The three familiar faces stood in the doorway, each wearing the same hopeful expressions I'd seen before—like customers returning to a restaurant they weren't sure had survived health inspection.
"Boss, we're here for the immersive training again!" the red-haired boy announced proudly, as if he were doing me a favor by showing up.
I took one look around my newly upgraded gym—the polished treadmills, the spotless battle arena, the faint scent of industrial-strength lemon cleaner—and had to admit, the place looked… decent. Not jaw-dropping, but certainly not the crumbling hazard it was when they first arrived.
And that was the problem.
Immersive training, in their minds, meant danger: frayed nets, malfunctioning sprinklers, unpredictable shocks from old wiring. You know… character-building hazards. Now, with the safety systems working properly, the chaos factor was gone.
I forced a smile. "Of course we still do immersive training. We've just… refined the process."
The girl tilted her head. "Refined?"
"Yes," I said, already improvising at high speed. "Think of it as… advanced realism. All the risk, but in a controlled, professional way. Totally safe… probably."
They exchanged glances. Squirtle, standing behind me, crossed his arms and raised a skeptical brow ridge. He knew I was bluffing.
The red-haired boy frowned. "But Boss, last time you said the broken nets were part of the training. Now they're fixed…"
"Exactly," I interrupted, seizing the opening. "Last time, you were rookies. Now you've leveled up. You deserve an experience that matches your growth."
Their "interest" bars in my system's interface hovered stubbornly at 70%. Not bad, but not enough to close the deal.
I cleared my throat. "We'll be adding… environmental simulations. For example—Squirtle!"
Without hesitation, Squirtle grabbed the MK-II's remote control, cranked it to max speed, and sent the maintenance robot whirling across the arena with a mop attachment. It spun in rapid circles, flinging soapy water everywhere like a foam cannon at a very low-budget festival.
The girl's eyes widened. "Whoa… it's like battling in a rainstorm!"
Interest level: 85%.
Encouraged, I picked up a bucket of gravel from the corner and tossed it across the wet floor. The stones skittered unpredictably, adding a tripping hazard worthy of any outdoor battlefield.
Interest level: 93%.
"Alright," I said, pointing dramatically to the arena. "Today's scenario: Urban Combat in a Storm. Avoid environmental hazards while engaging your opponent. Survive ten minutes, and you pass."
The red-haired boy grinned. "Let's do it!"
As the battle started, I leaned against the wall and watched them struggle to stay upright. Squirtle played the role of "environmental boss," spraying water jets that ricocheted off the walls. The MK-II zipped around like a rogue Rattata, scattering suds in their path.
At the five-minute mark, the boy with the Beldum misstepped, landing flat on his back with a splash that sent soap into Riolu's eyes. Riolu flailed blindly, colliding with Growlithe, who yelped and skidded into the MK-II.
The resulting chain reaction sent the robot spinning out of control, slamming into the wall and leaving a fresh dent in my newly repaired paneling.
I winced. There goes the "fully renovated" look.
"Boss," the girl called breathlessly between dodges, "this is… awesome!"
Interest level: 100%.
Perfect. I made a mental note: the more chaotic the environment, the happier the customers. Next time, I might add an air cannon or two.
When the session ended, they were dripping wet, bruised, and grinning ear to ear.
"How much?" the red-haired boy asked, pulling out his wallet before I could even answer.
"Two hundred Alliance Coins per hour," I said smoothly. "A fair rate for advanced immersive combat training."
No one hesitated. Three sets of coins hit the counter in rapid succession.
As they left, the girl turned back. "Boss, we'll bring more friends next time. You'll need to make it even harder!"
I gave her a confident nod, but inside, my stomach twisted. Making it "harder" meant more repairs, more equipment at risk, and more chances for Squirtle to accidentally blow up a fuse box.
Still, money was money.
Once the gym was quiet again, I opened the system menu to check my earnings. The total balance gleamed like a warm campfire in the darkness:
Total Funds: 6,400 Alliance Coins
Not enough to solve my rent problem, but enough for groceries, some spare parts, and maybe a small luxury—like tea that didn't taste like it was brewed in 1998.
Just as I was savoring the thought, the system chimed.
[Random Event Triggered: Mysterious Challenger Approaching]ETA: 02:00:00
I groaned. "Of course. The moment I have a good day…"
Two hours to prepare for who-knows-what. I glanced at Squirtle, who was already hauling the MK-II back to its dock for repairs. Latina was nowhere to be seen—probably still camped outside the sealed storage room, waiting for the renovation countdown to end.
"Alright, buddy," I said, crouching to Squirtle's level. "Looks like we've got another storm coming. Let's make sure we're ready."
His determined nod was all the answer I needed.