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At noon, Sato stepped into the Pokémon Center in the city center right before the clock struck two. Without pause, he headed straight up the stairs to the second floor.
The mission hall upstairs was already packed. Everywhere he looked, ordinary Trainers wore grim expressions, whispering in small groups.
"Tyler, over here!"
As soon as Sato nudged his way into the crowd, a loud, calloused hand shot up above the heads around him.
Sato's expression didn't change at the sound of the voice. Calmly, he strolled toward it.
When the others heard the name "Tyler," many faces shifted instantly. As Sato approached, the Trainers nearby quickly made way, opening a clear path for him.
In no time, he reached a tall, thin young man. Beside him stood a woman as cold as ice and a burly man in martial arts gear.
The lanky youth was Phil, the icy beauty was Safina, and the brawny man was Gibson. All three were natives of Slateport City, and currently, they were Sato's teammates in the same mission squad.
These past few days, Sato hadn't actually been idly wandering the city. In truth, he had been deliberately seeking out and blending into local Trainer groups.
Effort paid off. Through several Pokémon battles against locals, he found a circle.
The strong always drew attention. Though an outsider, Sato's skill earned him quick acceptance among the city's ordinary Trainers.
The reason was simple — joining these groups gave him access to valuable information.
That "information" referred to temporary missions issued by the League to common Trainers. For people like Sato, these missions were the stepping stones to becoming recognized League affiliated Trainers.
Normally, the League posted such missions at busy places like Pokémon Centers. But the demand far outweighed supply — there were far too many common Trainers and too few missions.
Still, that was just the usual case. In a sprawling metropolis like Slateport, accidents cropped up constantly, like the endless stream of patients in a hospital's emergency room. At any hour, something could happen.
If the accidents involved Pokémon or Trainers, the League had to send someone. Yet real League Trainers were limited in number, and they weren't always free.
When manpower ran short, the League naturally passed the urgent, unhandled cases onto general Trainers hungry to prove themselves — people like Sato.
After all, Trainers like him were abundant and inexpensive. If something went wrong, the League bore little responsibility, since both sides entered the deal willingly.
When a person chose the path of a Trainer, they had to accept the risks — especially common Trainers. Without risking their lives, they would never rise above the masses.
These temporary missions were posted irregularly. Unless a Trainer lingered in the mission hall for hours, it was hard to snag one.
They were also far more dangerous than regular missions, often too much for one person to handle.
For that reason, many Trainers formed informal mission squads. Usually, one member would stake out the Pokémon Center to grab missions the moment they appeared, then call the others to join in.
Sato had only joined Phil's squad two days ago. He had impressed them with his power, and the outgoing Phil invited him first. Naturally, Sato accepted — today was his very first temporary League mission.
Phil was the one stationed at the mission hall. As soon as a temporary mission popped up, he had called Sato and the others.
This time, however, there was only one mission — one requiring a very large number of Trainers. Phil didn't even need to compete for it. He simply waited for his teammates to arrive.
"That's the situation, Tyler. Are you in? If you come with us, we'll definitely come back with a full harvest."
Phil explained eagerly, finishing with hopeful eyes fixed on Sato.
Safina and Gibson also turned to him, the same longing glinting in their gazes.
They knew Sato's strength. They knew about his formidable Pikachu. Just as Phil said, if he joined them, their squad's success was nearly guaranteed.
The mission was to suppress a sudden Pokémon riot.
Not long ago, the eastern coast of Slateport had been struck by a large-scale outbreak. Countless wild Water-type Pokémon had surged ashore, wreaking havoc on seaside settlements and showing signs of advancing toward the city.
With the League short-staffed, Slateport's higher-ups had issued urgent orders: general Trainers like Sato were to reinforce the League and help repel the invaders.
To draw in as many as possible, the rewards were generous. The League distributed special PokeBalls to Trainers. Contributions would be measured by the number of Pokémon caught using them during the riot.
Once a Trainer ran out, they could collect more. In other words, the stronger the Trainer, the greater their haul.
"Of course I'm in. With luck, this mission might give us enough contribution points to open the door to the League. Still, it's a large-scale riot. We mustn't get greedy. Safety first."
A spark lit Sato's eyes. He nodded at Phil with a grin.
"Naturally. Contribution points can be earned slowly, but we've only got one life. Don't worry — if you point us east, we won't stray a step elsewhere."
Phil's face broke into a wide smile at Sato's answer. He thumped his chest, brimming with loyalty.
Safina and Gibson also nodded firmly at Sato.
Strength ruled, always and everywhere. With Sato being stronger than them, he had every right to lead. As long as his orders weren't suicidal, they would follow.
Just then, a stern-faced middle-aged man emerged from the back door of the hall, flanked by several League officers.
They wasted no time. They began swiftly registering names of those joining the suppression, handing each Trainer a set of special PokeBalls.
One by one, those who signed up took their PokeBalls and left immediately, hurrying toward the coast where the riot raged.