The History of This World  

Since Ryuuske had awakened, the Team Rocket operatives had paid him no attention. Perhaps they considered the Mewtwo Project complete and him—the test subject—utterly useless now. 

As long as they could implant enough preconceptions into Mewtwo's consciousness before its emergence from the containment unit, Team Rocket would perfectly control this ultimate human-made weapon. 

But life rarely went as planned. 

The researchers never imagined their meticulously designed project would develop such a catastrophic flaw—or that they had gravely underestimated the power of their own creation. 

From his conversations with Professor Oak and Blaine, Ryuuske had learned how Oak ended up here. Unlike Blaine, who had willingly joined out of ambition, Oak—as a leading Pokémon expert—had been approached by Team Rocket operatives posing as legitimate scholars. Unaware of their true affiliation, he had enthusiastically answered all their questions. 

Recognizing his value, Team Rocket had kidnapped him. But Oak refused to cooperate, even under threat of death. His fame made his disappearance problematic, and with the Mewtwo Project nearing completion, his usefulness had waned. So, they confined him with Ryuuske, planning to dispose of both once Mewtwo was operational. 

"Ryuuske, how's your recovery coming? Here's today's lunch—eat up." 

Standing before a mirror studying his new body, Ryuuske heard Oak's cheerful voice behind him. A faint smile touched his lips. He genuinely liked the optimistic, kind-hearted professor—the man who had refused to give up on him even when death seemed certain. That stubborn hope had birthed this "miracle." 

"Much better. I've regained some strength—I could probably run if needed." 

"Good! A man needs his meals. Say what you will about Team Rocket, but their food isn't half bad." 

Oak set two trays on the table. The well-funded facility didn't skimp on meals, even for prisoners. Ryuuske was grateful—having come from a world where food was plentiful, he had no desire to endure starvation here. 

"So, Ryuuske… any progress?" 

"Going smoothly enough." 

As they ate, Oak's question carried hidden meaning. 

After learning Ryuuske could mentally communicate with Mewtwo, Oak had urged him to guide its consciousness—to ensure it understood Team Rocket's intentions and wouldn't become their weapon. More crucially, they needed this newborn entity not to develop hatred toward humanity. 

"And your side, Professor?" 

"Also… progressing." 

Their coded exchange avoided explicit details, wary of surveillance. Days earlier, Oak and Blaine had devised an escape plan. But without Pokémon, breaking out was nearly impossible. 

As the Cinnabar Gym Leader, Blaine had never earned Team Rocket's full trust. His Poké Balls were confiscated during research sessions, and the hundreds of elite operatives stationed here primarily existed to monitor him. The other researchers posed no threat—but a Gym Leader? That demanded caution. 

Recently, with the Mewtwo Project nearing completion, oversight had loosened. Blaine had managed brief access to his Poké Balls, making escape feasible. But with Ryuuske still weak, they agreed to wait until he regained enough strength for strenuous activity. 

These past few days, Ryuuske had focused on recovery—eating, light exercise, and reading. The books here covered basic subjects, but he gravitated toward history. To understand this world, its past was the fastest gateway. And when he encountered discrepancies or gaps, Oak—ever the expert—filled them in. 

"Professor, I've been reading history, but the records are incomplete. One thing puzzles me: our calendar marks this year as 2010. But what event established this dating system?" 

Ryuuske found the parallel eerie. This world's calendar almost mirrored his own. Stranger still, he had transmigrated from 2018—a mere eight-year difference. That gap felt significant, as if hiding the key to his crossing. 

In his world, the Gregorian calendar began with Christ's birth. Here, what was the reference point? 

"Our dating system traces back to a legal code two millennia ago," Oak explained. "A nation in the Kanto region enacted the first laws recognizing both humans and Pokémon. twenty hundred years ago, scholars designated that year as 'Year 1,' and the system endured." 

"'Our current civilization'? So there were earlier human societies?" 

Ryuuske set down his fork, intrigued. This Pokémon world was far removed from the sanitized anime he remembered. As a functioning reality, its history had to hold deeper logic. 

"Excavated ruins confirm multiple advanced ancient civilizations predating ours by at least two thousand years," Oak said, eyes alight with scholarly passion. "Some lacked our social structures, but their technology surpassed ours in areas. Much of our modern tech stems from adapting their rediscovered knowledge. For instance, the lost civilization of Portlantis could seal human souls in Poké Balls—though those techniques are lost now." 

"If ancient civilizations were so advanced, what caused their collapse? Do researchers have theories?" 

Ryuuske leaned forward. History had always thrilled him—uncovering a world's past was like intellectual euphoria. 

Oak's expression sobered. After a long pause, he sighed. 

"...This ties to events seventy years ago. Most historical texts gloss over it, but since you asked—and as a scholar myself—I believe you deserve the truth." 

He lowered his voice. 

"Seventy years ago, our civilization was still relatively primitive. Theories about the ancient collapses varied wildly. But what happened then made scholars conclude: those civilizations were annihilated by Legendary Pokémon leading armies of ordinary Pokémon." 

Ryuuske straightened. This was the real history—the logical underpinnings no game or anime would ever explore. 

"Seventy years ago, human technology underwent a revolution. Two millennia of accumulated knowledge, combined with newly unearthed ruins, nearly propelled us down a catastrophic path. Industries ravaged natural resources—mountains hollowed, forests razed, underground reserves exhausted. Factories spewed pollution, pushing ecosystems to collapse. Pokémon lost habitats en masse, dying by the millions to human greed." 

Oak's hands clenched. 

"With their new weapons, humans grew arrogant. They believed they no longer needed Pokémon as partners—only as slaves. Society saw nothing wrong with this… until the Legendaries appeared." 

His voice turned grave. 

"These beings—once mere myths with sporadic sightings—emerged as walking cataclysms. They manipulated time, split space, resurrected the dead. Human weapons proved futile against them. And under their command, displaced Pokémon armies turned on humanity." 

"A few Legendaries might have been manageable. Powerful trainers could match them. But all of them united? Even the strongest trainers faltered. Worse, most Pokémon betrayed their trainers, sparking a near-total war between species. Humanity faced extinction." 

He exhaled shakily. 

"Only then did we understand everything. Visionaries dismantled the polluting industries, striving for balance between progress and nature. Their efforts brokered peace with Pokémon, saving our civilization. These pioneers formed the first Pokémon League, establishing Gyms and the Elite Four system." 

"Paradoxically, that war birthed modern technology—our cities, infrastructure, even Poké Balls emerged from its crucible. We now believe Legendaries embody the planet's will. Ancient civilizations likely fell similarly—their technologies destabilizing nature beyond recovery. Unlike them, our societal structures allowed redemption." 

Ryuuske fell silent, absorbing this brutal history. Seventy years ago here aligned roughly with World War II in his world. Both conflicts had spurred technological leaps, but where his world pitted humans against humans, this one had been humanity versus Pokémon. The parallel felt too precise—as if history here mirrored his own, reshaped through a different lens. 

"History teaches us not to repeat mistakes," Oak said, mistaking Ryuuske's silence for shock. "As for Pokémon history? That's far older—a subject researchers still debate. To uncover it fully, one might need to consult the creator deity itself." He chuckled, patting Ryuuske's shoulder. "But that's a distant concern. For now, let's focus on our immediate plans." 

"The creator deity…" 

Ryuuske murmured the words. Perhaps all his questions—the reason for his transmigration, the nature of this world—could indeed be answered by Arceus. But meeting it, let alone extracting truths, would require becoming the strongest. 

An inexplicable urgency gnawed at him. He had to uncover these mysteries—or regret it eternally. 

But first, he had to survive. 

Right now, he wasn't even a trainer—just a lab rat without a single Pokémon. His priority? 

Escape. 

Or risk becoming the most pathetic transmigrator in history. 

To be continued…