Linhai City didn't care about destinies.
It cared about permits, rankings, and territory.
Eren learned that the moment they stepped into the Trainer Registration Hall.
The building was massive—steel, glass, and reinforced energy barriers. Trainers moved in and out constantly, Pokémon at their sides: Growlithe in police harnesses, Machoke carrying cargo, Rotom slipping through security grids.
A Machamp slammed a crate into place nearby, cracking the pavement.
Lia didn't flinch.
"Remember," she murmured, "we're nobodies."
"For now," Eren replied.
They approached the counter.
The clerk barely looked up. "Trainer qualification?"
"Yes," Eren said.
A scanner swept over them.
[Status: Unregistered.][Pokémon Count: Zero.]
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "No active Pokémon?"
"Egg stage," Lia replied smoothly. "Private incubation."
That earned a nod. "Fair enough. City's been rough lately."
He slid two cards across the counter.
"Provisional licenses. No realm access above Tier-0. No urban combat privileges. And if you cause damage—"
"We pay," Eren finished.
The clerk smirked. "Or you run."
They took the cards and stepped aside.
As they did, a group entered behind them—three trainers in coordinated jackets, their Pokémon radiating pressure. A fully evolved Garchomp loomed behind one of them, scars crossing its chest.
Lia stiffened. "Elite-tier."
"And careless," Eren said quietly.
The Garchomp's gaze flicked toward them—brief, dismissive.
Predators didn't fear insects.
Yet.
Outside, the city buzzed with controlled chaos.
"Urban realms open today," Lia noted, checking her feed. "Tier-1 breach near South Dock."
Eren shook his head. "Too early. We're not risking exposure."
Instead, they took a detour through the Lower Trainer Market—a place where legality blurred. Stalls sold cracked Poké Balls, diluted EXP shards, fake evolution stones.
A man tried to sell them a "guaranteed high-potential egg."
Lia laughed in his face.
"People die chasing shortcuts," she said as they walked away.
"And trainers kill faster than Pokémon," Eren added.
A scream cut through the noise.
They turned.
A runaway Primeape rampaged through the street, eyes red, fury unchecked. Its trainer lay unconscious nearby, blood at his temple.
Civilians scattered.
Security was seconds too far.
Eren didn't think.
He stepped forward.
Lia grabbed his arm. "We don't have Pokémon."
"I know," he said.
He activated the realm interface—just a thread, barely enough.
The air shifted.
The Primeape froze mid-charge, muscles locking as invisible pressure wrapped around it—not crushing, just commanding.
The Sovereign Genesis Realm didn't open.
It leaned.
The Primeape collapsed, unconscious.
Silence followed.
People stared.
Lia's heart hammered. "That was risky."
Eren exhaled slowly. "But necessary."
Security arrived moments later, restraining the Primeape and hauling the injured trainer away. No one questioned Eren.
They didn't understand what they'd seen.
As they walked home, Lia spoke quietly.
"The realm can influence reality… even without entry."
Eren nodded grimly. "Which means we must never rely on it publicly."
They reached their apartment.
Inside, the eggs pulsed steadily.
Safe.
For now.
Lia looked at them, then at Eren.
"The city bites," she said.
Eren met her gaze.
"Then we grow fangs."