Quicksand Team was a second-rate organization.
It was nothing like Team Rocket, the colossal criminal syndicate that spanned several regions.
As a result, its recruitment process wasn't nearly as thorough or organized—in fact, it was downright crude.
And far more dangerous than Team Rocket's evaluations.
"Your task is simple. Deep in the mine, there are fragments of jade deposits. Retrieve any piece of jade, regardless of shape, and bring it back to me. You have until sunrise tomorrow."
A burly man with a gruff voice held up a piece of white jade and shouted to the crowd of grunts before him. Beside him stood a Donphan, snorting low and heavy, like an armored war elephant ready to charge.
Not far away—
A cluster of abandoned mine shafts gaped open, their depths unfathomable, exuding a damp, claustrophobic chill. The stench of dust assaulted everyone's nostrils.
"Ugh, these abandoned shafts again? People die in there."
"Of course they do. What were you expecting? Nobody maintains those tunnels anymore. Two guys died in there just last year."
"What if I can't find any jade in the deeper sections?"
"Can I just dig outside and hope for the best?"
"You should be worrying about making it out alive. I heard there are Pokémon in there that'll attack you!"
"No way…"
In the middle of the murmuring crowd, Ayato instinctively touched the iron ingot hidden beneath his shirt.
This thing wasn't hard to get in Pyrite Town. As a Quicksand Team grunt, all he had to do was speak to someone at the smelting plant, and he'd gotten it with no fuss.
He was mainly curious to see how it would come into play later.
During yesterday's second simulation, his fixed trait hadn't changed. But among the selectable traits, "Hot-Blooded Youth" had been replaced with a new one—[Never Abandon (You won't abandon your Pokémon)].
Still reeling from the mess caused by [Endless Romance], this time he deliberately chose [Clumsy (Poor Pokémon health management)].
And just like that, he started off as the classic Youngster with a Rattata in Pewter City. His progress was no smoother than the Bug Catcher's—his Gym battles were driven purely by guts and luck. The only difference was… he kept catching the same types of Pokémon.
Like multiple Rattata, and… well, more of the same.
If you thought he was picking out stronger individuals, forget it—this Youngster gave all his Pokémon equal attention, rotating them in and out of training and battles. The result? His team's overall strength barely increased, and progress became painfully slow.
So even without the distraction of a girlfriend, he barely made it to the sixth Gym before hitting a wall. Eight matches, eight defeats.
Even in pixelated form, Ayato could tell the kid's mental state was collapsing. By the time the Indigo Conference began, he was still stuck at the sixth Gym.
Still didn't make it to the Conference. Ayato sighed in exasperation, chose the rewards [Level up one Pokémon under Lv.30] and [Move: Endeavor], then went to bed.
And now, he faced a new day, refreshed.
Becoming a full member of Quicksand Team came with more than just a free Pokémon—the perks were a massive upgrade from grunt life. Sure, there was less personal freedom, but the benefits outweighed the costs.
It was worth a shot.
"Hey Ayato, aren't you nervous at all?"
A colleague's voice broke his train of thought.
Ayato turned and glanced at the guy's mountaineer-like getup. "You're wearing too much. Won't that slow you down?"
"I feel fine…" The guy bounced a couple times, pretending to be light on his feet.
Sure—for now.
Ayato adjusted the miner's helmet on his head. To stay mobile, he'd only brought essentials: helmet, dust mask, a manganese pickaxe, plus some water and compressed rations.
Quicksand Team's entry tests were never a secret. They loved planting obstacles—like letting a few wild Pokémon loose to attack participants, or hiding traps here and there.
So staying agile was crucial.
While they waited—
A commotion broke out nearby.
"A broke-ass loser like you thinks you can pass the test? Don't make me laugh—HA!"
The shrill jeers made Ayato frown.
He exchanged glances with the familiar grunts around him, and they all started walking toward the source of the noise.
Where there were people, there was conflict. In a place like Quicksand Team—where strength determined rank—infighting was inevitable.
People like Ayato, poor and powerless, were everywhere in Quicksand Team. On the other side were those with money or connections, each group forming their own cliques, glaring at each other with disdain.
Which made solidarity even more important.
As they approached the ruckus, they spotted a cluster of guys who looked noticeably cleaner and carried themselves differently from the average grunt.
These punks were shoving around a skinny youth, laughing and glancing at the onlookers nearby. When they realized no one dared make eye contact, they grew even cockier.
"Well, well, if it isn't the leader of the broke brigade. What's the matter? Here to back up your poor little crew? You think you've got what it takes?"
The lead punk swaggered over with his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on Ayato—the tallest and calmest in the group.
Unfortunately, he stood nearly a head shorter than Ayato and had to crane his neck to meet his gaze, sneering with a look of challenge.
The other punks jeered as they let the skinny kid go, stepping up to face Ayato's group.
The two sides stared each other down, tension rising, fists practically itching.
"You'll find out during the assessment if I've got what it takes." Ayato pulled the skinny youth behind him, eyes scanning their enemies. He raised one hand slightly.
The punks flinched and stepped back instinctively.
Their leader grew enraged at their cowardice and scoffed, "So what if you're good at fighting? Fighting alone won't get you far. Out here, it's all about backing and power. Just wait, you little nobody. I'll be seeing you."
With that—
He led his crew to the other side of the crowd.
Ayato's companions, previously tense, exhaled in relief and turned to comfort the rattled youth.
"Don't worry. They can't mess with the assessment. Relax."
An older guy stepped forward, trying to ease everyone's nerves.
The one picking the fight was named Shibata. His uncle was a squad leader—a mid-level officer in Quicksand Team. Though his status wasn't high enough to exempt his nephew from the dangerous assessment, it was still impressive for grunts like them.
Chances were, some "convenient conditions" would be arranged for Shibata during the trial.
As for whether they'd try to sabotage others… well, that was up in the air.
Quicksand Team was desperate for manpower. So the higher-ups had rules during grunt-level skirmishes—no killing, no crippling injuries that would reduce labor capacity, etc.
Guys like Ayato had the guts to challenge Shibata's group because they believed the executives would enforce those limits. It had always worked out that way—so long as they stuck together, someone would step in to mediate, and even Shibata's uncle never dared cross the line.
However—
What if they made a move during the assessment?
Even knowing they'd be punished, what if they still chose to take out the very newcomers the team desperately needed?
Expecting a petty thug to consider the bigger picture and let bygones be bygones was laughable. Their minds worked differently.
Stealing every day might leave you anxious—but guarding against thieves every day? That was worse.
They needed a one-and-done solution...
Easier said than done. The assessment was already tough enough. Who had the spare strength to set up Shibata?
Ayato felt a headache coming on.
This conflict had been brewing since before he transmigrated. It had crushed any hope of keeping a low profile.
There was no helping it.
Shibata and his gang had long been bullies among the grunts, pushing around countless people and calling those who kept their heads down "spineless worms." That lasted until they ran into Ayato and his circle—people who knew how to stick together.
Their resilience had clearly pissed Shibata off.
They'd clashed several times already. Each time, Ayato had resolved the fight through brute strength.
Which was why Shibata's group now treated them as thorns in their side, always looking for trouble.
Today was no different.
At the root of it all was the higher-ups' business.
A bunch of barely literate thugs, empowered by shallow family connections, doing whatever they wanted.
In Pyrite Town—where law was weak and violence reigned—this kind of scene was common.
The environment had shaped Shibata's thinking. Ever since bullying others brought him benefits with no consequences, he'd rarely been held accountable. Kissing up and kicking down became his default logic.
Thankfully, Ayato's body was something special.
Human physiques in the Pokémon world were fascinating. Some people were so frail they were bedridden for life—others could smash rocks with their fists or break wood with a single kick. Some could even spar with Fighting-type Pokémon or mimic their moves.
Ayato was working toward the latter. By now, he had far surpassed his peers.
That kind of physical talent filled him with confidence.
"The assessment begins now! First group, come forward for inspection! If you've already picked up jade, hand it over! And don't say I didn't warn you—if Donphan catches a whiff of it, you'll regret it!"
The examiner's booming voice echoed through the mine entrance, joined by Donphan's deep trumpeting snort.