The buzz had not stopped since Albert's papers were published.
Letters, electronic requests, and invitations flooded in from every corner of the Pokémon world.
Researchers clamored to confirm the results, coordinators begged for demonstrations, and journalists smelled a story that bordered on myth: a five-year-old boy who had discovered not one, but five new evolutionary forms of Eevee.
Joseph, ever composed amid the chaos, quickly made a decision.
Rather than let Albert be overwhelmed by countless requests, he would bring the world to Devon Corp. Within a week, the corporation's headquarters in Rustboro City prepared for a press conference of unprecedented scale.
The morning of the event, the grand auditorium of Devon shimmered with light.
Rows of seats filled with men and women in formal suits, research robes, and even contest uniforms.
Cameras clicked incessantly, broadcast crews set up their feeds, and the murmur of dozens of languages blended into a restless hum.
Across the world, millions are prepared to watch the conference live.
Behind the stage curtain, Albert adjusted the cuffs of his simple but neatly pressed outfit, chosen and fussed over by Steven earlier that morning.
His amethyst eyes flicked briefly to the small watch on his wrist—Steven's birthday gift—and he took a quiet breath.
"You've got this," Steven whispered with a grin, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Besides, you're prettier than half the presenters they've ever seen. No way they won't listen to you."
Albert shot him a flat look, cheeks faintly pink. "Steven...they won't even see my face." He gave a helpless response to the mischievous boy.
Before Steven could tease him further, Joseph stepped in. "It's time," he said simply, his tone steady but edged with pride.
The stage curtain finally parted.
A hush fell over the crowd as the boy stepped forward, his small figure dwarfed by the vast stage.
At his side, five Pokémon walked with grace: the slender Espeon, the midnight Umbreon, the leafy Leafeon, the icy Glaceon, and the radiant Sylveon.
Each of them glowed faintly under the lights, their presence commanding silence.
Albert placed his notes on the podium, though he scarcely glanced at them.
His voice, soft but clear, carried across the hall.
"My research," he began, "focused on Eevee's genetic adaptability. Using equipment I designed and customized, I measured type affinity and environmental responsiveness. Through careful bonding, sustained happiness, or precise conditions, five new evolutionary pathways emerged."
Gasps rippled through the audience as the five Pokémon spread out in a semicircle, each displaying subtle motions—Espeon's gem pulsing, Umbreon's rings glowing faintly, Leafeon's leafy ears swaying as if in a breeze, Glaceon exhaling a faint mist, and Sylveon curling its ribbons affectionately around Albert's wrist.
Albert continued, his words methodical, clinical, even, yet filled with a quiet reverence.
"Each evolution has unique traits, not only in physical ability but also in personality. I documented not only their biological parameters but also their habits, preferences, and behaviors. These findings may assist not only research but also training and coordination, offering a deeper understanding of Eevee's adaptability and bonds."
When the time came for questions, hands shot up at once.
"How did you measure type affinity in such young specimens?" asked an Indigo Realm professor, leaning forward eagerly.
"With calibrated resonance equipment," Albert replied. "It allowed me to identify and quantify how an Eevee's internal energy aligned with elemental frequencies."
"Can the conditions be replicated by trainers outside a laboratory?" pressed another.
Albert nodded. "Yes—though without proper measurement, success rates may vary. The principle is that Eevee responds to environments and emotional connections as much as external catalysts."
Another researcher's voice rose above the hum: "You mention emotional resonance several times in your paper. How do you intend to refine that measure?"
Albert paused, then answered firmly, "I plan to improve and standardize machinery that can detect and produce emotional energy, and refine instruments that measure resonance between Pokémon and trainer. Once validated, these could be distributed to labs and training centers. But I will first conduct further studies on their applicability and reliability. That will be my next research."
The questions came one after another.
Some were technical, some skeptical, others wide-eyed with fascination.
Albert answered each with calm clarity, though occasionally slipping into language so complex that Steven muttered from the wings, "Translation, please," earning quiet laughter from nearby reporters.
By the time the last question ended, the audience was buzzing with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Coordinators whispered excitedly about showcasing Sylveon's ribbons in contests.
Trainers speculated about the combat potential of Umbreon's resilience or Glaceon's precision.
Researchers scribbled frantic notes, already plotting verification experiments.
Joseph stood silently to the side, arms crossed, expression inscrutable. Yet in his eyes flickered a rare light—shock, pride, and something close to awe.
He had believed in Albert's potential, but to see him stand before the world, so young and yet so unshakably capable, left him momentarily stunned.
As the applause thundered, Albert blinked, almost dazed by the sheer sound.
His Eeveelutions gathered close, their presence grounding him as flashes of cameras lit the hall.
When the curtain finally closed behind him, Steven stepped forward with a grin. "See? You're the star of the show now. Try not to forget us little people when you're famous."
Albert rolled his eyes, though a faint smile broke across his lips. "I didn't do this for fame."
Steven chuckled, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "But it looks like the rest of the world has its eyes on you."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
By the next morning, newspapers and digital feeds were saturated with headlines:
"Five-Year-Old Researcher Redefines Eevee Evolution."
"The Prodigy of Rustboro: Devon Corp Unveils Five New Pokémon Forms."
"Emotional Energy: The Next Frontier?"
Clips of Albert standing beside his Eeveelutions played endlessly on continental news broadcasts.
Scientific communities dissected his answers, trainers debated the implications for battle strategy, and coordinators thrilled at the behavioral notes and playful tendencies he had catalogued.
Though Albert himself retreated quietly back into his routines, the world would not soon forget what they had witnessed at Devon Corp.
But what lingered most in everyone's mind was his final remark: his intent to refine instruments that could measure and produce emotional energy, to make the invisible bond between trainer and Pokémon something tangible, measurable, and perhaps even sharable.
Across research labs, universities, training centers, and contest halls, a single expectation began to take root.
If Researcher Deford, at only five years old, had revealed five new evolutionary forms of Eevee… then whatever he turned to next would surely redefine the very future of Pokémon research.