My nakamas, I want to inform you about something important regarding the story Chronicles 📖🔥
Officially, the novel has 1,467 chapters (it may vary by one chapter more or less, but it is definitely over 1,450).
Starting from chapter 1373, which is now translated directly by me, we are moving in exact sequence with the original version.
Now comes the serious part… and a slightly chaotic one 😅 From chapter 1374 of the original, each chapter in Chinese has around 8,000 words. When translated, depending on the content, they end up being between 3,000 and 6,000 words in either Spanish or English.
To maintain a good translation pace and, above all, quality, I made the decision to split those chapters. The goal is for each published chapter to have approximately 900 to 1,200 words.
So, where will we actually end up chapter-wise?
👉 I honestly don't know.
And yes… we are sailing through uncharted territory 🌊🧭.
I tried translating them without splitting, but to be completely honest, the result was a monumental disaster: I kept getting lost and felt that even after hours of work, I made no real progress. On top of that, it wasn't comfortable to read and didn't do justice to the story.
So, for everyone's sake (and for my own mental health), I've decided to stick with this format, just as you saw in the chapters uploaded today.
Thank you for your patience, your support, and for continuing to accompany me on this journey.All of this is done so that Chronicles maintains the level it truly deserves 💪🔥
CAMPAI 🥂
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In the alternate space.
Cain watched calmly as his Pokémon trained.
Off to the side, Erick—his wounds already treated—was still sleeping deeply.
Mismagius stood beside him.
Creating dreams wasn't just a skill Mismagius practiced; it was also a form of training in itself.
Under Cain's conscious guidance over the past few days, Mismagius had managed to make the construction of dreams more and more natural and coherent. Almost no flaws or inconsistencies appeared anymore.
If conditions allowed, Mismagius could even keep a person living inside a dream for their entire lifetime—so long as their real body survived long enough in the outside world.
And since Cain was present in that alternate space, he obviously wouldn't allow Erick to die there.
Two days had passed outside, but inside the dream, Erick had practically lived half a lifetime.
A life in the lowest strata of the Pokémon World, struggling in misery under the shadow of the League.
As a mere commoner, humbly and disadvantageously facing the sons of powerful families—the direct descendants of the League.
To change one's fate, they had to pay a price far greater than the privileged ever would.
Sometimes, they even had to risk their lives trying to forcibly capture a weak and low-potential Pokémon—like some ordinary Bug-type—just to get started.
But that path was almost always a dance with death.
Recklessly entering forests full of wild Pokémon usually meant ending up as prey. And even if they were lucky enough to find a weak Bug-type, a Pokémon was still a Pokémon: human flesh couldn't withstand even their most basic powers.
A single dose of venom was enough to end a life.
Meanwhile, the children of wealthy families could obtain a Pokémon simply by asking for one.
What was easy for them was an unattainable luxury for a commoner.
And even if by luck a commoner managed to capture one, without the resources to train it, sooner or later it would be easily defeated by the heirs' Pokémon.
For a commoner to reach the position Cain now held, two things were essential: exceptional talent and miraculous luck. Without both, it was impossible.
That was why, throughout the League, most positions were controlled by those born into influential families.
They were born into privilege, benefited from it, and when they grew up, were bound to repay that investment.
Thus began a vicious cycle.
The powerful families became even more powerful, while commoners had fewer and fewer opportunities to stand out.
And even if one of them did manage to rise, sooner or later they'd be recruited by a family and end up becoming one of them.
Who then remembered that they had once been a commoner?
It was in that context that organizations like Team Rocket emerged as a glimmer of hope.
After all, capturing a wild Pokémon on one's own was a gamble with death. Joining Team Rocket was also a gamble with death. So why not do it there—where at least the starting point was higher and resources were available?
It was better than crashing like a helpless insect, unable ever to find an entrance.
In Team Rocket, that door was clearly marked.
Didn't they know that joining Team Rocket meant opposing the League?
That they would become criminals, doomed to live forever in the shadows?
Yes, they knew.
But there was no other way out.
Erick's dream had been created based on Cain's past life, with some modifications.
To join Team Rocket was to truly understand life in the lowest layers of Pokémon society.
When the dream ended, Mismagius obediently returned to Cain's shadow.
"Mmm..." Erick held his head and slowly sat up.
He opened his eyes little by little, his original memories flooding back all at once.
He remembered how he'd been beaten by the Team Magma members, fighting until he passed out.
"Is this... hell?" he murmured, looking at the gray walls around him.
His eyes reflected conflicting emotions.
The dream he'd just lived had been so real that it truly felt like he'd experienced it.
"Commoners... Team Rocket..." he repeated in his mind.
At the end of that dream, he had clearly felt the closeness of death.
"This isn't hell," Cain's voice sounded behind him.
Erick flinched and turned around instantly, on guard.
"Cain!" he exclaimed in surprise.
The young man smiled. "You finally woke up. I had to go through a lot to save you. I almost got wiped out by Maxie."
"Maxie..." Erick repeated, recalling everything that had happened.
"You were the one who rescued me from his hands?" he asked, incredulous.
"Didn't you see it yourself?" Cain replied with a faint curl of his lips.
It was then that Erick noticed his body was wrapped in multiple layers of white bandages. His wounds had improved considerably. Though moving still hurt, they were no longer serious.
He immediately thought of his Pokémon... and also recalled the dream, where he had treated them as mere tools. A shadow of sadness crossed his eyes.
"My... Pokémon..." he whispered.
He wasn't sure if he was referring to the ones in the present or those in the dream.
"Here they are," said Cain, showing him a tray with six Poké Balls neatly arranged.
At the sight of them, Erick couldn't contain his emotions.
His hands trembled as he took them. Through the transparent glass windows of each Poké Ball, he could see that his Pokémon were relatively well.
"I already treated them. Don't worry," added Cain.
Erick looked at him with a mix of feelings.
All the words he wanted to say condensed into a single phrase: "Thank you."
Cain waved his hand dismissively and began recalling his own Pokémon into their Poké Balls.
"No need. But we're not safe yet. Now that you're awake, get ready—we need to retreat."
"Retreat? To where? The League? I... don't think I can go back," Erick replied, his face growing darker.
He remembered the last time he spoke with Drake. He had asked how he could change the course of the League, and the old man's expression had been complicated, tinged with doubt toward him.
As a spy, Erick knew how to read those looks: Drake no longer fully trusted him. And he himself... had begun to feel disappointed in the League.
The peace he once admired was not the same as that shallow peace the League showed the public, while secretly hiding turmoil beneath.
He was lost.
"You won't return to the League? Then where? Team Magma? You can't go back there either," Cain said, frowning.
Erick shook his head.
"I don't know..."
Suddenly, as if remembering something, he looked at Cain intently.
"Cain, you—being a commoner—what did you go through to get this far?"
(End of chapter)