Chapter 7

The black market staff took the savings card, inserted it into the verification device, and then returned it to Tetsuya after confirming the balance.

Tetsuya took it back and stepped through the doors of the black market store.

What greeted him was a hall paved with white tiles, leading to a series of large doors, each marked with a different elemental symbol.

As soon as he entered, a female attendant in a revealing uniform approached with a professional smile.

"Hello, how may I assist you?"

Tetsuya glanced at her, his 30-plus years of virginity stirring for a brief moment—only to be quickly suppressed.

After all, women would only slow down his Poké Ball throwing speed.

A deep voice came from under his black robe. "Where are the Elekid and Torchic eggs? Take me to them."

The waitress bent slightly, giving a generous view of her assets, and gestured for him to follow.

"The Torchic eggs are currently being inspected by another customer. Why don't we start with the Elekid eggs?"

Tetsuya nodded slightly and motioned for her to lead the way.

She took him through the door marked with a lightning bolt. Inside, the room was divided into smaller chambers, each labeled with the name of a different Electric-type Pokémon.

Soon, they reached the Elekid egg room, and the attendant used her access card to unlock the door.

Three large shelves stood inside, filled with Elekid eggs. However, the deeper the shelves went, the more sparsely the eggs were arranged.

"These three shelves correspond to different price tiers," the attendant explained smoothly, noticing that Tetsuya was paying attention.

"For Elekid eggs, the prices are 12 million, 15 million, and 18 million, respectively. The pricing is based on evaluations conducted by our black market appraisers, who assess the potential of the Pokémon inside. The better the potential, the higher the price.

"The evaluation considers the strength of the parent Pokémon and the overall condition of the egg. However, we can only guarantee that all of these Pokémon will have at least elite-level potential.

"There have been cases where a customer paid for the most expensive egg, only for the hatched Pokémon to cap at elite level. Likewise, some buyers have taken a chance on the lowest-tier eggs and ended up with a Pokémon capable of reaching King-level strength.

"So, while we provide guidance, the final choice is yours. Please be careful not to damage the eggs while inspecting them."

With that, the attendant stepped aside, allowing Tetsuya to examine the eggs at his own pace.

Trainers had all sorts of methods for choosing Pokémon eggs. Some picked based on instinct, others looked for specific patterns, and some even relied on rituals or gut feelings. The black market staff had learned to stay silent unless asked for input—interrupting could cost them a complaint and a paycheck deduction.

Ignoring the attendant, Tetsuya discreetly activated Zero, his scanning tool, and started inspecting the first shelf.

Elite, elite, elite. Everywhere he looked, the results were the same.

He sighed. "You get what you pay for" was proving to be an undeniable truth.

Outside in the stalls, Elekid eggs were priced at around 10 million, significantly lower. But the availability was scarce, and the quality inconsistent. Here, at least, the potential was guaranteed.

After quickly scanning the first shelf and finding only two or three borderline high-potential eggs, he moved on to the second.

The results were noticeably better. The proportion of eggs with at least quasi-King potential had jumped from 20% to 50%, though there were only about a dozen in total.

Still, there wasn't a single egg with King-level potential, which was what he wanted.

Then, he reached the third shelf. There were only five eggs displayed here.

Tetsuya's heart leapt. His luck was holding out. Among the five eggs, one was elite, three were quasi-King, and the last one—

King-level potential.

He smirked, imagining the unlucky buyer who would spend the most and end up with the elite-level one.

Tetsuya motioned to the attendant and pointed at the King-level Elekid egg. "Mark this one for me. Now take me to see the Torchic eggs."

The attendant pulled out a tablet, recorded the selection, and after confirming through her earpiece that the Torchic room was unoccupied, led Tetsuya through another door.

"The prices for Torchic eggs are 22 million, 25 million, and 30 million," she explained.

As expected, Torchic eggs were more volatile in price. Unlike Elekid, high-quality Torchic were in greater demand, making them more expensive.

Tetsuya wasted no time scanning the first and second shelves. No surprises. Just as expected.

The League's qualification appraisers might not be as precise as Zero, but their judgments weren't far off. They could still make solid estimations based on observable factors.

Then, he reached the third shelf.

There were twelve Torchic eggs—more than twice the number of Elekid eggs on the highest tier.

Tetsuya took a deep breath and offered a silent prayer. Or rather, a wish—to Jirachi.

A King-level Elekid was already in the bag, but if he could find an even better Torchic, that would be a true jackpot.

He started scanning.

Quasi-King. Quasi-King. Quasi-King. King. Quasi-King. Quasi-King…

By the tenth egg, he sighed. Two King-level Torchic so far. Exactly on par with the Elekid odds. No elites, at least.

Then, he scanned the eleventh egg.

His eyes widened under the black robe. His fists clenched involuntarily.

He forced himself to look at the twelfth egg—quasi-King, nothing special.

Tetsuya pointed at the eleventh egg. "That one. I'll take it."

The attendant thought his voice sounded slightly different but didn't question it.

She radioed her colleague, who arrived with a specialized containment device for Pokémon eggs. Tetsuya watched carefully as the egg was carefully secured, then handed over two anonymous savings cards—one with 10 million and the other with 20 million.

After a quick verification, the attendant's polite smile turned into a genuine one. A big sale meant a big commission.

She signaled for the male staffer to place the egg in Tetsuya's space backpack and escorted him to the exit.

As she happily returned to her team, now 50,000 League Credits richer, Tetsuya walked briskly out of the black market, ducked into a side alley, and removed his black robe, stuffing it into his backpack.

Once he was sure he wasn't being followed, he sprinted home.

—

"Bang!"

The moment he shut his door, he slapped himself.

"Hiss—damn, that hurts."

Breathing heavily, he carefully removed the Torchic egg and activated Zero again.

There it was. Championship-level potential.

Tetsuya spun in place before launching himself into a celebratory Armstrong-style cannon jump.

For half an hour, he ran around his living room like an overexcited Herdier before finally calming down.

This was just the beginning.

Tetsuya kept scrolling through his schedule, and after confirming that there were no problems, he began to enjoy his lunch.

Then let's go shopping this afternoon, Tetsuya decided with ease.

After quickly finishing his lunch, Tetsuya put the Torchic egg into his backpack.

After picking up Pidgeot, who was basking in the sun in the backyard, he headed straight for the Alliance Mall.

—

At dusk.

The city of Viridian and Viridian Forest were gradually coated with a golden hue by the afterglow of the setting sun.

After spending the entire afternoon shopping at the Alliance Mall and the Trading Center, Tetsuya returned home with a lot of gains but an exhausted body.

Of course, my wallet has also taken a serious hit.

Even though he was prepared to spend money, he still felt an ache in his heart after watching his funds drain away with every swipe of his card.

Tetsuya collapsed onto the sofa at home, feeling more drained than after an intense battle.

After struggling to prepare dinner for Pidgeot and himself, he began to count the items he had purchased.

First of all, he bought six Luxury Balls produced by the Silph Company to provide a good environment for Pidgeot, while also preparing for his future team.

In addition to basic fireproof, drop-proof, waterproof, and electricity-proof features, the paint would never chip.

Compared to ordinary Poké Balls, the Luxury Ball produced by Silph had an internal space akin to the difference between a mansion and a wooden house. It also had the function of automatically simulating an environment suitable for the Pokémon inside.

Moreover, the Luxury Ball could be linked to a trainer's Pokémon Watch, allowing real-time monitoring of the Pokémon's physical condition.

As for concerns about data leakage, Tetsuya figured it was inevitable. This kind of monitoring was relatively low-level and prone to fluctuations, so there wasn't much to worry about.

Besides, Silph had never hidden this fact, and trainers were all aware of it. The company's credibility reassured most people, and their products were simply too good to pass up.

Tetsuya also bought other items from Silph and updated his equipment.

For example, he got a matching Pokémon Watch, a space backpack, and a tent. Each item was far superior to what he had before.

His space backpack's capacity had increased from 10 cubic meters to 50 cubic meters.

There were also simple linkage functions between various devices—for instance, the watch could control the settings inside the tent.

Just for these, Tetsuya spent 1.5 million at Silph. Thankfully, his previous equipment was also from Silph, so he could trade it in for a discount and save some Alliance Coins.

Next, he visited the Devon Corporation store, where he spent 500,000 on the latest navigator and drone, and another 1,000,000 on two high-tech outdoor adventure suits, complete with temperature control, environmental detection, GPS, and adaptive material technology.

He also purchased a full set of training equipment for Torchic, costing another 1.5 million. Additionally, he bought new weight-training gear for Pidgeot, trading in the old set for a new one at the cost of 300,000.

In total, Tetsuya had already spent 4.8 million Alliance Coins—and that was just for equipment.

Now came the real expense.

Tetsuya bought a specialized nutritional supplement for Torchic from Celadon City. It was designed to enhance the physical fitness and overall attributes of young Pokémon within a limited range.

Essentially, if a Pokémon was fed these supplements until it matured, it would be noticeably stronger than one that didn't receive them.

A full set of nutritional potions included seven different types—covering health, stamina, special attack, special defense, physical attack, physical defense, and speed. Each bottle contained 10ml, and Torchic needed three sets per day.

Since the larval stage lasted about 20 days, that meant 60 sets in total.

As for the price? Ha. Tetsuya could only laugh bitterly.

Each set cost 50,000. Sixty sets? That was 3 million. No discounts. No negotiations.

Young Pokémon also needed vitamin supplements, and the store clerk had kindly prepared a scientific blend.

A specialized multivitamin formula, two pills a day, totaling 40 pills—enough until Torchic left the larval stage. Not too bad, only 200,000.

Tetsuya paid, holding back tears.

And it didn't stop there.

Zero had provided a detailed training plan, requiring an additional 600,000 in medicinal herbs, 1.4 million in various Berries, and 1 million for additional Pokémon materials from the Trading Center.

Another 6.2 million spent on Torchic alone. Luckily, this covered more than just its larval phase—Tetsuya estimated that another 1.8 million would be enough to push it straight to the elite level.

Otherwise, if he had to spend this much just for the early stages, he would've gone broke.

There was also Pokémon food for both Pidgeot and Torchic costing 600,000.

Since he was financially stable now, Tetsuya didn't want his Pokémon eating low-quality food anymore. He upgraded from solid granular food to Energy Cubes, buying over a month's supply.

Expensive? Yes. But the nutritional value was far superior.

If only he knew how to make Energy Cubes himself—then he could just process Berries at home.

Next came Pidgeot's training. Since Tetsuya planned to focus entirely on Torchic's growth before taking on any new missions, Pidgeot still needed rigorous training. He spent another 1.7 million on training materials.

After tallying everything, he realized this shopping trip had cost him over 13 million.

Looking at the balance on his card, Tetsuya smiled bitterly.

This morning, he had nearly 50 million. By evening—just 12 hours later—he had around 6 million left.

A 90% loss.

But these were necessary investments.

It wasn't impossible to raise Torchic without them, but progress would have been significantly slower. Pidgeot was proof of that.

If Tetsuya had been able to afford this kind of training when Pidgeot was still a Pidgey, it likely would've reached its current strength in half the time.

Still, compared to other civilian trainers, his progress was already remarkable.

After all, he had the advantage of being a time traveler with a golden finger. He had been lucky enough to find two high-quality Pokémon eggs and a high-grade Fire Stone. Plus, his photographic memory helped him learn at an astonishing rate.

If that wasn't outstanding, then only the true monsters of the world could be considered exceptional.

Originally, Tetsuya had aimed to become a top-tier trainer by his 30s, gradually strengthening himself until reaching champion level in his 40s, which would already be considered a great success.

The class divide in this world was too severe.

Even with his talents, he couldn't just rocket to the top overnight. He was still an orphan with no family backing.

But looking at his current progress, his goals might be achieved much sooner than expected.

That came with its own risks.

If his progress had been merely outstanding, it wouldn't have drawn too much attention. But if it became monstrous—if people saw his rapid rise as unnatural—he'd have to be much more careful in choosing allies.

Most powerful factions wanted prodigies on their side. If they couldn't recruit them, they might choose to eliminate them instead.

For now, Tetsuya had to be cautious.