I took a step toward the road. And then another. I turned one last time to see them, standing under that makeshift sign, still waving vigorously.
"Thank you… for everything," I murmured, although I didn't know if they heard me.
And so, with a heavy but firm heart, I crossed to the other side of the road. I left Pewter City behind, carrying in my backpack more than just objects: I carried promises, memories... and love.
The first step toward Route 3 was the hardest. The second, a little easier. The third, already part of the journey.
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Author's Notes: If you want to support the story and read some advance chapters https://www.p@treon. com/Jayjayempi , it would also help me a lot if you have comments on how the story is going or if you would be so kind as to leave a review, Thank you very much for reading!
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Route 3 is dry, dusty, and treacherous. Since I left Pewter City, the landscape has changed more than I expected. Low hills that seem harmless until you realize their loose stones can knock you off balance with a single step. Bushes that rustle even when there's no wind, generating that kind of uncomfortable noise that makes you turn around with your heart in your throat. The path isn't difficult in the technical sense, but it does demand constant attention. It's not a place where you can let your guard down. On these types of routes, danger doesn't always announce itself with shouts. Sometimes it arrives silently, hidden in the everyday.
I made a decision from the start: Ralts would handle all the battles. Not because I doubt Nidorino, never. But I need to have at least one Pokémon fresh, rested, ready to fight if things get out of hand. It's not paranoia, it's logic. The kind of logic you learn when you've seen enough situations go wrong suddenly. If my entire team is exhausted and something attacks us, if a trainer with dubious intentions appears, or if I simply make a mistake… it's over. I can't afford to play it cool with my safety. That's why today, Ralts fights alone.
She doesn't complain. She never does. But I watch her. I can read her small gestures, the timing of her movements, the slightly faster breathing after each fight. She's reaching her limits. And yet, she gives it her all. In the first fight of the day, a young man challenged me without thinking. A blind confidence that you only see in inexperienced trainers. Ralts appeared elegantly, like a sigh, and within seconds had already formed a halo of psychic energy around herself. The opponent didn't understand what happened until she was already on the ground. Confusion. Double-team. Silence. So clean, so surgical.
Next came a girl who used two Pokémon. It was a little more complicated, but no more dangerous. Ralts flowed through moves as if she knew exactly what her opponent would do before they even thought about doing it. We don't fight with brute force. We fight with intention. Every step Ralts takes has a purpose. Every attack she throws is a precision decision. We're not the strongest, but we are the most careful. And that's worth more than it seems.
When it was all over, I looked for a shady spot to take a break. The sun was already starting to get intense, and I didn't want any of my Pokémon to get overheated. I found a group of large rocks that offered partial shelter. I set up the small portable stove and started preparing food. It wasn't complicated: I mixed Pokémon food with precooked rice, some chopped berries, and a bit of powdered seasoning that enhances the flavor without altering the nutrients. It's not gourmet food, but it does the job. It's efficient. It provides energy, restores just enough, and doesn't leave you feeling heavy. Just enough to keep moving forward without falling behind.
Nidorino sat nearby while I cooked. He said nothing, but his silence carried a different weight. He's starting to understand me. Not just as his trainer, but as someone with a plan. He's naturally adopted the role of bodyguard. He's the Pokémon I trust most when it comes to my personal safety. I don't need to tell him; he knows. He feels it. His gaze doesn't flicker, his ears twitch at the slightest sound. Always attentive. Always ready. Ralts, on the other hand, ate in silence, as always. Without haste, without distractions. His gaze was lost in the dim fire of the stove, as if he knew this wasn't a break. That this was merely a truce between conflicts.
As we got back on track, I took the opportunity to talk to some travelers. I didn't name names, but I asked careful questions. I asked them if they'd seen a young man with a red cap, a determined look, the kind of presence you don't easily forget. Or someone charismatic, confident, maybe a little arrogant. Some said yes, that they'd seen trainers like that passing by a couple of days ago. Others shook their heads. No concrete clues, but enough to make me feel like I'm not that far off. If their names are already being called along these roads, it's because I'm headed in the right direction.
But there's a problem. The margin. I have almost none. Two Pokémon is very few, especially if only one is active. Ralts is doing the work of an entire team. If it gets hurt or falls in battle, I'll be relying on a single card. I can't afford that luxury. I need a third member. Not on a whim. Not to fill space. I need it because the strategy demands it. One fights, another rests, and the third protects. Then rotation. It's balance. Without that, any surprise can be the end. Luckily, I have some financial leeway for the moment. I can afford to feed and maintain a larger team. The important thing is to find someone who fits. Who brings something different. Who doesn't rely on the same tactics. I don't know what I'm looking for yet... but I'll know when I see it.
It took me only a few hours to leave Route 3 behind. The struggles were few, and none long enough to slow me down. The terrain helped: uneven, yes, but navigable. The real wear and tear came not from the challenges, but from the heat, the dust, and that constant feeling that something could go wrong at any moment. And yet, I didn't stop.
As soon as I set foot on Route 4, the change was evident. The air was different. The hills became steeper, more aggressive, and on the horizon, like a figure silently watching, rose Mt. Moon. I didn't need a sign to know this. I recognized it from the descriptions, yes, but also from the invisible weight that seemed to be pushing me down. It was as if the world knew I was about to cross a threshold.
The path here was clearer, more traveled. I met several travelers; some were coming down from Mt. Moon, with dirty backpacks, battered clothes, and that expression that was a mixture of relief and warning. I sat with some of them to share water, some food, and a few stories. I didn't share much, but I listened to as much as I could.
"Mt. Moon is no picnic," one told me. "There's Zubat everywhere, and not all the trainers who come in do so for sport."
Another spoke of strange people. Dressed in black. Silent. Moving as if searching for something. I didn't ask any more. I already knew enough.
As the sun began to set behind the mountains, I knew I wouldn't get far before darkness forced me to stop. I had no choice but to camp. I found a small rise with good visibility and set up my makeshift tent. It was just a tightly secured tarp and a thin mat, but it was enough to pretend I had shelter.
And that's when I knew for sure: I hate camping.
It's not just the hard ground, or the cold that seeps between layers of clothing when night falls. It's the vulnerability. Turning a piece of land into your temporary home. Coming from a world where the norm is being sedentary, having a roof, hot water, and a bed, ruins you for this. I'm not made to sleep on rocks, or to use my backpack as a pillow. And yet, I had to do it.
I prepared a light dinner for the three of us. Ralts ate in silence, visibly exhausted but serene. Nidorino didn't leave a single crumb, as always. He doesn't complain. He settles down anywhere, closes his eyes, and falls asleep. As if he could endure anything. I can't.
The night was long. The wind carried sounds I couldn't identify. Branches rustling, leaves crunching, distant shrieks. I tried to sleep, but my body wouldn't relax. And when tiredness finally overcame me, it happened.
A loud thud on the canvas. A high-pitched screech. I woke with a start and saw a shadow moving right above me. A Spearow. It had swooped down, probably looking for food… or thinking I was food. I dove to the side, screamed, and within seconds Nidorino was on top of things. He shook off sleep as if he'd never closed his eyes, and with a single movement, he scared the bird away, which screeched one last time before disappearing into the darkness.
It wasn't a great Pokémon. It wasn't a serious threat. But it was enough to drive home the reality: this isn't a game. There's no battle music or safety screens. Here, if you let your guard down, you can get hurt. Or worse. I spent the rest of the night with my eyes open, my body tense, my mind on alert.
The Pokémon experience, in a real world, isn't a romantic adventure. It's not a series of epic victories and instant friendships. It's raw. It's unpredictable. It's dangerous.
And if I want to survive… I have to live up to it.
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I woke up feeling as if I hadn't slept a single minute. My muscles were numb, my eyes heavy, and my mind was still trapped in that thick fog that remains when you don't get enough rest. My body felt like stone, every joint aching when I moved, my back marked by the contours of the ground. I blinked several times before I managed to focus on the sky. It was gray. The kind of gray that doesn't predict a storm, but also doesn't promise a good day.
Ralts was the first to approach. She walked with tiny, soft steps, as if she knew any more noise could break me. She sat beside me silently, but her energy was warm. Soothing. Like an emotional blanket someone puts over you without asking. Nidorino came next, more abruptly, but no less attentive. He lay down beside me, resting his head on my thigh with a comforting weight. He said nothing, but their presence spoke for him. They were there. Watching me. Keeping me company. Watching me, even when I was the one who should be watching over them.
I didn't say anything for several minutes. I just breathed, counted my heartbeats, and calmed the trembling in my hands. Last night had affected me more than I wanted to admit. A Spearow. A damn Spearow. It wasn't the attack that left me like this, but what it represented: fragility. The very real possibility that something could go wrong. That no one would come to help me. That I would be alone with two Pokémon and no room for error.
Eventually, I forced myself to stand up. My body protested, of course. But I had no choice. I couldn't just lie there, as if the world was going to stop for me.
Mt. Moon lay before me. Imposing. A mass of gray and blue stone that seemed to grow with every step I took toward it. It was time to decide: enter through the caverns, as the more experienced travelers advised, or climb from the outside?
I knew that inside the mountains, the Pokémon would be weaker. Zubat, Geodude, maybe a Clefairy if I was lucky. There were also minerals, evolutionary stones hidden among the rocks, and with a bit of luck, even fossils. It was a hostile environment, yes, but manageable. What really complicated the decision wasn't the wild Pokémon... but what the other trainers had told me.
Team Rocket. That name was repeated too often to ignore.
I didn't know much about them, beyond what was whispered in nervous conversations. People dressed in black. Serious. Searching for something. Sometimes aggressive. Sometimes simply... present. No one stopped to explain further. No one said exactly what they were doing or what they wanted. Only that they were there. Like a rumor turned into a warning.
The other option was to climb. To go around the mountain. To climb on the outside. Slower, more physically exhausting. But without Rockets. According to the travelers, very few people dared to climb the peak, and those who did did so out of extreme training. The problem was that up there… the Pokémon were strong. Very strong. They didn't know exactly which ones, but they described them as "aggressive, territorial, large." Nothing they wanted to face with an exhausted Ralts and a Nidorino without backup.
I weighed the options carefully. I assessed the risks, the benefits, the condition of my team. Climbing meant avoiding the human problem, yes. But at what cost? I could run into a wild Onix or an evolved Golbat without warning. A miscalculated fall. An ambush by alpha Pokémon. No cover. No quick escape.
Entering the caverns wasn't any less dangerous, but at least it was terrain I could better control. And if the rumors were true… there was valuable loot waiting for me in there. Evolutionary stones. Fossils. Resources that could make a real difference in my journey. Besides, if Team Rocket was there, seeing them up close wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I could observe. Evaluate. Decide based on facts, not rumors. I wasn't going to let fear dictate my path.
So I decided to enter through the mouth of the mountain.
I walked to the entrance with a firm step, although doubts continued to whisper inside. I expected to find a makeshift Pokémon Center, some kind of resting place like the ones the games used to promise. But there was nothing. Just rocks. Silence. And a dark crevice that seemed to swallow the light.
It was then that I saw him,I almost walked past it.
The tower wasn't right at the entrance to Mt. Moon, but a little further back, as if its purpose was to operate discreetly without attracting attention. If it weren't for the metal antenna sticking out above some trees, I would have ignored it completely. I approached cautiously, not out of fear, but because in this world, anything you don't know could be a threat... or a lifeline.
About twenty meters away, a man emerged from one of the tower's side doors. He wore a dark green uniform with orange trim and a cap with the Kanto Rangers emblem embroidered on the front. In his right hand, he held a steaming cup, probably coffee. In his left, a Poké Ball hung from his belt, ready for anything.
He saw me approaching and raised his hand in a slow, friendly gesture.
"Good morning!" he said, his voice brisk and his voice contrasting with the tiredness I felt. "Trainer?"
I nodded, not having much strength to speak.
"Are you going to Mt. Moon?"
"Yes," I replied, after a moment.
The ranger nodded slowly, as if he had already guessed the answer.
"Not many people do it alone. At least not at this point. First time?"
"Yeah."
"Well," he said, his tone a mixture of warning and friendliness. "This tower is here in case things get complicated. We're not a Pokémon Center, but we do have first aid, radio communication, and a small emergency station. If anything goes wrong in there, or if you see something that shouldn't be there… come back. Sound the alarm by the entrance. We'll come."
I turned towards the entrance to the mountain, a pitch-black hole in the middle of the rock.
"Does it happen often?"
The ranger took a sip from his cup and then looked me straight in the eyes.
"No more than normal," he replied. "But this is Mt. Moon. In here, normal is good enough."
He didn't say anything else. He didn't offer unnecessary advice or try to dissuade me. He just gave me one last look of recognition, as if he wanted to memorize my face in case he needed to look me up later.
I kept walking.
The tower remained silent behind me, but its presence offered me a tenuous security. A reminder that the world, no matter how wild it became, still had footholds. Places where someone cared about maintaining balance. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Finally, I stood in front of the entrance to Mt. Moon.
There was no sign. No imposing arch. Just a huge crack that swallowed the sunlight. The air that came out was cold, damp, and thick. It smelled of old earth, of worn stone, of history.
Ralts stood to my left. Nidorino to my right. Neither of us backed down.
The sound of the outside world faded behind me. Only the echo of my footsteps remained, the murmur of raindrops falling deep below, and the expectant silence of a place that owed me nothing… and was about to teach me its rules.
Mt. Moon greeted me with darkness.
And I walked in without looking back.
Trainer License
Trainer: Maxwell Jones
Hometown: Pewter City
Sponsorship: None
Money: $72,200 Pokedollars ↑$800
Badges: 1.- Boulder Badge
Expandable Travel Backpack (Deluxe)
1. 5 Potions (1 slot)
2. 3 rage candy bar (1 slot)
3. 10 Pokeballs (2 slots)
4. 1 Escape Rope (1 slot)
5. 1 Red Handkerchief with 16 Orange Berries (1 slot)⬇
6. 3 Antidotes (Poison Cure) (1 slot)
7. Badges case (1 slot)
8. PokéNav (1 slot)
9. Travel Cooking Kit (includes folding pan, small knife, kettle container and mini lighter, all in a compact case) – 2 slot
10. Food ration forPokémon (bag with portions for 4 days) (2 slots)⬇
11. Human food ration (canned and freeze-dried food for 3 days) (2 slot)⬇
12. Basic camping kit (includes compact tent, sleeping bag and collapsible flashlight) – 3 slots
Occupied slots: 18/30
Pokémon
Nidorino
Gender: Male
Level: 20
Moves: Read, Peck, Focus Energy, Double Kick, Poison Sting, Fury Attack, Horn Attack
Ralts ✨
Gender: Female
Level: 18 ↑1
Moves: Disarming Voice, Teleport, Growl, Double Team, Hypnosis, Draining Kiss, Lucky Chant
EXTRA
Pendulum necklace