Reaching the Apex (Pokémon SI)

[PatrikWriter]

Disclaimer: Pokémon and all associated characters, locations, and names are the intellectual property of Nintendo, Game Freak, and The Pokémon Company. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made from its publication.

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After spending the weekend playing Pokémon Revolution with my girlfriend, I felt inspired to kick off a new project. A lot of current fics follow established champions and elite trainers, but I've really been missing that gritty, 'from the ground up' realistic journey. I wanted something a bit darker that follows the climb from zero to the very top – and that's exactly what this is. ​

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I woke up with a sharp intake of breath. I immediately tried to bolt out of bed, but a split second later, my head slammed into the steel structure above me, which held a lamp.

"Fuck! God damn it!" I barked, swearing like a sailor.

Besides the excruciating headache—as if someone were hammering directly into my temples—I had physically injured myself. Groaning, I felt my forehead and could already feel a lump beginning to swell.

"Just what I needed," I thought bitterly.

A moment later, however, I began to look around in confusion. It was a room that felt both foreign and familiar at the same time. On one hand, I was one hundred percent sure I had never been here in my life. On the other, my memory was feeding me images of working here regularly, cleaning up to earn some Pokédollars.

"Pokédollars? What the fuck...?" I whispered, paralyzed.

Suddenly, a chilling laugh and the blood-red eyes of a massive monster surfaced in my mind. It looked like some deformed dragon, like a Digimon from the cartoons I watched as a kid.

"Digimon? What is wrong with me?" I cursed again.

The confusion in my head grew, and the pain became unbearable. I pressed my fingers hard into my temples in a futile attempt to find relief, but to no avail. My vision began to darken. The last thing I sensed was falling back onto the hard mattress.

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Knock, knock, knock.

An annoying banging on the door woke me. I would have preferred to keep sleeping, but after the third hit, the hinges moved with a faint creak. I reluctantly opened my eyes, and in that second, it clicked.

It wasn't just that I recognized the person who entered the room from the cartoons of my childhood. It was mainly the realization that the uncrowned king of this city was standing before me. My head was a terrible mess; two sets of memories were slowly weaving together.

On one hand, I saw him as a Champion on the back of a majestic Dragonite or Charizard—always smiling in that adorable, sweet world of Pokémon. But this was no cartoon. Professor Oak wasn't animated, and he certainly wasn't smiling.

He was a tall man with brown hair already mirrored by the silver of grey strands and a beard. Instead of a kind gaze, he had a serious, almost stern expression. He was the former ruler of Kanto, and I had been slaving away for him on part-time jobs for the last five years to save up for gear for my own journey.

Here, too, my memories diverged drastically. In the stories, some guy named Ketchup overslept and still got a special Pokémon "just because." He set off into the world without a care. In reality, however, they constantly emphasized in school that this was the worst thing an inexperienced person could do.

Even the best-bred starter is lethally dangerous to a trainer unless they break it in. Sure, grass types tend to be milder and non-confrontational, but a Charmander is a born warrior—many a rookie has perished under its attack on the very first day. After receiving a Pokémon, a person had to train with the creature and achieve harmony for at least a week before even leaving the city gates for the wilderness.

The reason was simple: a Pokémon had to obey every word, or the trainer ended up in the morgue. And the leadership of the Kanto region, like any other state, wanted successful and powerful trainers, not corpses in the grass.

The statistics were relentless: nearly half of the trainers who set out on a journey died before completing it. The goal of the journey was different for everyone. For some, it was enough to earn four badges, which allowed them to get hired by a company requiring capable protectors for a good salary.

A trainer's career was royally paid but extremely dangerous. You head out to sea? A pack of water Pokémon ambushes you and, in the best-case scenario, drowns you. In the worst, they feed you alive to their young. Traveling through a forest? One moment of inattention, one poisonous quill, and without an antidote, both you and your Pokémon die in convulsions while carnivorous predators already sharpen their teeth for you. You aren't even safe in the air—a Fearow can shoot you down before you even notice it.

A soft cough snapped me out of my grim thoughts.

"Professor," I greeted him curtly and immediately blurted out a question: "What happened?"

Oak studied me thoughtfully, curiosity showing in his stern face. "I assume that the gift... or the curse of your lineage has just awakened within you," he spoke after a while.

I immediately gasped for air. I was an orphan; I had grown up in an orphanage in Pallet Town since I was a child. I always thought my parents were some drug addicts who, with the last shred of goodness in their hearts, preferred to leave me at the home rather than sell me into slavery on the black market.

"What? Lineage? What lineage? What are you talking about?"

Lineages in the Pokémon world were noble and ruled cities and society as a whole. Kanto was controlled by eight powerful families, most of whom also had the battle gyms under their thumb. These families recruited trainers themselves as mercenaries who carried out their orders—from business protection and road guarding to personal security. They basically did everything.

For example, Brock Harrison from Pewter City or Lance Blackthorn from Blackthorn City were well-known. Some families, or clans in the case of ninjas, were incredibly powerful. It was therefore impossible for me to be a member of any of them. If that were the case, I wouldn't have had to scrub Oak's dirty rooms just to earn money for gear and food!

I saw his shoulders grow slightly heavy and his lips tighten into a saddened grimace. If I hadn't known him, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. But I did know him, and my second set of memories gave me enough experience with people and reading non-verbal communication. While I was an introvert, my other self was a pure extrovert and quite old.

"You are fifteen, so I will tell you at least what I can," he began in a low, serious voice. "Your family is powerful, but due to wars and cowardly assassinations, you are the last two members left." He paused for a moment but immediately continued. "The current leader of the lineage decided to hide you in safety, right here in my town. Nothing happens here without me knowing, and so, with a little help, I have watched over you for all these years."

"What lineage is it, and what gift or curse has afflicted me?" I asked with undisguised fear in my voice.

"Unfortunately, I cannot reveal that to you. I had to promise to keep their identity anonymous for your own safety. The leader of your lineage will find you himself only when you are powerful enough to protect yourself," he cleared his throat and continued: "I don't know exactly what it is. I only know that an old friend of mine passed out at the same age you are now. For a while after that, he acted strangely and sometimes called it a gift or a curse. He never confided in me with more detail; it was a family secret."

I knew I shouldn't confide my thoughts or the memories of my other self. It would be useless, and it was actually my greatest advantage. I was getting lost in my thoughts. I thought I was just ordinary Patrik from Pallet Town, but in the end, just before my journey, I find out that I have a family out there and we are in danger. And the only thing stopping me from reaching them is that I have to be more powerful?

I was extremely determined to choose Charmander immediately and grow stronger. Charizard will burn all danger to ash, and I will finally be powerful enough to be with my family. While the other Patrik had his family and experienced them in good times and bad, I had felt my whole life that something was missing. Every time I walked through town and saw families with children getting ice cream or at the cinema...

"Professor, when can I choose my Charmander? As soon as possible?" I asked, full of determination and fire.

Oak forced a smile, and I began to suspect something was wrong. "You cannot choose Charmander, Patrik," he paused for a moment and continued: "Already..."

I immediately cut him off: "What do you mean? I studied and slaved away at school for years to get the best points and grades! It's not fair at all! Am I going to get some ordinary Rattata now?!" I shouted.

The standard procedure was that in Kanto schools, a certain number of the top students could choose special starters—Charmander, Squirtle, or Bulbasaur. Others had the chance to choose from completely common captured Pokémon, which were from the wild and thus harder to tame. Furthermore, these Pokémon tended to be weak, with low potential, and you never knew what their personality would be like.

Special starters immediately increased the chance of success, which is why so many beginners tried to reach the highest level possible. Personally, I finished third out of everyone and should have had the right of choice. And now this asshole tells me it was all for nothing?!

With a nervous smile, he wrung his hands before finally putting them into the pockets of his white coat. "You studied for years so that you would know what you are doing, Patrik. That will serve you well on your journey. Unfortunately, you cannot choose a Pokémon. Already when I took charge of you, a Pokémon had been chosen for you by your lineage." With a fluid motion, he pulled out an ordinary Pokéball and handed it to me.

"Since it's from my lineage, it can't be a weak Pokémon," I thought with interest.

"Wait, since my birth?!" I blurted out after a moment. "That Pokémon must be quite old by now."

He shook his head in disagreement and answered sternly: "Think, you didn't study for nothing!" he immediately reprimanded me.

It took me a moment before it clicked. Most Pokémon lived as long as humans, except for bugs, which lived shorter lives, and ghosts, who lived substantially longer—until they decided to leave this world themselves.

He saw that I understood, so he gestured for me to release the Pokémon. I didn't wait and immediately pressed the Pokéball twice. With the first press, it enlarged, and with the next, a red beam shot out, in which a Pokémon appeared.

"Gastly..." I whispered.

A large black levitating ball appeared with two prominent eyes and a wide grin. A deep purple gas floated around it. Poison.

"This Gastly is above average; it's about a third larger than common individuals. Also, if you notice the shade of the gas, it is ready to evolve into Haunter. Expect it to happen any moment now," he paused for a while and then added with a smile: "He has waited for you for a long time, Patrik."

"Gastly! Gastly!" the ball of gas cried out and nodded with a wide smile in a sign of agreement.

Honestly, I wanted a Charmander. My other self preferred it too, although he didn't know Pokémon very well—except for a few childhood scenes. His impressions and memories were completely off. Especially those where Pokémon were just cute little animals. I mean, they are literally called Pocket MONSTERS. Every other minute, there are reports on the news about some city having to fend off an attack from wild packs. Death and destruction. Only Pallet had a great position; waterfalls at the back prevented the arrival of powerful water types, and the front had a forest with weaker Pokémon that were completely deterred by Oak's legendary Pokémon.

After a moment, I nodded with a smile and said thanks. Gastly looked extremely friendly and obedient. Ghosts were relatively human-like, even though they fed on dreams and emotions, so if they listened, they were great helpers. Also, a Haunter could hide in my shadow, which meant I would be safe with him.

Before I knew it, Oak vanished from the room like steam over a pot. I was left there alone with Gastly.

"Gastly, are you ready for some hard training?" I asked him.

"Gastly!" he nodded enthusiastically.

"Will you obey my every word?"

His smile froze for a second, but then, with slightly less enthusiasm, he nodded again.

"And if you don't like something, will you let me know somehow?"

"Gastly!" he agreed immediately.

I nodded satisfactorily. I had a week to find out his strengths and weaknesses. By the time I get ready for the journey, buy everything necessary, my career as a trainer will begin. I didn't intend to underestimate anything.

I immediately began to get up. I recalled Gastly back into the Pokéball, and when I felt I had everything, I set out on the way to the orphanage. I needed to sort out my thoughts because I still felt like an unnatural, weird mix of two personalities.

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While according to the cartoon, Pallet Town only had four houses, in reality, it was a smaller city with approximately fifteen thousand inhabitants. So it took me a good half hour to get from Oak's lab to the orphanage. While in his world, orphanages were old and dilapidated, in ours, they were maintained, renovated, and generously funded. A high percentage of orphans tried their luck as trainers. Most children in the homes were actually the offspring of trainers. And how did that happen?

Quite simply. Bloody regional wars and a multitude of dangerous Pokémon took a heavy toll on the population. Trainers were needed. Since many people died in Pokémon attacks, everyone wanted to enjoy life to the fullest. Morals were quite loose, at least regarding nudity and sexuality. If you could die tomorrow, wouldn't you enjoy an evening full of passion? Moreover, contraception didn't exist in this world... It only took a few trainers dying, and the orphanages were immediately full.

It was relatively free here, at least compared to those other memories. While it seemed natural to me that we shared showers with girls and knew everything about sex, in his world, it was quite conservative. In our world, a person became an adult immediately upon turning fifteen, and some people already had their own children at that age.

As soon as I arrived at my room, I stripped and, with only a towel, headed to the shower. I needed to get myself together and sort out my thoughts. As soon as I entered, I noticed I wasn't alone. A completely naked woman stood in front of the mirrors. She was looking at herself, lifting her breasts with her slender palms and casting seductive glances at the mirror.

"Lily," I greeted matter-of-factly.

She immediately flinched in surprise, but as soon as she saw me, she smiled coquettishly: "Patrik! Sweetie, how are you?"

If you're wondering who Lily is, honestly—she's my childhood crush. I've been in love with her since I was a kid and imagined we'd be together. While I clung to her and hoped she'd return my feelings, she secretly mocked me. She made jokes about my shyness while heartlessly sleeping with anyone and everyone. She was gorgeous: cold blue eyes, full red lips, a flat stomach, and wide hips. Added to that were large round breasts and curly blonde hair. She was simply perfect, like an angel—except for that personality.

Only yesterday, I would have thought she was glad to see me, but with the rush of new memories, I noticed how she looked at me with disdain and mockery. It was a gift; thanks to it, a shy introvert had become a bold and experienced extrovert. With a mocking smile, I replied:

"Great, Lily. Are you going to keep whoring around, or has someone already fucked you today?"

She looked at me in shock. She was used to my red cheeks and eyes fixed on the ground. Under other circumstances, I would have shakily stuttered some answer, but now? While she stood there in shock, I walked over to the transparent shower stall. I pulled off my towel and, just as God made me, I started showering in front of her.

After a while, I only heard her slam the door loudly. The bathroom was finally mine alone.

"A beautiful whore, but the whole town has probably had her already," I said to myself out loud.

While my original self was still a virgin, my second set of memories already had some experience. So if an opportunity arises, why not? Of course, training comes first!

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Author's note:
What can you expect from this story? Pokémon catching, gritty battles, and world-building with a unique system—no IVs like in the games. This is a more realistic take on the Pokémon world, featuring adult themes, the criminal underworld of Team Rocket, and the influence of money and power. I hope you
enjoy the ride!

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