The Pokémon League of Kanto is the official governing body that oversees trainers, gyms, and the regulation of all competitive battles within the region. Formed generations ago, it has grown into not only a test of strength, but a symbol of unity between humans and Pokémon.
For most trainers, the League represents both a distant dream and an unshakable authority. Its presence is everywhere—broadcasted across holo-screens in the cities, printed in the smallest corner of the PokéNews, and stamped proudly onto every license card.
"The League is more than just a tournament," Anansi muttered to himself as he skimmed through the material the system had fed directly into his mind. His lips twisted into a wry grin. "It's a damn ladder. And if you can't climb it, you get left in the mud."
Every four years the League open Rookie circuit bringing in fresh blood. Not everyone that becomes a Trainer have successful careers. Thousands upon thousand try every year and most don't past the third gym.
Not because they were weak. Because Pokémon were expensive in the way rent was expensive. Not "save up a little" expensive, but "this will decide your life" expensive. If you didn't get a Starter through a lab, daycare, or sponsorship, you were often stuck at Rookie forever, watching the ladder rise away from you like a bad joke.
For impoverished families, parents and their kid trainers might struggle for decades and still not be able to help reach past Rookie.
[A week later…]
Pallet Town, Kanto Region — 12:00 PM
The small town buzzed with a rare sense of ceremony. Children crowded around fences, neighbors leaned from their porches, and even the Pidgey on the rooftops seemed to pause their afternoon flights. Pallet wasn't often the stage of spectacle, but when the day came for Professor Oak to distribute Starter Pokémon, it was as if the whole town exhaled in unison.
Inside the laboratory, polished floors gleamed beneath sunlight streaming through the skylight. Shelves of Poké Balls and research notes lined the walls, the faint hum of machinery blending with the earthy smell of books and incubators.
Meanwhile, their heroine was getting ready for her big day.
Ashlyn Ketchum had turned eighteen a few months ago. Acing her PTLEs (Pokémon Training License Exams) shortly after meant she could finally receive a Starter Pokémon and set out on her own across Kanto, catching and training Pokémon, battling other trainers, and challenging Gym Leaders.
Ashlyn adjusted the strap of her bag, feeling the comforting weight of the essentials she'd packed the night before: Potions, spare clothes, and the empty Poké Balls she'd bought with her saved allowance. Her reflection in the glass doors showed a girl standing on the cusp of something bigger than herself, wide brown eyes full of determination, hair tied back neatly, and a nervous smile tugging at her lips.
Her hands clenched briefly at her sides.
This was no longer the childish dream she'd whispered to herself late at night.
This was real.
This was her chance to carve her name into the world.
"Okay, Ash," she muttered, shaking out her arms to loosen the tension. "No turning back. You worked for this. You earned this."
Ever since she could remember, Ashlyn had been surrounded by Pokémon, from her mother's old stories to the half-faded League broadcasts that played on loop in their living room. Her mom liked to pretend she didn't watch anymore, but Ashlyn always caught her pausing in the doorway whenever a Gym battle came on. Long enough to remember. Not long enough to hope.
They hadn't been poor in the dramatic sense. No empty cupboards, no holes in the roof. But they'd never been comfortable either. Every Poké Ball had a price. Every Potion, every permit, every exam fee chipped away at a future that was already hard to reach. Owning even one Pokémon outright had been a distant fantasy for most of Ashlyn's childhood.
That was the part people never showed on the broadcasts.
The League loved to sell the dream. Holo-screens glittering with Champions, crowd roar turned up, dramatic music blaring while some smiling kid held up a new badge like it weighed nothing at all.
No one showed the receipts.
No one showed the parents working extra shifts.
No one showed talented kids stuck at Rookie because they couldn't afford a second partner.
Ashlyn had seen it anyway.
She'd seen the way Delia's shoulders tightened whenever bills came in. Seen the way her mom always found a reason to "double-check" the restaurant's numbers, like math could become kinder if you stared at it long enough. And she'd seen the look people got when Professor Oak sponsored someone.
That look said: they've been chosen.
Ashlyn wasn't pretending she didn't want it.
She just refused to be the kind of girl who got it and forgot what it cost.
She took one more breath, rolled her shoulders, and stepped forward.
The lab doors slid open with a soft hiss.
For a split second, the bright, clean smell of the place hit her: disinfectant, warmed metal, old paper, something faintly herbal from the incubators. The floors gleamed like they'd been polished that morning. Sunlight poured through the skylight, catching on glass tanks and the smooth curve of sealed Poké Balls displayed along the shelves.
And there, behind the central counter, was Professor Samuel Oak.
Older than the broadcasts made him look. Broader, too, like he'd spent a lifetime hauling crates and wrangling Pokémon before he ever became a name people quoted in textbooks. He had his hands folded behind his back, posture relaxed, eyes sharp.
"Ashlyn," he said, and the way he said her name made her stand a little straighter. "Right on time."
"Yes, Professor," she answered, then realized she sounded like she was reporting for military duty. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Just… excited."
Oak's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile yet. "Excited is acceptable. Reckless is the one I discourage."
A voice cut in from the side, bright and smug.
"Of course she's excited. Some people need a full year of pep talks just to walk through a door."
Ashlyn didn't turn immediately. She didn't give the comment the satisfaction of an instant reaction. She'd learned that trick years ago.
But the voice belonged to someone she could picture perfectly without looking: tall for her age, hair neat in that way that screamed expensive products, posture like she owned whatever room she stood in.
Gigi Oak.
Professor Oak's granddaughter.
Ashlyn finally glanced over. Gigi stood with her arms crossed, wearing a fitted jacket that looked too clean for Pallet Town's dusty roads. She had that same sharp Oak face, the same eyes, and a smirk that never seemed to run out of fuel.
"Hi, Gigi," Ashlyn said pleasantly, like she hadn't just been poked.
Gigi's smirk widened. "Hi, Ashy."
A girl near the far counter rolled her eyes so hard Ashlyn almost heard it.
Leaf Green looked like she'd dressed for travel, not a ceremony. Practical boots. A cap pulled low. A small backpack that actually looked used. Her hair was tucked up out of the way, and she wore an expression that said she'd rather be outdoors than trapped inside listening to Gigi Oak talk.
"You two done?" Leaf asked, then offered Ashlyn a quick smile that was genuinely friendly. "Congrats, by the way. On the PTLEs."
"Thanks," Ashlyn said, and meant it.
Near Leaf, half hidden behind a tall shelf of equipment, was another girl Ashlyn hadn't expected to see inside the lab itself.
Yellow.
She was smaller than the others, quiet in the way that made people lean in without meaning to. She wore a simple yellow hoodie with the sleeves pulled down over her hands and a worn satchel strap across her chest. Her hair was a soft, messy blonde, and her eyes were bright but cautious, like she was watching for sudden movement.
Yellow gave Ashlyn a little wave that looked like it took effort.
Ashlyn's face warmed. She waved back, more enthusiastic than she meant to be.
Professor Oak cleared his throat once, and the room snapped into attention like he'd flipped a switch.
"As you all know," he said, "your PTLE scores qualified you for League licensing. That alone is an achievement. However…" his gaze shifted slowly across the four of them, "…I'm not offering you 'alone.' I'm offering you sponsorship."
Gigi's chin lifted as if she'd been born sponsored. Leaf straightened anyway. Yellow's hands tightened on her strap. Ashlyn swallowed.
Oak continued, calm and matter-of-fact. "Sponsorship means support, resources, and access. It also means expectations. You will obey League law, including Kanto and the joint Kanto–Johto statutes. You will submit progress reports every fifteen days. Two missed reports, and the sponsorship is revoked."
"No exceptions?" Gigi asked, in a tone that implied she expected exceptions.
Oak's eyes flicked to her. "No exceptions."
Gigi's mouth pressed into a line. Leaf hid a grin behind her hand. Yellow blinked like she was trying to confirm she'd heard right.
Ashlyn just nodded once, hard. "Understood, Professor."
"Good." Oak turned and walked to the central table. "Now for the part you've all been thinking about since sunrise."
He opened a case set neatly on the tabletop.
Four Poké Balls sat in a row.
Not flashy collector shells. Not custom paint. Plain, regulation, polished like they were brand new.
But Ashlyn could still feel the weight of what they represented. The cost. The rarity. The way one decision could decide the first year of your life on the road.
Oak gestured with his open hand.
"Bulbasaur," he said, indicating the first ball. "Charmander. Squirtle." His finger moved to the fourth. "And Pikachu."
BOOM!
The sound wasn't just loud. It was violent. A concussive roar that punched through the lab like a living thing.
The front wall of the laboratory exploded inward.
Metal screamed as support beams twisted. Glass shattered in a glittering storm. A wave of heat and dust tore through the entrance hall, ripping display cases from the walls and flinging them across the polished floor. Alarms wailed to life instantly, red lights strobing as emergency shutters slammed down halfway before jamming against warped frames.
Ashlyn was thrown off her feet.
She hit the floor hard, the air ripped from her lungs as something heavy slammed nearby. Her ears rang, high and shrill, drowning out everything else for a heartbeat that felt too long.
Smoke poured in through the ruined entrance, thick and black, carrying the sharp stink of burning circuitry and scorched stone.
"Everyone down!" Professor Oak roared.
The calm was gone from his voice. What replaced it was iron.
Ashlyn pushed herself up on shaking arms, coughing. Her Pokédex skidded across the floor, sparks dancing along its edge before the emergency casing sealed. She crawled toward it on instinct, fingers closing around the familiar shape like a lifeline.
Across the room, Leaf had already dropped beside Bulbasaur's Poké Ball, one arm wrapped protectively around it. Her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp and focused.
Yellow had dropped to her knees, hands clamped over her ears, frozen in place.
Gigi wasn't frozen.
"What the hell was that?!" she shouted, scrambling to her feet, eyes wild.
Another explosion rocked the building.
This one closer.
The remaining section of the entrance wall buckled completely and collapsed inward with a deafening crash. Daylight poured in through the breach, cutting through the smoke like a blade.
And silhouetted in it was a single figure.
At first glance, he looked about their age.
He wore a black long-sleeved turtleneck, fitted black pants, and heavy boots built for travel rather than show. Over it all hung a loose pale argyle shirt, partially concealed beneath a navy hooded jacket marked with muted gray patterns across the sleeves.
His face was hidden behind a smooth white mask with two eyeholes. Beside the left hole, a carefully painted blue half note stood out sharply against the pale surface.
And then there were his gloves.
Black, fingerless, reinforced with spiked aurochs skin, old and unmistakably expensive. Set into the knuckles were three faintly glowing green gems, each one unmistakably a single-use healing spellstone. League agents didn't wear spellcraft openly, and criminals rarely had access to enchantments of that quality.
His hair spilled from beneath the hood in long, wild strands, black fractured by streaks of silver, crimson, and electric blue, like lightning had passed through it and left scars.
Professor Oak stepped forward, placing himself squarely between the intruder and the four trainees.
"Young man," Samuel Oak said, voice calm but edged with lethal authority, "you have until I count to five to—"
He never finished.
Oak's aura erupted outward in a violent surge, no longer restrained, no longer subtle. The air compressed under the force of it, slamming downward like a massive invisible weight. Floor tiles cracked and shattered beneath their feet, fractures racing outward in jagged patterns, while every remaining pane of glass in the lab burst apart simultaneously, exploding into shards that would have torn through the room if not for the crushing barrier Oak formed around the trainees.
Ashlyn was driven to one knee even through the shield, breath ripped from her lungs as pressure bore down on her. The building groaned in protest, metal screaming as supports warped under the sudden strain.
Samuel Oak himself did not so much as flinch.
His coat snapped violently in the turbulence, gray-streaked hair lifting as if caught in a storm, eyes blazing with a fury he rarely allowed to surface. His lab had been attacked. Not by Team Rocket, not by smugglers or opportunistic criminals, but by someone bold or foolish enough to challenge a former Champion of Kanto in his own domain.
And yet Oak's attention was not on the destruction.
It was on the teenager.
More specifically, on what was missing.
Where were his Pokémon?
The masked figure raised a single finger.
Samuel Oak's composure cracked for the first time as the entire roof was ripped free in a deafening scream of tearing metal. Sunlight flooded the lab in a blinding wave, immediately swallowed by the massive shadow that descended from above.
A dragon.
Not one Ashlyn recognized from any League database or broadcast footage.
It was enormous, serpentine, covered in overlapping obsidian scales etched with faintly glowing green lines that pulsed like veins beneath stone. Vast wings unfurled with a thunderous crack, and its eyes burned with an intelligence that felt wrong, too sharp, too deliberate.
Gigi stared up at it, fury cutting through her shock.
"What the hell is that?!" she roared, rounding on the stranger. "Who the fuck are you, and what the FUCK IS THAT?!"
The masked teen did not answer her.
Instead, he snapped his fingers.
The dragon's claw rose, energy gathering around it in a violent spiral, and then the attack stopped cold.
A massive orange-and-cream form slammed into the descending strike, the collision detonating in a shockwave that rippled outward and rattled the surrounding buildings. Professor Oak expanded his aura instantly, reinforcing the barrier around the trainees as debris and pressure battered against it.
Dragonite hovered in midair, wings beating steadily, eyes locked onto its opponent with unwavering focus.
Samuel Oak stood beneath it, unmoving.
"Samuel Oak," the masked teen said at last.
His voice was smooth and oddly musical, carrying an accent Oak had never heard before, yet one that somehow slipped easily into the ear. Against his will, Oak registered that it was far too pleasant for someone standing at the center of this chaos.
"Oh," Leaf murmured, a slow, unapologetic grin spreading across her face. "That voice—"
"Leaf," Oak said flatly, "do not."
The masked figure inclined his head slightly, as though acknowledging them.
"I am Kamadeva," he said. "The Mercenary of Wonder."
The dragon behind him shifted lazily, coils rolling as if the exchange of blows had been nothing more than a greeting.
"And I'm here for—"
He paused.
Then his mask turned, and the empty eyeholes settled directly on Ashlyn.
"To be your rival!"
Silence fell over what remained of the lab.
Ashlyn stared at him, brain stalling somewhere between explosion, dragon, and did he just say rival like this was a club signup?
"…What?" she said finally.
The masked teen didn't respond.
Instead, he turned his head slowly, deliberately, as though her question had been background noise, and fixed his attention on Gigi.
"Ah," he said, tone brightening with genuine interest. "You too appear to be a protagonist."
Gigi blinked. "Excuse me?"
He nodded to himself, satisfied, as though a hypothesis had just been confirmed. "Yes, that tracks. Strong presence, legacy connections, clear narrative tension. Excellent. This is better than expected."
Ashlyn frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He waved a hand vaguely between them, the wrecked lab, and the hole in the roof, like the answer should've been obvious. "I am voluntarily making your lives more complicated," he explained calmly, "because I believe it will be funny, meaningful, and ultimately good for your personal growth."
Leaf made a strangled sound that might've been laughter.
Gigi bristled. "You blew up my grandfather's lab."
"Oh, that part was in the plan. Your grandfather's lab is too small," he said quickly, almost apologetically. "Collateral enthusiasm remodel. Happens sometimes. I plan to file that under 'regrettable but educational.'"
Professor Oak stared at him like he was trying to determine whether this was a very elaborate joke or the most dangerous idiot he had ever met.
Ashlyn rubbed her temples. "You don't just get to decide you're our rival."
The teen considered that. Really considered it.
"Hm. That's fair," he admitted. "In a traditional sense, rivalry requires mutual consent."
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"However," he continued pleasantly, "this is a nontraditional context. So I've decided to proceed unilaterally."
Gigi spluttered. "That's not how anything works!"
"It works narratively," he said, thoughtful.
Yellow, who had been quiet until now, hugged Pikachu closer and whispered, "…I don't like him."
Pikachu nodded vigorously.
The masked teen looked genuinely pleased. "Ah! Emotional response already. Excellent pacing."
Ashlyn stared at him, incredulous. "You attacked one of the most powerful people in the region, dropped a dragon on us, and your takeaway is that this is character development?"
"Yes," he said simply. "For all of us."
Oak pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache forming behind his eyes. "Young man," he said slowly, "do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Then something Oak had said finally clicked in Ashlyn's brain.
"…Did you say remodel?" Oak asked, voice strained.
"YES! My good man!" Kamadeva snapped his fingers enthusiastically, turning and gesturing toward the gaping ruin where the front of the lab used to be. "Now, if you'll just look past the current state of the… ah… open-air aesthetic, you'll notice several glaring structural and regulatory issues."
Oak stared.
Ashlyn stared.
Gigi stared harder.
"You had code violations," Kamadeva continued helpfully. "Multiple. Load-bearing stress inconsistencies, outdated energy conduits, insufficient blast shielding for volatile Pokémon storage. Honestly, I was shocked the League hadn't already fined you."
Oak's eye twitched.
"My laboratory," he said through clenched teeth, "has passed every League inspection for the past thirty years."
"Oh, League inspections are a joke," Kamadeva waved off casually. "I meant actual safety standards."
Gigi made an incoherent noise. "You blew up the building!"
"Partially," Kamadeva corrected. "And only because your roof was a liability. Which, as you can see…" he pointed upward, where there was now very clearly no roof, "…has been resolved."
Leaf snorted before she could stop herself.
Oak shot her a look. She coughed and looked away.
"Young man," Oak said, voice dropping into something dangerous and exhausted at the same time, "before I do something I have not done in years, can you explain to me why my Tauros, Exeggutor, Arcanine, Charizard, Alakazam, Gyarados, and my Dragonite are not currently here?"
There was a beat.
Then Kamadeva gasped.
Not in fear.
In delight.
"Oh good," he breathed, clasping his hands together. "You noticed."
Ashlyn felt something in her soul curl up and accept its fate.
Yellow hesitated. The masked teen didn't sound malicious. If anything, he sounded… excited. For the first time since the explosion, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she'd judged him too harshly.
Kamadeva straightened, spreading his arms wide. "Because," he announced dramatically, "they are currently engaged in combat with my—"
Lightning cracked.
The lights flickered, then went out entirely.
Thunder rolled overhead as the sky outside darkened to an impossible twilight, clouds spiraling where clear noon skies had been seconds ago. A spotlight of pure, dramatic illumination snapped down onto Kamadeva from nowhere.
"—DECEPTIONS-INATOR!"
Music swelled.
Full orchestral. Choir included.
"…Where," Gigi said slowly, "did the music come from?"
"And why is it dark," Leaf added.
"And why do I hear violins," Ashlyn muttered.
Kamadeva beamed beneath the mask. "Ah! Thank you for asking."
Oak did not ask.
Kamadeva continued anyway.
"You see, Professor Samuel Oak, after careful consideration of your résumé, your Pokémon roster, and your frankly alarming lack of modern defensive infrastructure, I concluded that a field test was necessary."
Oak's eye twitched. Hard.
"My Pokémon," he said, very calmly, "are currently where?"
Kamadeva pointed upward, where distant flashes of light and rolling thunder suggested something extremely expensive was happening in the sky above Pallet Town.
"In a sealed, spatially folded combat arena," he explained cheerfully. "They cannot be here while the construction drones rebuild your ranch."
There was a pause.
"…The fuck?" Oak said.
All four girls whipped around to stare at him in synchronized shock.
Gigi's jaw dropped. Leaf's eyebrows shot up. Even Yellow blinked, startled, as if she'd just heard a legendary Pokémon swear.
Oak didn't notice their reactions. He was still staring at Kamadeva, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and the deep, aching exhaustion of a man who had lived too long.
"Construction," Oak repeated slowly. "Drones."
"Yes," Kamadeva said, nodding. "Autonomous, self-replicating, League-compliant, mostly, fabricators. Very efficient. Loud at first, but they settle into a pleasant hum after the third hour."
Oak pinched the bridge of his nose again. Harder this time.
"You summoned a dragon," he said, voice dangerously even. "You abducted my Pokémon. You violated at least twelve League statutes. And now you're telling me you've deployed construction drones onto my property?"
Kamadeva brightened. "Ah, you noticed the statutes! I was hoping someone would."
Ashlyn stared at him. "You're rebuilding his ranch?"
"Improving," Kamadeva corrected gently. "Reinforced foundations, upgraded containment wards, modernized energy routing, and this is important, proper roof support. The previous one was a tragedy waiting to happen."
Oak's eye twitched.
"My ranch," he said, "was built to withstand Dragonite landings."
"Yes," Kamadeva agreed. "But not two Dragonites landing simultaneously at high velocity while arguing."
There was a distant boom from above, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a Tauros bellow of victory.
Leaf swallowed. "…They're arguing?"
"Oh, absolutely," Kamadeva said. "Your Gyarados is very opinionated about battle formations."
Yellow hesitated, then raised her hand slightly. "Um… are they… okay?"
Kamadeva turned to her immediately, posture softening. "Perfectly fine. Mild bruising, elevated morale, significant growth in combat efficiency, and one Tauros learned a new maneuver that I think you'll find delightful."
Oak closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he looked… resigned.
"Why," he said softly, "are you doing this?"
Kamadeva answered immediately, as if he'd been asked the time.
"Because I'm here to steal your other Charmander and that shiny Eevee," he said pleasantly. "And since you're going to be very busy, you won't be able to stop me."
The lab went quiet.
"…What do you mean I'm too busy?" Oak asked slowly. "And another thing, young man, how on earth did you break into my safe?"
Kamadeva straightened. "Codebreaker-inator."
Oak opened his mouth, closed it, and then, remarkably, kept going like this was a normal conversation.
Kamadeva cut in, launching smoothly into explanation mode.
"You see, in a faraway place," he said casually, "black smog and acidic water coat crumbling structures along a city skyline. Alleys fester with crime, corruption, and poor urban planning. The once-vibrant region is now run by the deeply unprofessional and profoundly confused criminal organization known as Team Meteor."
Ashlyn blinked. "Team… what?"
"They're attempting to destroy the world using Legendary Pokémon," Kamadeva continued, as if discussing tomorrow's weather, "for reasons that are objectively very dumb."
Oak stared. "You broke into my safe because of that?"
"Oh no," Kamadeva waved a hand. "That's just context."
Gigi pinched the bridge of her nose. "I knew it."
Kamadeva continued cheerfully. "Anyway, Team Meteor recently joined forces with an equally dramatic 'evil guy dude' from the Holon region, and together they created what they call Delta Pokémon."
Yellow stiffened. "Delta… Pokémon?"
"Yes!" Kamadeva nodded. "Alternate typings. Unstable energy matrices. Extremely cool. Extremely dangerous. And extremely bad ethics, though."
He looked around the lab, hands on his hips, clearly pleased.
"Ah," he said. "It appears the construction is finished."
Everyone froze.
"…Construction?" Ashlyn repeated.
The dust settled.
And where there had once been shattered walls, dangling wires, and exposed steel, there was now a laboratory.
Not repaired.
Reborn.
The ceiling arched high overhead in sweeping curves of reinforced crystal alloy, sunlight filtering through it in soft, controlled bands. The walls gleamed with layered composite materials etched with faintly glowing runic circuitry that hummed with quiet power. Entire wings had been expanded outward, seamlessly integrated into the original structure as if they'd always been there.
New containment chambers lined one side, each larger, sturdier, and absurdly overengineered. Observation decks overlooked pristine research floors. Holographic displays floated gently in the air, already syncing with Oak's databases. Even the floor beneath their feet felt warmer, steadier, vibration-dampened and reinforced to survive things that really should not be landing indoors.
Outside the windows, Oak's ranch had transformed.
Pastures expanded into rolling, terraced fields with reinforced fencing and automated care systems. Aerial platforms hovered discreetly overhead. Training grounds had been carved into the earth with geometric precision, complete with adaptive terrain modules.
It was magnificent.
Leaf's mouth hung open. "…Okay, that's unfair."
Yellow whispered, "It's beautiful."
Oak said nothing.
He walked slowly to the nearest console, placed a hand on it, and felt the familiar hum of technology responding to his touch.
"…This is better than my original design," he muttered.
Kamadeva clasped his hands together, delighted. "Thank you! I kept your aesthetic but fixed the structural flaws. Also added seismic dampeners, dragon-proof roofing, emergency Legendary containment fields, and a coffee machine that actually works."
Oak's eye twitched. "…My coffee machine has been broken for years."
"Yes," Kamadeva said solemnly. "A tragedy."
Gigi rounded on him. "You can't just steal Pokémon!"
"Oh, I agree," Kamadeva said. "That would be wrong."
Everyone relaxed slightly.
"I am borrowing them," he continued, "for a morally ambiguous but ultimately productive side quest. Also, they needed snacks."
Ashlyn groaned. "Of course they did."
Kamadeva turned to Oak again. "The Charmander and the shiny Eevee will be returned. Stronger. Healthier. Emotionally fulfilled."
Oak stared at him for a long, long moment.
Then Oak exhaled, long and slow.
"Delta Pokémon," he said carefully. "Before I take anything you've said at face value—"
"As yes, Delta Pokémon," Kamadeva said, nodding eagerly. "A special classification of Pokémon whose typing and physical traits differ from their standard counterparts."
He paced a few steps, hands clasped behind his back like a lecturer enjoying his favorite slide.
"According to Professor Pine, they are believed to originate from the Holon region, though the precise cause of their existence remains unknown. Naturally, this ambiguity attracted exactly the wrong sort of people."
Gigi crossed her arms. "Of course it did."
"The Perfection cult," Kamadeva continued smoothly, "became particularly obsessed with them. Their goal, if you can call it that, was to obtain the perfect Pokémon. They believed Delta variants were inherently superior, and thus perfectly justified horrific experimentation in the name of science."
Yellow swallowed. Leaf's jaw tightened.
"Experiments conducted by Perfection scientists," Kamadeva went on, still using the same calm tone one might use to discuss soil quality, "were responsible for the creation of many Delta Pokémon now found in the Torren region."
Oak's eyes narrowed. "You're telling me this because…?"
"Oh, because I stole their files," Kamadeva said cheerfully. "And then burned down their labs."
There was a pause.
"…You what?" Ashlyn asked.
"I reviewed the documentation first," Kamadeva clarified, as if that made it better. "Extensive tests. Very unethical. Poor record-keeping, too. I corrected that by removing the records entirely."
Gigi stared. "You committed arson." She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Selective arson," Kamadeva said. "Educational arson."
Oak let out a long, slow breath. "And these tests?"
Kamadeva's tone softened. "They were not kind. Forced type inversion, unstable energy grafting, survival trials. Many subjects didn't make it. Those that did were… altered."
Silence settled over the lab.
"That," Oak said quietly, "is not something you gloss over."
Kamadeva nodded. "Which is why I didn't."
He looked around at them, mask unreadable, posture uncharacteristically still.
"I intervened. I removed their data, dismantled their infrastructure, and liberated what I could. The Delta Pokémon still exist, Professor, but the people trying to manufacture them no longer do."
Leaf frowned. "You just… decided to handle it?"
"Yes," Kamadeva said simply. "And now, with the DNA Fix-inator, they're perfectly stable and able to breed with regular Pokémon."
Oak's head snapped up. "You did what?"
Kamadeva waved the concern away. "Resolved genetic incompatibility, stabilized typing drift, corrected cellular rejection loops, and removed the whole 'slowly disintegrating' problem. Honestly, I'm shocked no one tried it sooner."
Oak didn't know what to say to that.
Kamadeva flicked his wrist.
A translucent holographic screen burst into existence above the central table, expanding outward in a fan of light. Data streams scrolled for half a second before locking into three rotating projections.
"Computer," Kamadeva said brightly, "show the trio of Delta Pokémon."
The projections sharpened.
The first was unmistakably a Charmander, but wrong in ways that made Ashlyn's breath hitch.
Its body was pale and half-translucent, edges blurring like mist caught in moonlight. Where warm orange scales should have been, there was something almost spectral, as if the Pokémon existed slightly out of phase with the world around it. The flame at the tip of its tail burned a soft violet-blue, drifting upward in slow, lazy curls instead of flickering, shedding cold light rather than heat.
Its eyes glowed faintly, empty of pupils, not hostile, but aware.
"Delta Charmander," Kamadeva said lightly. "Ghost–Dragon."
The projection shifted to the second figure.
A Bulbasaur, its body smaller and more delicate than expected, vines curling gently around it like living ribbons. Its bulb had transformed into a crystalline lotus bloom, glowing faintly with soft pastel light. Psychic sigils drifted lazily around it, appearing and fading like half-remembered thoughts. Its eyes were large, luminous, and aware.
"Delta Bulbasaur," Kamadeva continued. "Fairy–Psychic."
Yellow took a quiet step forward. "…It feels kind."
The third projection resolved with far less grace.
A Squirtle crouched low, shell dark and scarred, etched with jagged lines that glowed faintly crimson. Its eyes were sharp, focused, and aggressive in a way Ashlyn had never seen in a starter. Thick muscles packed its limbs, and its claws scraped against the holographic floor as it shifted its weight, ready to move.
"Delta Squirtle," Kamadeva finished. "Dark–Fighting."
Leaf let out a low whistle. "That one looks like it bites."
"Yes," Kamadeva said cheerfully. "First. Then asks questions."
The trio rotated slowly, side by side.
Ghost–Dragon.Fairy–Psychic.Dark–Fighting.
Ashlyn stared. "Those are… starters."
"Yes," Kamadeva agreed. "The original archetypes, corrected for imbalance."
Oak's voice was low. "You're telling me someone altered the foundational starter line."
"Yes," Kamadeva said. "And then tried to mass-produce the results very badly."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"I stabilized them. Fixed the DNA drift. Removed the self-destructive elements. They're healthy now. They can breed. They can grow. And they won't collapse halfway through evolution."
Oak closed his eyes for a long moment.
"This changes everything," he said quietly.
"Yes," Kamadeva replied. "That tends to happen when people stop pretending the system is perfect."
Ashlyn looked between the three projections, heart pounding.
"…And you brought them here."
Kamadeva nodded.
"I thought it was important for you to see what other 'paths' look like," he said. "Especially if they're going to live on the ranch with Oak integrating them into a new ecosystem."
Oak's head snapped up.
"…What."
Kamadeva lifted a finger, pleased the point had landed.
"Oh, that's why you're not going to stop me from stealing Nightstone and Solar Wind," he said matter-of-factly. "You're going to be far too busy learning about them."
He tapped the side of his mask.
"I've already transferred all Delta Pokémon data into your systems," he continued, like he was reading off a grocery list. "Full genetic models, stabilization protocols, long-term behavioral projections, ethical safeguards, failure cases, and three separate 'do not attempt this alone' warnings."
Oak's breath hitched despite himself. "You—"
"I also flagged the files so they cannot be copied, transmitted, or accessed remotely without your biometric authorization," Kamadeva added. "Because if the League gets hold of this without context, they will absolutely ruin it."
Silence.
Oak slowly turned toward the nearest console. The screen lit up on its own.
Directories were already opening.
Delta_StartersStability_Proof
Ecosystem_Integration_Models
Warnings_Read_This_First
Oak felt something cold settle in his stomach.
"…This is real," he murmured.
"Yes," Kamadeva said gently. "And now it's your responsibility."
Gigi stared at the screens. "You just dumped a paradigm shift on my grandfather and called it theft prevention."
Kamadeva smiled beneath the mask. "Exactly."
Ashlyn frowned. "You're really just… leaving?"
"Yes," he replied. "If I stayed, you'd argue. If I left, you'd study. Much more productive."
Oak turned back toward him, eyes sharp. "You planned this."
"Of course," Kamadeva said. "Chaos without structure is just noise."
He took a step backward, the air around him beginning to ripple again.
"The Delta starters will adapt," he added. "The ranch will adapt. And you, Professor Oak, will decide whether the League adapts with you or against you."
"Are you crazy?" Gigi and Ashlyn asked in unison, still trying to process today.
Kamadeva paused, then looked directly at them.
"That ladder you're all climbing," he said softly, "isn't the only way up."
Then he snapped his fingers.
The pressure vanished. The air settled. The hum of machines returned to normal.
Kamadeva was gone.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Finally, Oak exhaled and straightened, the weight of an entire future pressing onto his shoulders.
"…Everyone," he said quietly, eyes never leaving the screens, "you are not to speak of this outside this lab."
Gigi swallowed. Leaf nodded. Yellow hugged Pikachu closer.
Ashlyn stared at the data scrolling past, heart pounding.
Her journey hadn't even started.
And already, the world had changed.