Honestly, raising a Pokémon—especially raising one well—was no easy task.
Of course, if you just let it free-range and didn't bother to cultivate it with care, that was another matter entirely. But a person like that was a failed trainer, someone who would never earn the true approval of their Pokémon.
Silas scoffed at the idea of being some kind of "capitalist" trainer, working his Pokémon to the bone under harsh conditions. It simply wouldn't work. The Pokémon would either abandon you, or you'd get a visit from Officer Jenny and her own brand of heavenly justice. A Poké Ball wasn't a brainwashing device.
The truth, as revealed in historical texts from the Hisui region, was that Pokémon were inherently kind creatures, willing to help the seemingly "weak" humans. The reason they jumped out of the tall grass wasn't to attack, but to offer their help to new trainers venturing into the wild. They were, for the most part, little angels.
"Still," Silas sighed, "game mechanics and the real world are two different things. If you're a bad person who exploits your Pokémon, you're just fast-forwarding to your own downfall."
He was very clear on this. Even in his old world, a pet owner who couldn't properly care for a cat or dog was seen as unworthy of having one. And when you were faced with a little life that trusted you completely, that entrusted its entire existence to you, how could you not treat it as half of your own life? That was the very definition of a bond.
"That said, good intentions don't pay the bills," Silas stroked his chin, deep in thought. "I need a plan."
"Gib - Gib~" Gible, either full from its meal or tired from training, was already starting to daydream, its eyes glazed over.
But Silas, its trainer, couldn't afford to be as goofy as his Pokémon. The problem was simple: he had to increase his revenue and reduce his expenditure.
Reducing expenditure was a dead end. He was already as frugal as possible. Whatever he ate, Gible ate. He couldn't tighten his belt any further without resorting to a diet of instant noodles and tap water, and that was just a bleak way to live.
"So, I need to increase revenue. Couldn't my Pokémon Editor system have some extra cheat features?" he grumbled to himself. "A database of games, novels, or music from my old world?"
Based on the urban fantasy novels he'd read, plagiarism was the time-honored get-rich-quick scheme for transmigrators. But that required a system that actually contained the data. Other protagonists got absurdly overpowered systems, like the "God-Level Prodigal Son" type where you got richer the more money you wasted. To enjoy those, you had to check your brain at the door.
The more he thought about it, the more Silas felt that his "golden finger" was a bit underpowered, especially with most of its core functions still locked.
Is this some kind of budget system? he complained internally. What a ripoff!
Grumbling about his system's lack of features was just a way to blow off steam. Having a cheat system at all was already incredible luck. What more could he ask for? A motorcycle? Oh, right, in the Pokémon world, the saying should be, "What more could you want? A Cyclizar?!"
After thinking it over, Silas decided to start with something that had a low cost of entry. Part-time jobs like handing out flyers were out; he simply didn't have the time or energy while training Gible. But... he could try his hand at becoming a streamer.
He could make videos for platforms like PokéTube or stream on Poke-Tok. It was a classic move for transmigrators in the stories he'd read. The best part was that it required no upfront financial investment—just a bit of creativity and the willingness to put himself out there.
"Alright!" Silas declared, clenching his fists with renewed purpose. "Starting today, I'm going to become a top-tier Pokémon content creator from scratch!"
"Kapu?! 0.o??" Gible tilted its head, confused. Didn't its trainer just declare his ambition to become a top Pokémon trainer yesterday? Why the sudden career change?
"It's a means to an end," Silas explained to the confused Pokémon. It wasn't like Gible could go out and earn money to support him.
...Although, that wasn't entirely impossible. Selling this Gible—this unique, Dragon-Dancing Gible—would make him a priceless treasure in the eyes of any top trainer. He'd have enough money to live in luxury for the rest of his life.
But he'd have to have been kicked in the head by a Mudsdale to even consider it. The title of this story wasn't Pokémon: I Sold My Dragon Dance Gible and Became a Professional Slacker, after all.
After another grueling day of training, Silas left the gym with an exhausted Gible in tow. Even a pseudo-legendary, full of boundless energy, had its limits. He knew that intense physical training had to be paired with proper recovery to be effective, just like how human athletes used massage therapy to relax their muscles.
Since he didn't know any students from the Breeding or Pokémon Nursing programs, he took a slight detour before heading back to the dorms. He brought Gible to the university's school clinic. As a student, he was entitled to the school's welfare and support systems, after all.
"Your Pokémon is all treated, Silas," a gentle voice called out after about ten minutes. A woman in a lab coat, School Nurse Mimosa, pushed a small, white Pokémon-sized gurney out of the infirmary. Her assistant, a Drowzee, followed dutifully behind her.
"Gib~ Gib~" Gible sat up on the gurney and waved its short arms, flexing to show Silas that it was back in top condition.
"He's certainly energetic," Nurse Mimosa said with a smile, covering her mouth lightly. "Hard training is a good thing, but please be careful not to overwork him."
"Thank you, Nurse Mimosa. I'll keep that in mind," Silas said, smiling politely.
He found the setup interesting. The public face of Pokémon healthcare was the Joy family, whose members staffed nearly every Pokémon Center, usually assisted by a Chansey (or an Audino in Unova, or an Indeedee in Galar). But smaller clinics, like this one, often had different staff.
He was curious why Nurse Mimosa's assistant was a Drowzee. The Hypnosis Pokémon had a... certain reputation outside of battle. Its battling applications could be summarized in three seconds, but its uses in other, less savory fields could be discussed for three days and three nights.
Perhaps its hypnosis is invaluable for calming down anxious Pokémon so they can receive treatment peacefully, Silas reasoned. The skill does have a wide range of uses. I shouldn't always assume the worst about a Pokémon like Drowzee.
Nurse Mimosa was not, in fact, a member of the illustrious Joy family. She was originally a Pokémon doctor from a small town on the border of the Paldea region. As part of an international exchange program, she had come to the Eastern region to work in the school infirmary at the University, using it as a staging post to gain more experience. Her ultimate goal was to become a respected instructor at one of the world's most prestigious schools, the Orange or Grape Academy back in her home region.
Being a foreign exchange professional at a famous international university like this one added a nice layer of gold to her resume. That, combined with her gentle and kind personality, made her extremely popular. She was unfailingly patient with both students and Pokémon. It also didn't hurt that she had long pink hair, a good figure, and a cute face. In fact, that was probably the main reason the students had nicknamed her the "Angel of the Infirmary."
Silas, however, didn't really care about any of that. He had a self-diagnosed allergy to overly "gentle" girls. In his experience, that kind of kindness was a trap for the lonely. It made you overthink every friendly hello, get your hopes up over a simple mail, and mistake politeness for affection. He had learned the hard way that a person who is gentle to you is likely just gentle by nature, and it's foolish to think it's something special. As a battle-hardened SOLO king, he was well-trained in loneliness and would not be easily fooled.
Anyway, the important thing was that he could get free medical care for his Pokémon. That was an awesome perk.
I'll be back tomorrow! he thought cheerfully.
Gible: Gib? 0.o? (You monster! What are you planning to do to an innocent baby like me?)
Back in his dorm, Silas immediately turned on his computer and logged into PokéTV. Before he could create a channel, he had to pass the site's notoriously difficult entrance exam.
[Question 1: Which of the following Pokémon is a Dragon-type?]
[A: Dracozolt; B: Gyarados; C: Charizard; D: Alolan Exeggutor.]
[Question 2: A Pokémon with which of the following Natures will NOT become confused after eating a Figy Berry?]
[A: Modest; B: Timid; C: Adamant; D: Jolly.]
While most aspiring streamers had to cheat by looking up the answers online, Silas didn't need to. Relying on the vast repository of Pokémon knowledge in his head, he blazed through the test in ten minutes. His account was registered.
Now it was time to launch the game that powered the platform: Pokémon: Masters EX.
It was a virtual battle simulator, jointly developed by the major Pokémon League regions. It was an invaluable tool for everyone, from rookies learning the basics to top-tier trainers testing experimental teams without putting their actual Pokémon through the strain of constant battle.
"Now... what kind of title will actually attract viewers?" Silas pondered, stroking his chin.
The protagonists in the novels he'd read always seemed to get famous overnight, immediately getting matched against legends like Red or Green and having their follower counts explode. Why did he have to start from scratch with zero fans? The life of a transmigrator wasn't as easy as it looked.
In an era where traffic was king, even the best wine needed good marketing. Silas was a complete unknown. He could brazenly declare himself the "Strongest King" or a "Battle Legend," but one look at his non-existent track record would expose him as a fraud. He didn't even have a runner-up trophy to his name.
"It seems," he sighed, his gaze falling on the happily dozing Gible, "that I'll have to rely on squeezing every last drop of Gible's surplus value."
A title formed in his mind, and he grinned. It was perfect.
"'Dragon Dance' Gible. That ought to get some clicks."
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PS: The author notes the irony. In the novel, the protagonist relies on the "Dragon Dance" Gible to gain popularity; outside the novel, the author relies on the "Dragon Dance" Gible to gain popularity. The Gible is about to cry from being bullied like this.
Check out my pateron for advanced chapter .
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