Chapter 2

Tetsuya approached a machine adorned with the iconic red-and-white Poké Ball symbol and inserted his ID card.

A screen lit up, displaying his profile. His bounty hunter codename: Mercenary.

He spoke clearly. "Codename: Mercenary. Submitting mission. Task number 573677400."

A red light scanned him before the machine responded.

"Identity confirmed. Codename: Mercenary. Mission number: 573677400. Please deposit the requested items."

Tetsuya pulled a large bundle of herbs from his bag—Stargrass, a plant that thrived in areas densely populated by Grass-type Pokémon. It wasn't difficult to harvest, but gathering the required amount took time.

He placed the bundle into the designated slot. The machine's lid sealed shut.

"Testing…"

Tetsuya exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Another mission complete. Another step forward.

And soon, he'd take the next one.

The three starter Pokémon are primarily of Water, Fire, and Grass types, varying by region. In Kanto, they are Charmander, Squirtle, and Bulbasaur—each possessing three evolutionary stages and immense potential.

The Pokémon League assigns specialists to assess their approximate potential. The starter Pokémon given to officially recognized novice trainers all have excellent genetics and mild temperaments, making them reliable partners capable of reaching the threshold of a pseudo-king level with proper training.

On the black market, the prices of these starters don't quite reach the astronomical levels of pseudo-legendary eggs, as not every individual has top-tier potential. Even so, a single starter egg still costs upwards of 20 million Pokédollars—an utterly staggering amount.

For perspective, Tetsuya had only managed to earn a little over 4.5 million Pokédollars in the past four years, including the money he had already spent.

His suburban villa had only cost 800,000 Pokédollars, with the majority of his remaining funds going into raising his Pidgeot. Yet, despite over a year of dedicated training, his Pidgeot had only recently entered the Elite tier—partly due to his financial limitations, which had slowed its foundational development.

Tetsuya found himself lost in memory.

His first Pokémon wasn't Pidgeot—it was a Rattata.

When he first set out into the world, all he had to his name was the 10,000 Pokédollar scholarship provided by the League.

While that was enough for basic survival and securing a job, it was laughably insufficient for becoming a trainer.

Even the cheapest Pokémon egg on the black market—one from a Caterpie—was priced at a staggering 50,000 Pokédollars. And most Caterpie never even reached evolution, leaving their combat potential close to zero.

Capturing a wild Caterpie in a Poké Ball only cost 10,000 Pokédollars, but these ones were entirely incapable of evolving. If they had any chance of evolution, they would have already done so due to a Bug-type's rapid growth cycle.

Tetsuya refused to give up.

In this world, becoming a trainer was the only way to change his fate. More importantly, he had Zero, his golden finger.

So, against all reason, he ventured into Viridian Forest alone—gambling everything on the slim chance of finding an abandoned Pokémon egg.

It was a reckless plan. He barely escaped multiple times—chased by Beedrill, entangled in Caterpie silk, driven out of nesting grounds by territorial Pokémon. But then, against all odds, he found one.

An egg left behind by a Raticate.

Its potential was merely average. It would never evolve into Raticate. But it was his.

After returning to Viridian City and hatching the Rattata, Tetsuya did everything he could to care for it—even if he lacked the resources to follow Zero's ideal training plan.

Once Rattata passed its infant stage, Tetsuya registered as a bounty hunter to start earning money. He adopted the codename Mercenary, a tribute to the life he had left behind in his past world.

The income was meager, and survival was a daily struggle, but he and Rattata scraped by for two years, gradually saving money.

But fate had other plans.

During one of their missions, Tetsuya and Rattata were ambushed by a flock of Spearow.

Tetsuya survived.

Rattata didn't.

He was devastated.

But in this world, death was final. Unless one could find Ho-Oh, there was no miracle resurrection. And what were the odds of that?

So, with no other choice, he turned to the black market—hoping to use his knowledge and Zero's abilities to select a Pokémon with excellent potential and start over.

The black market was exactly what its name suggested: an underground economy operating outside League jurisdiction.

Officially, the League had strict laws forbidding the trade of Pokémon and eggs. But in reality, as long as there was profit, people would take the risk. Over time, black markets expanded, growing into well-established networks of unspoken legality. The League didn't support them, but it tolerated their existence—because for those at the bottom, they were often the only hope.

Tetsuya walked through the dimly lit stalls, his figure obscured by a black cloak, blending into the crowd of similarly veiled figures.

Stopping at a vendor selling common Pokémon eggs—Caterpie, Weedle, Pidgey—he spoke in a low voice.

"How much for a Pidgey egg?"

The vendor wasn't surprised by the slightly youthful tone. He had heard too many voices like it. Without hesitation, he replied, "250,000 Pokédollars. Standard market price."

Tetsuya wasn't surprised, nor did he suspect a scam.

The black market maintained standardized pricing for common Pokémon eggs. He had asked simply to confirm the current rates.

While Pidgey wasn't considered a strong Pokémon, it had a three-stage evolution like the regional starters. Its final evolution, Pidgeot, was both aesthetically impressive and moderately powerful.

Had Pidgey's overall potential not been so low, its eggs would have been worth far more. Only about one in a thousand Pidgeotto ever reached their final evolution, and even fewer attained real strength.

Casually, Tetsuya picked up a Pidgey egg, slipping it into his bag. Then, he handed over an anonymous savings card loaded with the necessary funds. The transaction was complete.

Tetsuya turned and walked away.

The vendor didn't care. After verifying the deposit, he simply waited for the next customer.

Though he had noticed the boy carefully inspecting all the Pidgey eggs before selecting one, he thought nothing of it. These eggs came from a wild Pidgeot-led flock that he had wiped out—there was no chance any of them were particularly special.

After all, there was no technology capable of determining a Pokémon egg's true potential. Even the most skilled appraisers could only make vague estimates based on external traits like shell integrity, feather condition, and residual energy signatures.

And this kid? Just another nobody.

He had no way of knowing that Tetsuya possessed Zero, an anomaly that didn't belong to this world.

Tetsuya's heartbeat pounded as he left the market, suppressing his excitement.

The moment he was safely inside his rented apartment, he ripped off his cloak, pulled out the egg, and practically shouted in his mind:

"Zero, open the Pokémon egg panel!"

A translucent blue panel materialized before his eyes.

His gaze locked onto one line.

[Potential: Champion]

His breath hitched. His hands trembled.

A Champion-level Pokémon.

He had never encountered a single wild Pokémon above Elite in the past two years—not even a Pseudo-King.

Yet now, against all odds, he had a Champion-tier Pokémon egg in his hands.

Originally, he had planned to spend most of his savings on something like Sandshrew—a solid choice, if he could find one with Elite potential. A Sandshrew that evolved into Sandslash would be a strong companion.

But this?

This changed everything.

The very first egg he scanned with Zero turned out to be a future powerhouse.

Tetsuya had to fight the urge to scream in triumph.

He could hardly believe his own luck.

For a moment, he even wondered if Zero was malfunctioning—because this felt too good to be true.