Day 45.
The cave no longer looked like a hiding place.
It looked like territory.
The air was still heavy with sulfur, still warm enough to make sweat cling to skin, but everything inside had been reshaped by routine and violence. Rope lines marked paths. Stones were stacked into rough shelves. Empty berry pouches were sorted by type. The ultraviolet (UV) lanterns at the entrance had been reinforced with wire and wedged into cracks so they couldn't be knocked loose.
And the walls…
The walls were scarred.
Black smears from Koffing's smoke. Shallow gouges where Geodude had tried to climb in and failed. Impact marks from training—pebbles, wing strikes, and thrown debris. The place looked lived-in the way a battlefield looked lived-in.
Enzo stood near the spring, shirt damp, shoulders leaner, frame tighter. Protein rations, constant movement, cave air that never let lungs rest—his body had been carved down to what mattered.
He held a small stone between two fingers and stared at it until his eyes hurt.
Nothing happened.
He kept staring.
The stone trembled.
Just once.
Then it dragged across the flat rock surface—
Two millimeters.
Enzo exhaled slowly.
"Telekinesis," he murmured. "Still weak."
He flexed his hand, feeling the faint ache behind his eyes. Not pain like before—no skull-splitting rewiring. This was the dull strain of a muscle being trained.
"But telepathy…" he added, almost satisfied. "Telepathy can hold full conversations now."
From behind him, a happy vibration rolled through the cave.
Koffing floated in lazy circles, inhaling the cave gas like it was a luxury. It had never looked healthier than it did down here—vents clean, body bobbing with constant energy, grin fixed as always.
A slow, eager thought drifted into Enzo's mind, clearer than it had been weeks ago.
"Master… we go… bum today?"
Enzo didn't even look.
"Yes," he said.
Koffing's whole body brightened with joy.
They didn't "hunt" anymore.
Enzo ran a schedule.
At the edge of the southern forest—where the toxic yellow air thinned and the first real plants returned—Oddish and Paras gathered in clusters. Easy prey. Low risk. Enough bodies to feed experience and profit.
Koffing hovered above a patch of grass like a happy executioner.
Enzo pointed once.
"Self-Destruct."
Koffing didn't hesitate.
It loved orders like that.
The purple sphere swelled, grin stretching wider, and for a fraction of a second, the world inhaled.
Then—
BOOM.
The blast rolled through the brush like a wave, flattening leaves, kicking dirt into the air, scattering spores and petals in a violent ring. Oddish and Paras flew. Some went limp instantly. Some twitched, barely conscious, half-buried in soil.
Enzo stepped forward calmly while smoke still drifted.
He didn't waste time on the dead.
He went for the survivors.
Poké Balls clicked, red beams snapped, and one after another, the barely-moving bodies disappeared into containment.
A farm.
A grinder.
Koffing lay in the center of the crater, blackened and fainted—
smiling.
Enzo recalled it with one hand and kept walking.
When he returned to the cave and his fingers wrapped around the warm metal, the System flickered to life.
[ STATUS — KOFFING ]
Level: 12 ➝ 16
Potential: LIGHT RED
Moves: Tackle (Normal) | Smokescreen (Normal) | Clear Smog (Poison) | Self-Destruct (Normal)
Enzo's gaze lingered on the level increase.
No change in potential.
But the explosion had changed.
It hit harder now. The recharge felt faster. The bomb was learning how to be a better bomb.
Enzo closed the window and looked toward the deeper shadows of the cave.
"Your turn," he said.
Gastly didn't float like a lazy cloud anymore.
It hung in the air with weight.
Three weeks of high-quality Ghost blocks and constant hunting had condensed the thing until its gas looked almost… thick. Dense enough that the cave light caught it. Dense enough that its grin looked sharper.
And its mind—
Its mind was still playful.
Still sadistic.
But no longer bored.
It had learned to enjoy Enzo's kind of routine.
Enzo touched its gas lightly—contact—and the System answered.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE]
Specimen: Gastly
Level: 19
Potential: DEEP GREEN
Moves: Hypnosis (Psychic) | Lick (Ghost) | Confuse Ray (Ghost) | Mean Look (Normal) | Shadow Ball (Ghost)
Deep Green.
Enzo's eyes narrowed slightly.
He'd done that without the virus.
Just training. Nutrition. Pressure.
He looked up at Gastly's grin.
"Ready?" Enzo asked.
Gastly's response slithered into his head, pleased.
"Boss… bonus?"
Enzo's mouth twitched. Not a smile.
"Yeah, Bonus…" he said.
He pressed the Poké Ball to his palm and let the System open the prompt.
The choice was simple now.
Enzo didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The ball warmed—blue, then violet—and Gastly's gas body shivered like a storm had passed through it. For a heartbeat, the cave air itself warped. The violet glow wasn't pretty. It was wrong.
Gastly's grin faltered for a fraction of a second.
Then returned, wider.
The System stamped the update with cold precision.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Gastly (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 19
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Bond Indicator: "Increased proximity to host detected."
Enzo stared at the new tier.
Light Blue.
A prodigy.
He didn't let himself react too much. Not here. Not out loud.
A sharp metallic scrape echoed from the back of the cave.
Enzo turned.
Rookidee wasn't Rookidee anymore.
Not really.
It hadn't evolved yet—but it had outgrown its own species. A normal Rookidee was small. Light. Built to dart.
This one was compact and heavy, a chunk of muscle wrapped in feathers that looked like hammered metal. It stood taller than it should have. Broader. Denser. When it moved, the stone beneath it noticed.
It was level 19 now.
And Enzo had forced it to stay in that form for as long as possible.
Because every day it stayed unevolved, its foundation hardened.
But foundations had limits.
Enzo crouched and placed a hand on its chest. Solid. Warm. Alive.
The bird pushed a clear thought into him now—simple, but complete.
"Stronger. Bigger. Now."
Enzo exhaled.
"Yeah," he murmured. "You can't get stronger in this body anymore."
The bird stared at him, unblinking.
Enzo straightened.
"Okay," he said. "You can let go."
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the air cracked.
The evolution wasn't a beautiful bloom of light.
It was violence.
Bones shifted with audible snaps. Feathers tore and regrew. The body expanded so fast it looked wrong, like the creature was ripping out of its own skin. A metallic scream tore out of it, echoing through the cave walls like steel being bent.
Enzo didn't move.
He just watched with a cold kind of pride.
The light faded.
And what stood there now wasn't a small bird.
It was Corvisquire.
Too big.
Too heavy.
A giant for its species, eyes sharp as blades, posture like something that had never learned fear.
Enzo stepped closer and touched its feathers—contact—and the System answered.
[ STATUS — CORVISQUIRE ]
Level: 19
Potential: BLUE
Ability: Keen Eye
Size: 1.4m (unusually large)
Moves: Peck (Flying) | Air Slash (Flying) | Sand Attack (Ground) | Power Trip (Dark) | Payback (Dark) | Hone Claws (Dark) | Leer (Normal)
Obs: "Abnormal mass density. Wing pressure output exceeds species baseline."
Enzo's gaze held on the Potential line.
Light Blue as a child.
Blue after evolution.
The form finally matched the growth.
Corvisquire lifted its head and pushed a thought into him, proud and direct.
"Good."
Enzo nodded once.
Koffing sees this and approaches, floating in from the side, vibrating happily.
"Bum?"
Enzo didn't look at it.
"Later."
Koffing sighed like the world was unfair.
Five days.
That number sat in Enzo's head like a blade pressed against skin.
Day 50.
The exam.
The mission (King of the Hill).
Death if he failed.
But he was prepared
On the table, Enzo lined up his Poké Balls in neat rows.
19 normal Poké Balls.
He ran his fingers over them one by one, remembering what each ball contained without needing the System to remind him.
The "trash Pokémon" he'd been farming were carefully chosen, not random.
The best of the trash.
Twelve deep yellow balls.
Six Zubat and Six Geodude.
They weren't impressive.
But they are worth something.
And then the premium layer:
Six light green.
One Slugma, Two Raticate, and Three Ekans.
And finally
One heavy ball, Enzo didn't keep on the table.
He kept it in his bag.
Because even sealed, it felt… filthy.
Grimer.
Deep Green.
He'd found it in a pool of acid so pure it ate rock. The thing had been living in it like it was water. Dense enough that when it moved, the slime dragged behind like a cloak.
He didn't want it on his team; if it was an Alolan one with the double typing, maybe it would work, but a normal one, no way.
Too slow. Too disgusting. Too obvious.
But a Muk with that base?
Enzo's eyes narrowed.
He looked back at the twelve deep yellow balls.
Then at the six light greens.
Then, at the space in his head where Rocket Points should be.
He did the math automatically.
If Yellow was worth about 500 points each.
Green was worth about 5000.
He could turn a handful of trash into wealth with one decision.
The temptation crawled up his spine like a living thing.
TMs. Items. Better Pokéblocks. Bribes…
Tools to make the remaining 50 Days not just survivable but enjoyable.
Enzo's jaw tightened.
Then the fear hit.
Not fear of dying.
Fear of consequences.
What if they talked?
What if someone bought a "better" Zubat and had a Psychic who could hear it think?
The Enzo transferred a virus with his hands.
That sentence was a bullet.
Enzo looked at Gastly.
Gastly beside the table, grinning like it already knew the conversation was going to be unethical.
Enzo didn't waste time.
"When I used the virus on you," Enzo asked quietly, "what did you feel?"
Gastly's grin shifted—almost embarrassed, which looked wrong on something so smug.
Then the answer slipped into Enzo's mind."Heat."A pause."Power."Another pause, slower."…And a closer feeling to boss."
Enzo's stomach turned.
"s****" he muttered under his breath.
He stared at the twelve balls.
He pictured six Zubat staring at him like he was the center of their world.
Six Geodude loyally remember his hands.
Twelve living witnesses.
He couldn't sell that.
Not safely.
Enzo's eyes hardened.
Then his expression smoothed into something cold and practical.
"If they're unconscious," he said, mostly to himself, "their brains don't register it."
No feeling.
No memory.
No immediate bond imprint.
They'd just wake up…
Better.
Enzo turned toward his team.
"Gastly," he ordered. "Corvisquire."
Both appeared—Gastly floating like smoke with teeth, Corvisquire looming like a compact titan.
Enzo's voice stayed even.
"Put them down. Hard."
His gaze flicked to Koffing's ball.
"Koffing stays quiet."
Koffing vibrated indignantly.
Enzo ignored it.
He released the twelve Pokémon into the cave.
Zubat shrieked. Geodude grunted. Confusion, anger, instinct.
It lasted seconds.
Gastly's eyes flashed.
Hypnosis rolled across the group like a wave.
Some fought it.
Corvisquire didn't let them.
It slammed the ground, struck with brutal precision, forcing bodies down. Wings. Beaks. Impact.
No mercy.
No hesitation.
Within moments, twelve bodies lay scattered across the stone, fainted in a messy pile.
Enzo didn't flinch.
He recalled them one by one.
And then—
He injected.
One ball at a time.
Warmth. Blue-violet pulse. Silent rewrite.
No screams.
No bonding gaze.
Just improvement.
When he finished, he held one of the balls in his palm and let the System confirm the change—private, invisible to the world.
Deep Yellow… pushed upward.
Light Green.
Enzo's mouth curled into a small, satisfied expression.
"Rocket Points," he murmured. "Come to papa."
Then his eyes slid to the bag.
To one special Poké Ball inside.
Grimer...
He hesitated for only a second.
Because the thought was disgusting—
and irresistible.
If the virus could push deep green to light blue…
He'd have a Grimer with Light Blue potential.
And if it evolved into Muk—
Even if the sub-tier stabilized—
He'd still end up with something terrifying.
Enzo exhaled.
"Fine," he muttered. "f**** it."
He released Grimer into the cave.
The creature oozed out as a nightmare poured onto stone, acidic stench, body thick and heavy, eyes dull with hunger.
It moved toward him.
Corvisquire stepped in front instantly.
Gastly drifted to the side, grin widening.
Enzo didn't waste a word.
"Take him down."
Gastly's Hypnosis hit first.
Grimer resisted—slow, stubborn, dense.
Corvisquire struck the ground with a violent stomp, then drove a brutal Peck into the sludge mass, forcing it to recoil.
Grimer tried to spit acid.
Gastly's Confuse Ray twisted its aim.
The acid splashed uselessly against stone.
Corvisquire hit again.
Harder.
The Grimer's body sagged, then collapsed into a fainted heap, bubbling weakly.
Enzo recalled it immediately.
Then he pressed the ball to his palm.
"Yes," he said.
The virus pulsed.
The rewrite took.
Enzo didn't smile.
Not really.
Because he knew what he'd just created.
Something he'd keep in the bag until the day he needed a monster to give to a subordinate or needed money quickly.
He slipped the ball back into his backpack and tightened the strap.
Five days.
He looked around his cave—organized, scarred, ready.
He looked at his team.
"Alright," he whispered.
"Time to go back to the base."
As Enzo was packing up his stuff, Koffing approached and, when about to question, Enzo responded first, "no you can't." Koffing felt sad but maintained the classical stupid face.