[Target: Machop]
[Type: Fighting]
[Gender: Male]
[Level: 21 (Normal Grade)]
[Ability: No Guard (All moves used by or against this Pokémon will never miss, even if hitting a teammate. It is an extremely dangerous double-edged sword.)]
[IV Evaluation: A (Outstanding, especially in Attack and Speed. Far exceeds his peers.)]
Seeing this, Miles had to admit the muscular man was right; this was indeed a top-tier Machop.
If one ignored the rest of the data, this would be the dream starter for countless rookie Trainers.
However, as Miles's gaze drifted lower to the two shocking [Fate Entries] hidden beneath the basic stats, his pupils shrank.
The smile vanished from his face, replaced by unprecedented solemnity.
[God-Level Insight: Deep Analysis]
[Potential Level: Gym Grade]
[Current Status: Violent and Irritable (His adrenaline secretion is three times that of a normal Pokémon, making him exceptionally short-tempered. He deeply despises having his head or back touched. Once triggered—such as being forced to do chores or hearing a nickname he dislikes—he will vent his frustration through extreme violence.)]
[Fate Entry (Black): Born with an Anti-bone (A naturally treacherous and rebellious disposition. This Pokémon is extremely self-centered and fiercely hates taking orders. In his eyes, a weak master is only fit to be a weighted punching bag. His so-called "obedience" is merely him waiting to reach his breaking point.)]
Reading this, Miles knew exactly what was going on.
This was no "loyal partner"; this was a powder keg ready to blow.
Machop didn't want to be a son; he wanted to be the boss.
Miles retracted his gaze. He wasn't about to read these System-exclusive tags out loud. Are you kidding? If he just blurted out, "I have a System that says your Pokémon has a rebellious tag," he'd be dragged off to a lab and sliced up for research.
As a streamer, he needed packaging. The more mysterious he sounded, the more people would believe him.
Clearing his throat, Miles adjusted his posture.
A profound, unfathomable expression settled over his features. He even narrowed his eyes slightly, perfectly mimicking the aura of an old fortune-teller predicting fate under a highway overpass.
"Brother," Miles's voice suddenly turned icy.
Even through the screen, his solemn tone caused the livestream's atmosphere to freeze.
"You've been raising this Machop for about a year, haven't you?"
Iron-Blooded Iron Lifter blanked for a second, nodding instinctively. "Yeah, exactly a year and three months. Why?"
"Then have you noticed anything off about the way he looks at you lately?" Miles pointed at the Machop on the screen, his tone eerie. "Especially when your back is turned to him, or when you order him around... Have you heard him letting out a low growl, almost like he's grinding his teeth?"
The muscular man on the other side of the screen froze. The mocking words he had prepared caught in his throat.
"How... how did you know?" he stammered, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes as the realization hit. "He has been a little temperamental lately. Sometimes he gets annoyed when I just ask him to pass me a water bottle. But as for the teeth grinding... isn't that normal for a Machop? He's probably just teething or needs more chew toys, right?"
"Normal?" Miles sneered, shaking his head. "Brother, I think all that weightlifting has rotted your brain. Do you know anything about physiognomy?"
"Look at your Machop. The whites of his eyes are overly visible, and his pupils are small. This is a classic 'Sanpaku eyes' facial structure. Now look at his jawline. It bulges outward. In face-reading, this is called 'gills behind the head'—commonly known as the bone of rebellion! He's not grinding his teeth; he's sharpening his knife!"
Raising his voice, Miles spoke with absolute, unquestionable certainty: "A Pokémon with these facial features is born with a violent, egocentric personality. He isn't your bodyguard; he thinks he's your master! The only reason he hasn't attacked you yet is because he still finds it convenient that you provide food and water. But the day you actually piss him off... believe me, he won't hesitate to beat you into a pulp."
Though these claims were entirely based on the System's deductions, Miles's "fortune-telling" delivery painted them with a layer of convincing mysticism.
The stream chat instantly exploded.
[Viewer "FawnInTheWoods": Rebellious bone? Sanpaku eyes? NAHH bro is cooking, I actually got goosebumps. Ngl that Machop really does look psycho.]
[Viewer "RiceSnatcher": Chat is this real? Streamer doing face-reading now? Ain't Machop supposed to be super loyal? My whole worldview is shattered rn.]
Iron-Blooded Iron Lifter had initially been spooked by Miles's eerie accuracy, but seeing the chat blowing up in discussion, his wounded pride instantly overpowered his rationality.
"Bullshit!" The muscular man's face flushed crimson, feeling like he was being played by this amateur streamer. "What rebellious bone? What Sanpaku eyes? That's all superstitious garbage! I hatched this Machop from an egg! We're as close as father and son!"
"When I lift weights, he always spots me. How could he ever attack me? Even if you lent him the guts, he wouldn't dare!"
The more the man spoke, the more agitated he became.
Desperate to prove his unbreakable "father-son bond" with Machop—and eager to slap Miles across the face—he made a move that made Miles's eyelids twitch wildly.
"Machop! Come here!" the man barked, carelessly turning his completely defenseless back to the Pokémon.
He pointed to a heavy dumbbell on the floor and commanded him with a bossy tone, "Show this idiot streamer how tight we are! Pick up that dumbbell, we're doing a set of squats!"
As if that wasn't enough, he reached out to pat Machop on the head, muttering, "Hurry up, son. Don't embarrass your old man!"
"Don't move! Do not touch his head!!"
Miles roared into the microphone. His voice was so loud it startled the finger-licking Munchlax beside him.
Within Miles's field of vision, the red status bar hovering above Machop's head—[Violent and Irritable]—flashed a violent purple-red the moment he heard the word "son" and saw that hand reaching for his skull.
The black [Born with an Anti-bone] fate entry flickered frantically as if detonating.
In Machop's logic: 'What the hell are you? You think you're fit to be my father? You dare touch my head?'
Boom!
It felt as if something had snapped in Miles's mind.
On the screen, the supposedly "quiet" Machop lost his patience the very instant his master's hand brushed the top of his head.
It was a moment of pure, offended fury. Machop's brow furrowed deeply, hot air blasted from his nostrils, and an incredibly human-like, impatient sneer twisted the corner of his mouth.
He didn't pick up the dumbbell.
Machop's muscles instantly bulged. He violently swung his right arm in a wide arc, the limb glowing with a harsh, pale-white light.
Move: Karate Chop!
But instead of aiming for a lethal strike to the spine like an assassin, he acted like an enraged gangster, aiming a vicious, full-force chop squarely at the annoying lower back and glutes swaying right in front of his face!
"Cha!!"
A furious, ear-piercing roar of utter annoyance echoed through the screen.