Alex woke in an unfamiliar bed, a throbbing headache screaming in his skull before his eyes even opened.
"Oh, you finally woke up," a feminine voice said.
Alex's eyes flicked open slowly, noting the source: a young woman in a sundress. His attention, though, went first to the clock, 2 AM. Only then did he return his gaze to the girl, expression neutral.
"How many days?"
"Three," she replied. "By the way, how did you faint? Grandpa didn't tell me."
Recognition sparked. Daisy Oak. Granddaughter of Professor Oak. And, according to the local gossip, the region's 'beauty.' Alex didn't care about gossip, only facts.
He swung his legs off the bed, snatched his school blazer from the chair, and slipped it on. As he moved toward the door, Daisy blocked him.
"Grandpa said he wants to talk to you about a 'pristine opportunity'"
"Where is he?"
"Busy. You think he has time for everyone?" Her tone carried a trace of bitterness, but Alex ignored it. He pulled a pen and a slip of paper from his pocket, scribbled his number, and handed it to her.
"Call me when the professor has time."
He tried to pass, but she pressed further.
"What's your deal? Most of the crazy ones are usually over 20, and you look… eight. Why so serious?"
Alex glanced over his shoulder. She was curious, not malicious. He answered bluntly.
"When you have no one to rely on, you either break or become stronger. I've always been alone. Everything I've achieved is mine alone."
He closed the door, leaving her with her questions. In his small home, he pulled out an ice pack, surveyed the fridge, and prepared a late-night meal—enough for two, though he ate alone. Food was never a priority; he'd hunted enough in the forest to know which Pokémon were edible.
Later, at the sound of his phone, Alex sprang into motion. "Hello, this is Alexander Creed," he answered.
"Mr. Oak has asked for your presence in his lab at noon."
Time snapped into focus: 11:45. A ten-minute walk, a quick breakfast, a black-and-red hunting outfit. By 11:55, he arrived, composed and precise, and stepped into the lab. Oak and Daisy awaited him.
"Hello, Alex. I called you here to give you your reward."
"Is this reward… specified?" Alex's tone remained flat, emotionless.
Oak chuckled. "Any questions before I show you?"
"When do I start?"
"The project officially begins in one month and eight days. You'll turn eight in ten days—perfect timing to prepare with your starter Pokémon."
Alex nodded, expression unreadable. "And incentives? Restrictions?"
"Same as any trainer. Only carry your ID; your age might raise eyebrows."
He didn't ask more. Oak gestured toward the massive open space behind the lab. Hundreds of Pokémon were present, but Alex's eyes locked on the small cave radiating heat: a Warning.
Oak's voice cut through: "Inferno."
The roar tore through the lab like a detonating mountain. Alex's stomach sank, his legs burned, but his eyes didn't waver. From the cave, Inferno emerged, ten feet of muscle and scales, a living war scarred across centuries, heat shimmering off its body like the edge of a forge. The floor beneath Alex's feet seemed to pulse with the intensity of the Charizard's presence. Every sane instinct screamed for retreat. He didn't care.
Inferno stepped forward, and the air itself seemed to split, scorching, roaring, bending around its claws. One massive forelimb swung toward Alex's throat, stopping an inch away. The heat was unbearable, a wave that could melt steel. And Alex leaned forward, head tilted slightly, like he was reading a book. Not bravado; curiosity. Not defiance; calculation.
A faint grin brushed his lips. His heart wasn't racing, yet every nerve screamed with exhilaration. He could feel the sheer potential in that claw, the weight of the power contained in those scars and every blow it had survived. And he wanted it. Wanted to see just how far he could push, how close he could stand to annihilation before bending it to his will.
The flame in Inferno's mouth flared brighter, and the boy's jacket fluttered like the wings of a storm, but his stance never wavered. His fingers twitched subtly, as if itching for the chaos, the collision of force and will. A small flicker of movement, a heartbeat of anticipation and he didn't flinch, didn't blink. He had no illusions. He knew exactly how small he was. And he didn't care.
Then a newborn Charmander appeared in Inferno's arms, tossed like a sparrow into Alex's hands. He caught it instinctively, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied it, as if weighing the promise of fire in a fragile body against the weight of the challenge behind it. The heat, the roar, the scars, all of it was background. He only saw the path forward.