside from Jumpluff, his other two Pokémon lagged in move mastery, with barely a handful of techniques they could pull off well. Against a seasoned battler, he'd just be handing over points like a walking Poké Mart.
Back in the rehabilitation zone, Luther let Marill out of her Poké Ball and paired her with Ralts to work on Psychic moves.
Ralts's Psychic power was shaky at best, more flicker than force. Its biggest moment was stalling that rogue Misdreavus mid-attack during their wild clash, but even that was a stretch.
Unlike the games, where a TM could zap a move into a Pokémon's arsenal, real-world training was a grind. Moves came from sweat, instinct, and a Trainer's direction, not a quick button press.
With enough practice and the right coaching, any move in a Pokémon's potential could take root. Some gifted Pokémon, with rare talent or powerhouse lineage, could even push past their natural limits and master moves they weren't born to learn.
That's why this world had Move Tutors, experts obsessed with the nitty-gritty of Pokémon techniques. They could break down every twitch and spark of a move, guiding a Pokémon step-by-step with seasoned precision.
A Pokémon's raw strength mattered, too. The tougher they got, the easier it was for them to grasp unfamiliar moves.
Right now, Luther's Ralts was on the frail side. Without a big boost, and with Luther still green when it came to training, armed only with basic know-how, they were stuck starting from scratch.
"Try lifting Marill," Luther said, giving Ralts a reassuring pat to nudge her into the basics.
Ralts's Psychic aura flared, wrapping around Marill, who did her best to stay limp and not throw off the vibe.
Sweat beaded on Ralts fast, but Marill didn't budge, like an anchor dug into the dirt. Luther called it quits when Ralts flopped over, exhausted. Marill shot him a baffled look, and Luther stared back, just as lost.
He hoisted Marill again, testing her heft. She felt slick and chilly, so he tracked down a scale and plopped her on it: 10 kg. A quick Pokédex check confirmed his Marill was chunkier than average…
But she didn't 'feel' like 10 kg to him, more like a breezy Frillish.
Natural super-strength? No chance. Then it hit him: folks in this world seemed built tougher than in his old one. It tracked, anime Trainers sometimes tussled with Pokémon bare-handed. If humans here were as flimsy as back home, tales of wild Pokémon ambushes turning deadly would probably pile up.
Marill fidgeted, scratching her head with tiny paws, clearly sheepish about her weight stalling Ralts's training. Luther squirmed, not wanting to admit that Ralts's rookie-level Psychic was the real bottleneck.
(End of Chapter)