Chapter 4

Tetsuya was completely dumbfounded.

No, this didn't make sense. Incomplete battle items weren't that valuable. A 6% boost was hardly anything.

Flying-type items weren't even that popular. 2 million was already a generous offer, if not slightly overpaying.

Still confused, Tetsuya sent the seller a string of question marks, trying to figure out what was going on.

Before the seller could reply, the post updated.

"Sold – 28 million."

Tetsuya just stood there, staring.

Good grief.

Who the hell would spend 28 million Pokédollars on a useless item?! That wasn't treating money like money—it was treating it like loose change.

A pang of envy, frustration, and disbelief hit him all at once.

Then, the seller finally replied.

"Sorry, bro, I got too excited earlier. You're a trainer, right? For a trainer, 2 million is already a great price. But two collectors got involved and started bidding against each other… they drove it up to 28 million. Nothing I could do, man. My bad."

Tetsuya blinked. At least this guy was polite.

After reading the message, Tetsuya understood what had happened.

Pokémon collectors.

They were a unique breed—people obsessed with collecting rare Pokémon or one-of-a-kind battle items. Most of them were filthy rich, sitting at the very top of the economic food chain.

For them, money wasn't a status symbol anymore—it was about owning the rarest, most exclusive things.

Their social circles revolved around showing off their collections. The rarer the item, the more prestige they earned.

Tetsuya had underestimated just how much they were willing to spend. A defective battle item that was useless in actual combat might be a priceless gem in a collector's hands.

He let out a bitter laugh, but he wasn't too disappointed.

He had only been taking a shot in the dark anyway. It wasn't like he had lost anything.

If anything, he had saved 2 million Pokédollars—money that could now be poured into Pidgeotto's training.

Still, he made a mental note: One day, when I have that kind of money… I'll play this game too.

Though, honestly…

Wouldn't it be better to invest that kind of money into training Pokémon?

Tetsuya shook his head. Rich people's logic was beyond him.

Clearing his mind, he scrolled through the forum again.

Most of the new posts were either buying requests or arguments meant to stir up drama.

Like this one:

"Fire-type Pokémon are trash. Fight me if you disagree."

Tetsuya clicked in, already expecting the chaos.

Sure enough, the thread was filled with insults and counterattacks.

"??? Are you serious? Do you even own a Fire-type? Get lost, broke kid."

"Fire-types are weak. They can only beat Grass, Steel, Bug, and Ice. That's it. Useless."

"u1s1, but aren't Charizard and Blaziken insanely cool? Who cares about weaknesses when they look that good? (dog emoji)"

"Agree with the above. But personally, I think Ninetales is the best Fire-type. Vulpix is adorable and has a gentle personality."

"Oh, someone's rich. Vulpix is already rare, but affording a Fire Stone too? Must be nice."

As Tetsuya read on, he realized something.

The angry insults had gradually transformed into an in-depth discussion about which Fire-type Pokémon were the best for training.

Tetsuya smirked.

Classic bait post.

If someone posted "Which Fire-type Pokémon is the best for training?", the replies would be:

"None."

"Not worth it."

"Too expensive."

"Not viable in early-game."

But if they posted "Fire-types are garbage", suddenly, everyone had something to say.

Tetsuya skimmed through the arguments for a while before finally closing the forum.

Switching tabs, he checked the video section.

His Quartz Conference Finals recording had arrived, along with new uploads from several top trainers he followed.

Without hesitation, he paid for all of them and started watching.

The cost?

1,000 Pokédollars for five videos.

Not cheap, but worth every coin.

Not to mention, Tetsuya also occasionally purchased research papers written by Pokémon professors.

Those cost 5,000 Pokédollars per paper.

And unlike the battle videos, they didn't even offer refunds if the research turned out useless.

Still, Tetsuya never hesitated to pay.

These were necessary investments.

The night passed in silence.

As dawn broke, a gentle breeze swept through Viridian City, carrying the fresh scent of Viridian Forest with it.

The soft morning sunlight painted the sky, marking the start of a new day.

It was the spring-to-summer transition. The air was crisp and cool.

Tetsuya, dressed in a black sleeveless top, was in the backyard, going through his morning workout routine.

A trainer and bounty hunter needed peak physical condition to survive in life-or-death encounters.

That was a lesson Tetsuya had learned the hard way.

Sweat trickled down his sharp features and muscular frame, darkening his brown hair.

Finishing his last set of exercises, he exhaled, grabbed a towel, and wiped his face.

Then, he released Pidgeotto.

"Pidgeotto, stretch your wings and move around a bit. If you're hungry, grab some fruit. I'm going to shower."

"Pi~"

With a flap of its wings, Pidgeotto soared into the sky.

Tetsuya headed inside for a quick shower.

After drying his hair, he walked back out.

Clad in only light blue casual shorts, his well-toned physique reflected the results of years of training.

After slipping on a sweatshirt, he stepped outside.

Pidgeotto had already returned, perched atop a fruit tree.

"Bi~"

It greeted him with a flap of its wings.

"Morning," Tetsuya smiled. "Let's start today's training."

Pidgeotto stretched its wings, ready to go.

"Alright, first up—warm-up flight. Same distance as usual—120 miles. Meet me at the usual spot."

He pulled out the weight-training gear and secured it onto Pidgeotto.

Without hesitation, Pidgeotto took off.

Tetsuya stretched and began jogging behind.

120 miles was nothing for Tetsuya's Pidgeotto.

Even a wild Pidgeotto's territory spanned about 60 miles.

Right now, his Pidgeotto could finish the weighted flight in 25 minutes.

Without weights? 15 minutes flat.

A fully evolved Pidgeot could hit speeds approaching Mach 2.

Tetsuya was eager to see how fast his Pidgeot would be once it evolved.

By the time he reached the training grounds, Pidgeotto was already waiting.

"Alright, warm-up's done. Let's move on to agility training."

Tetsuya removed the weights.

"Same drill—high-speed maneuvering through the trees."

With sharp focus, Pidgeotto dove into the dense forest.

Tetsuya pulled out his PokéCom, analyzing its flight patterns and reaction times.

Another day of relentless training had begun.

In less than two weeks, Tetsuya had spent 500,000 Pokédollars.

Every last bit of his extra income was gone. It was the first time he had ever spent so much money in one go.

But the results spoke for themselves.

With that investment, Pidgeotto had skyrocketed to level 36—more than twice as fast as before.

Tetsuya had a feeling.

Evolution was close.

However, as he stared at the data on his PokéCom—cross-referencing it with Zero's training projections—it became clear that Pidgeotto's progress had stalled.

Something was missing.

Evolution was a mystical process. No one truly understood the exact conditions required for a Pokémon to evolve.

It could be a lack of energy. It could be a need for a greater challenge. It could even be something as abstract as the Pokémon's own will.

Either way, forcing it wouldn't work.

For now, Tetsuya stayed patient. He would earn more money, keep training, and wait for the right moment.

Even with Pidgeotto's superior genetics, even with Tetsuya's investment, evolution wasn't guaranteed. There were countless Pidgeottos in the world that never reached their final form.

Rushing things wouldn't change that.

Besides, every trainer's advice—every book and forum discussion—all pointed to the same conclusion:

Let nature take its course.

Some Pokémon evolved while eating. Some evolved naturally during training. Some only evolved after grueling battles.

No two evolutions were the same.

But Tetsuya wasn't worried.

He was confident in himself. He was confident in Pidgeotto.

Unlike the trainers who spent months or even years struggling to trigger an evolution, his investment and training regimen guaranteed results.

It was only a matter of time.

After taking Pidgeotto to the Pokémon Center for healing, Tetsuya grabbed lunch for both himself and his Pokémon.

Once they had eaten, he recalled Pidgeotto into its Poké Ball and started walking toward the Bounty Hunter Center.

Time to make some money.

Inside the mission hall, Tetsuya inserted his ID card into the machine and began browsing the available jobs.

Mission Listings

B-Rank: Freshly shed Arbok skin (must be less than a week old). Reward: 250,000 – 400,000 Pokédollars (Quality assessed by specialist). [Ongoing Collection]

B-Rank: 50+ Beedrill stingers. Reward: 2,100 Pokédollars per stinger. [Ongoing Collection]

C-Rank: 300ml of Vileplume saliva. Reward: 35,000 Pokédollars. [Ongoing Collection]

C-Rank: Defend suburban farms from Pokémon attacks (at least three days). Reward: 10,000 Pokédollars/day. [Ongoing]

C-Rank: 100g of Red Heart Grass. Reward: 40,000 Pokédollars. [Expires in 1 day]

C-Rank: Clear Caterpie infestation near Viridian Forest's main road (strongest Pokémon is a high-level Butterfree). Reward: 70,000 Pokédollars. [Expires in 11 hours]

Most long-term missions weren't worth the effort. Too much time, not enough profit.

The Arbok shed skin job was tempting, but Tetsuya knew he couldn't take down an Arbok.

Instead, he focused on the two time-sensitive missions.

After thinking it over, he chose the Caterpie extermination task.

A cluster of Bug-types?

Perfect for Pidgeotto.

The farm defense mission was easy, but too slow.

Tetsuya also wanted to gauge Pidgeotto's progress in a real battle. Simulated fights with trainers were useful, but nothing compared to wild combat.

Unfortunately, bounty hunters could only accept one quest at their rank level at a time.

You could accept up to three lower-level quests, but never two of the same level.

This rule was meant to prevent one person from hoarding all the work.

And no—he couldn't cheat the system by collecting mission items before accepting the quest and then turning them in later.

Other hunters weren't stupid.

Gathering quests were always in demand. By the time Tetsuya finished his mission and came back, the Red Heart Grass quest would be gone.

After accepting the mission, Tetsuya pulled out his ID card and exited the hall.

He already had all the necessary supplies from his morning training. No need to restock.

As he walked, his PokéWatch beeped—the mission target's location had been uploaded to his personal map.

Time to work.

Following the road, Tetsuya quickly reached the Caterpie colony's location.

He hid behind a tree, observing.

Above him, several Butterfree flitted about, collecting nectar.

"They must have just migrated here," Tetsuya muttered. "This spot is way too close to the road. If left alone, they'll start attacking travelers."

Don't let Butterfree's gentle appearance fool you.

Its wings were coated in poisonous scales that repelled water. When agitated, it could spread these toxins through the air, causing severe breathing issues, drowsiness, or paralysis.

For humans?

That was life-threatening.

Tetsuya released Pidgeotto, signaling with a hand gesture.

Understanding immediately, Pidgeotto took to the skies, circling above.

Tetsuya used Zero to scan the entire swarm.

Three Butterfree were exactly as the mission had stated—peak-level regular Butterfree.

But then, Tetsuya's expression darkened.

Zero had detected something unexpected.

One of the Butterfree wasn't regular.

It was Elite-level.

Tetsuya hesitated.

If it had just been four high-level regular Butterfree, Pidgeotto could have handled them—even with twenty weak Caterpie and Metapod interfering.

But an Elite-level Butterfree?

That was a problem.

Pidgeotto had improved—but an Elite-level opponent was a serious threat.

Tetsuya debated backing out.

At worst, he'd be locked out of missions for three days.

But then he reconsidered.

A wild Elite Butterfree was extremely rare.

If he captured it, he could sell it for 1 million Pokédollars on the black market.

And if it had Telekinesis?

2 million.

Tetsuya gritted his teeth.

Screw it. We're doing this.

Slowly, he and Pidgeotto moved into position.

The Butterfree had no idea they were being hunted.

As expected, the group was splitting up—two Butterfree fluttering off to collect nectar separately.

This was his chance.

Tetsuya silently gave the command.

Pidgeotto struck.

In a blur, it dove at the two isolated Butterfree, slamming into them with a high-speed Quick Attack.

Before they could react, Pidgeotto's wings glowed white—

Wing Attack.

A single, precise strike sent both Butterfree crashing into the ground.

"Finish them," Tetsuya ordered.

Pidgeotto obeyed.