The morning light filtered into Zevion's room like the soft pulse of a dream not yet over, painting dusty, golden streaks across the rough, uneven floorboards. He sat on his thin mattress, holding the Pokédex in one hand, its cool, smooth casing a tangible link to the impossible.
Treecko lazily curled up beside him, a warm, living presence, his scales shimmering faintly in the nascent light.
The events of earlier in the early morning still didn't feel real, a whirlwind of disbelief and exhilaration that left him breathless. But the Pokéballs beside him, gleaming red and white, the soft chirps of his new Pokémon companion, the system's quiet hum whenever he thought about it—it was all undeniable, a new reality solidified.
Today wasn't about awe anymore, not about simply marveling at the impossible. It was about testing, about pushing the boundaries of this miraculous system.
It was about understanding its intricate mechanics, and, most importantly, about exploiting it—if possible—to change his desperate circumstances.
This wasn't just a game; it was his life, and he intended to play it smarter this time, with every advantage he could seize. He felt a surge of determination, a drive he hadn't known in his previous, mundane existence.
He dived into Pokémon Emerald again, the pixelated world instantly filling the translucent panel before him, drawing him in with its familiar charm. He spawned right where he had saved: Professor Birch's lab, a familiar starting point for countless adventures he'd had in his past life.
The professor didn't even glance at him, standing there in his idle pose, waiting like a hollow statue in a display loop, utterly oblivious to the profound changes unfolding around him. Birch was just a static image, a programmed entity in a world that was becoming increasingly dynamic.
Zevion didn't speak, didn't bother to interact with the static NPC, testing his hypothesis. He walked out silently, nodding to himself, a silent hypothesis confirmed: his presence alone didn't trigger dialogue.
So long as he said nothing, the NPCs remained dormant, mere background elements in his unfolding game, a strange kind of control that felt both powerful and a little lonely. He was a ghost in their machine, observing their programmed existence, a silent puppeteer.
Route 102 greeted him with pixelated grass, tiny rustling leaves, and the promise of a possible wild Pokémon encounter from a nearby bush, a familiar rustle that now held real potential.
The familiar sounds and sights of the game world were now imbued with a new, thrilling sense of reality, every pixel a potential gateway to tangible rewards. The digital world felt more alive than his own cramped room, pulsating with unseen energy.
A wild Lotad appeared! Its small, green sprite bounced on the screen, ready for battle, its digital cry echoing faintly in his mind. He ordered Treecko to fight, his voice a confident whisper, feeling the strange connection between his command and Treecko's digital action, a seamless blend of thought and execution.
This silent communication felt incredibly powerful, a direct link to his Pokémon's will. Treecko responded with an immediate, eager surge, his pixelated form moving with surprising agility.
This time, Treecko moved faster, stronger, more decisive than before, his attacks landing with satisfying pixelated impacts. The little gecko seemed to have gained a subtle edge, a newfound sharpness in its movements, perhaps from the Rare Candies he'd fed him.
He watched, fascinated, as Treecko executed a perfect Pound, sending the Lotad reeling. After the battle, Zevion opened his bag, a simple click on the system panel, and scrolled through its contents. Inside: items. Potions. Pokéballs. A handful of Repels.
He narrowed his eyes, a new test forming in his mind, a crucial step in understanding the system's transfer capabilities.
"Let's see if you come out with me," he muttered, a hopeful whisper, anticipating the materialization, a tangible proof of his power.
He saved the game, watching the familiar "Saving..." message, the pixelated text confirming his progress, then closed the game, the system panel retracting with a soft hum, leaving the room in its usual dimness.
He held his breath, his gaze fixed on the floor, specifically the space near his mattress, waiting. And there they were, undeniable and real. The very same Repels, their small, cylindrical shapes distinct, their labels clear.
The Potions, their bottles gleaming faintly, filled with a vibrant red liquid. The five unused Pokéballs, still pristine, their buttons inviting. All sitting in a glowing cluster on the floor near his mattress, like loot from a defeated boss, a tangible reward for his in-game efforts.
He grinned, a wide, almost manic smile spreading across his face, a feeling of triumph washing over him, a surge of power he'd never known.
"Almost everything I get... I can bring here," he breathed, the implications of this discovery beginning to truly sink in, a game-changer in every sense, a literal bridge between worlds.
This wasn't just about items; it was about resources, about survival, about gaining an undeniable advantage in a world that had once offered him nothing but hardship. He could see his future unfolding, paved with these magical transfers.
The implications were too big to ignore, too revolutionary to dismiss as mere fantasy. Items, tools—maybe even TMs or evolutionary stones, powerful artifacts that could change his entire journey, shape his Pokémon's destiny?
The possibilities stretched out before him, endless and dazzling, like a vast, unexplored map of potential. He could equip himself, prepare for anything, build a formidable team without the usual grinding or financial struggles that plagued other trainers in this harsh world.
He dove back into the game, his fingers flying across the translucent panel, eager to continue his experiments, his mind buzzing with new ideas for exploitation. He passed through the next route, letting Treecko weaken but not faint against a Shroomish, carefully managing his health, pushing him just enough to test the healing system.
As he reached Petalburg, he made a beeline for the Pokémon Center, a destination of strategic importance, a place to confirm his theories about NPC interaction.
This time, he didn't even glance at Nurse Joy, didn't acknowledge her presence in any way, focusing solely on the mechanics of the system. He didn't speak a word, maintaining his silence as he approached the counter, a silent test of her autonomy, or lack thereof.
She didn't move, remaining in her static idle pose, a perfect, unmoving figure, like a doll waiting for its cue. Her eyes, though pixelated, seemed to hold no recognition.
He placed the Pokéball on the tray anyway, a silent command, a direct input to the system, bypassing any need for verbal interaction. And, like a machine programmed to react to direct input, she silently carried out the healing process, her movements fluid and precise, utterly devoid of personal interaction.
Not a syllable spoken, not a smile given, just efficient, automated care, a stark contrast to their previous, more 'human' exchange. The machine hummed, the light flashed, and Treecko was instantly restored.
Once the Pokéball chimed green, signaling Treecko's full recovery, Zevion picked it up and walked away, a new understanding dawning on him, solidifying his hypothesis. NPCs only existed if you needed them, if you directly engaged them with dialogue, if you broke their programmed loops.
That was both reassuring—they wouldn't interfere if he didn't want them to, offering a strange sense of privacy—and eerily unsettling, highlighting their programmed nature despite their apparent sentience, a chilling reminder of their artificiality. He was seeing the strings behind the puppets, a fascinating but disturbing revelation.
He was halfway through the next patch of tall grass, his sprite moving purposefully, when something flickered at the edge of his screen, a subtle distortion, almost like a ripple in the air.
A new icon, transparent and slightly blurred, almost holographic, appeared, hovering above the game world, distinct from the usual game interface. It was an unexpected addition, a surprise from the system itself, a new layer of interaction.
He froze, his movements halting mid-stride, his heart giving a sudden lurch of recognition. It wasn't part of the game world itself, not a new item or a Pokémon. It was hovering above it, distinct from the game's interface, a separate layer of reality, a digital overlay.
"…Wait a second," he muttered, his mind racing, a familiar sensation bubbling up from deep within his memories, a ghost from his past. This felt like a piece of his old life, a familiar comfort in this strange new world.
It wasn't a system menu, not like the main game selection panel he used to launch the games. It was the emulator overlay, a ghost from his past life, a tool he knew intimately from countless hours of gaming.
His heart skipped a beat, a sudden jolt of recognition and disbelief, as if a piece of his old world had followed him across dimensions, a true bridge between his past and present.
A tap, and it expanded—perfectly familiar, perfectly functional, just like on his old PC:
Button Mapping
Screen Filters
Sound Controls
Cheats
Zevion's breath hitched, caught in his throat, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning comprehension, a profound sense of destiny. He was shocked not because it was unfamiliar, but precisely because it was so familiar, so utterly mundane in its appearance, yet so revolutionary in its implications.
It was the cheat menu, the ultimate forbidden fruit, now within his grasp in a real world. The ultimate power, laid bare before him.
He opened the Cheats tab, his finger trembling slightly as he made the selection, a momentous decision that could change everything. And there it was, laid bare before him: an empty entry field, a "+" button, a classic UI straight out of his old emulator days.
No anti-cheat warning, no disconnection threat, no pop-up about account suspension, nothing to stop him from unleashing its full potential. The system seemed to welcome his interference.
It was exactly like the emulator back on Earth, too perfect, too… tempting. The sheer power it represented was almost overwhelming, a direct line to bending the very fabric of this new reality, to shaping his destiny with a few keystrokes. He could become unstoppable, a true master of his fate, a god in this world.
He stared at it for a long moment, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities and cautions, a battle between desire and prudence. He tried to remember all the cheat codes he once used, the ones that had broken games and created impossible scenarios, the ones that had granted him god-like power in digital realms.
He shook his head, a wave of apprehension washing over him, a cold sense of dread creeping in, a warning from his subconscious.
"I can't just throw them all in at once… This thing's way too real," he whispered, the words a stark reminder of his current predicament, of the tangible consequences that could arise.
"What if it crashes? What if there's a penalty, something worse than a corrupted save file, like a permanent physical glitch?" The thought of a real-world glitch, a permanent consequence, a distortion of his very being, was terrifying, a nightmare made real. He had to proceed with extreme caution.
His fingers trembled slightly as he began to type, carefully, deliberately, into the empty field: Rare Candy cheat code. He double-checked the spelling, the syntax, every detail, as if a single typo could unravel everything, could cause an irreversible catastrophe.
He tapped "Enable", the button glowing softly in response, a silent affirmation of his choice. Then saved the game and leaving him in the quiet of his room, the air thick with anticipation.
He was back in his room, the familiar squalor suddenly feeling less oppressive, less real than the digital world he had just left, a mere backdrop to his grand experiment.
He ran over to the Poke Center PC—the in-game PC, a the storage device for is excessive pokemons from his old life, now a portal to unimaginable wealth.
He clicked open the item storage, his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic, hopeful rhythm echoing in his ears. And stared, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before him.
ITEM STORAGE:
RARE CANDY x∞
He gasped, a sharp intake of breath, the sound loud in the quiet room, a raw expression of astonishment. It worked. It actually worked. Infinite Rare Candies, just like that, a limitless supply of power.
The sheer magnitude of it was dizzying, almost overwhelming, a true game-changer. His wildest dreams were coming true.
He immediately withdrew 99 candies, the maximum stack size, watching them materialize in his hand, shimmering faintly. He held the bottle-shaped candies, their smooth, cool surfaces tangible, and crouched next to Treecko, who blinked up at him curiously, sensing the excitement in the air. He offered the first candy to Treecko.
"Alright buddy. Let's see what happens," Zevion murmured, a thrill of excitement running through him, a sense of boundless potential. He offered Treecko the first candy. One. Treecko chirped, a warm green glow enveloping him, and he seemed to grow slightly, a visible increase in size and vitality. Two. Three…
Treecko chirped each time, a soft, contented sound, as the warm green glow enveloped him, making his scales shimmer with newfound energy.
Level 6.
Level 7.
Level 8.
Level 9.
Level 10.
He stopped there, a wave of caution washing over him, a sudden realization of the immense power he wielded. He didn't want to overdo it.
Treecko looked stronger already, more confident, his small body radiating a newfound power, a subtle but undeniable aura. His tail seemed sharper, his stance firmer, his eyes brighter, reflecting a deeper intelligence and readiness for battle.
Zevion exhaled, a long, slow breath, the implications of this power settling in, a heavy, exhilarating weight on his shoulders.
"I could power-level everything. Become a god in weeks," he thought, the idea swirling in his head, intoxicating and dangerous, a whisper of ultimate control.
The path to becoming a Pokémon Master, once impossible, now seemed within reach, almost too easy, almost a given, a destiny he could forge with a few clicks.
But even as the thought swirled in his head, intoxicating and seductive, another followed, a cold splash of reality, a chilling reminder of past mistakes.
There's always a cost, a price to pay for such unnatural power, a balance that must be maintained. He couldn't just break the world without consequence.
Back in Earth's games, overusing cheats could lead to corrupted files, buggy NPCs, missing sprites—even irreversible softlocks that rendered the game unplayable, forcing a complete restart.
What if this world did the same, but with real, tangible consequences that couldn't be reset, that would haunt him forever? He shivered at the thought.
What if pushing too far broke the system, not just the game, but the very fabric of this reality, causing irreparable damage to the world around him? What if he glitched, became a corrupted sprite in his own life, trapped in an endless loop of unreality, a living bug, a broken character?
The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine, a stark warning he couldn't ignore. This was not a game to be taken lightly.
So he sat back, forcing his racing heart to slow down, trying to regain his composure, to think rationally about his next steps.
"No. Not all at once," he decided, a sense of discipline asserting itself, a newfound maturity replacing his initial impulsiveness. He wouldn't risk it all on a reckless power trip, not when the stakes were so incredibly high, his very existence on the line.
He boxed the rest of the candies for now, sending them back to the infinite storage, a powerful resource to be used wisely, a treasure to be carefully managed for future needs.
Time to test something else, something less directly impactful on his Pokémon, something that could solve his immediate, pressing problems, like his chronic hunger. He needed to secure his basic needs first.
He dove back into the game, stepping into a Pokémart in Oldale Town, the familiar background music a comforting presence, a gentle jingle that brought a faint smile to his lips. He placed one Rare Candy on the counter, a single, valuable item, watching its pixelated form. Sold it.
You received 2400 Pokédollars!
The message flashed on the screen, the familiar chime of transaction completion sounding, a sweet, clear note of success. Zevion's eyes lit up, a new kind of hope sparking within him, a realization of true financial freedom he'd never known. As he thought, maybe he can get money as well, real money, enough to escape this poverty.
He saved the game, exited the system, and looked around his room, his gaze sweeping across the familiar, dusty surroundings. Nothing dropped, no physical banknotes, no coins clinking on the floor, no immediate, tangible cash. Just his old dusty wallet, still empty, still a testament to his poverty, or so it seemed at first glance.
He frowned, a knot of disappointment forming in his stomach, a brief moment of doubt creeping in. "...So not everything materializes," he muttered, a slight frustration in his voice, thinking there were limits to this power after all, that it wasn't a perfect cheat. He needed to understand these nuances.
But something nagged at him, a persistent thought, a tiny seed of an idea that refused to be dismissed, a flicker of intuition. What if the money isn't physical, what if it's handled differently by the system, directly transferred, an invisible transaction? He remembered his old bank app, a relic of his past life.
He grabbed his broken phone, a relic from his past life that rarely had service, a symbol of his old struggles, and with shaking fingers, he managed to boot up the old bank app.
Balance: 0.00 credits, the usual depressing number that had haunted his existence for weeks. His heart pounded with a desperate hope.
Then it blinked, the screen flickering for a moment, a subtle change that made his heart leap.
Refreshed.
Updated.
+2400.00
Zevion's mouth dropped open, his jaw literally hitting his chest, a gasp escaping his lips, a sound of pure astonishment.
It converted. The in-game currency, the digital Pokédollars, had been directly converted into real currency, deposited straight into his bank account, a seamless, invisible transfer. His hands flew across the buttons as he sold another candy, saved, exited—
And the balance rose. Again. And again. Each transaction a silent, undeniable confirmation of his newfound wealth, a digital cascade of credits that promised a new life, a future free from hunger and want.
"Oh my god," he breathed, the words barely audible, a mix of awe and disbelief, a profound realization of his altered circumstances. "It converts. Directly into real currency."
The implications were staggering, life-changing, beyond anything he had ever imagined, a true miracle unfolding before his eyes.
He sat back, stunned, leaning against the wall, breathing fast, his mind reeling from the sheer magnitude of this discovery, the world shifting on its axis.
"So… physical items come out. Money goes into digital account." The system had a logic, a pattern, a sophisticated design that he was beginning to unravel, piece by piece.
"That's the system's safeguard," he realized, a sudden flash of insight, a moment of profound understanding. "Maybe it was the system's way to not break the economy and make it a real money to be used?" It was a brilliant, elegant solution to integrating game mechanics with real-world finance, preventing chaos and maintaining balance.
By the time he sold all 94 Rare Candies he had withdrawn, his account balance made him dizzy, a number he had only ever dreamed of seeing, a fortune beyond his wildest fantasies.
It was more money than he'd earn in a year doing back-breaking, underpaid jobs. More than anyone in this slum would ever see in a lifetime. All from one cheat, a single line of code, a simple entry. He was rich, truly rich, for the first time in his life.
Zevion leaned against the wall, breathing fast, the air in his lungs feeling thin with excitement, his body tingling with energy.
He looked at Treecko, who was now casually punching the air like a tiny martial artist, completely oblivious to the financial revolution he was part of, just enjoying his newfound strength. Treecko was a silent partner in his grand scheme.
"This… This is power," Zevion whispered, the words tasting sweet and dangerous on his tongue, a taste of forbidden fruit.
His eyes drifted back to the system panel, to the cheat tab, still open, still full of possibilities, a Pandora's Box of advantages waiting to be unleashed. He could feel the weight of this power, heavy and exhilarating.
He could get Master Balls, the ultimate capture tool, ensuring no Pokémon would ever escape him. Infinite Pokéballs, never worrying about running out again, a limitless supply for his journey.
TMs, teaching his Pokémon powerful new moves, expanding their capabilities instantly. Shiny Encounters, rare, coveted Pokémon appearing at will, a collector's dream come true.
The list of potential cheats scrolled in his mind, each one a temptation, each one a shortcut to greatness he had only imagined.
But for now, he clicked the menu closed, the glowing panel retracting with a soft hum, a conscious decision to exercise restraint. He stared out the cracked window of his tiny, broken world, now filled with a new, vibrant potential, a future he could truly shape with his own hands. He wouldn't squander this chance.
"…Not yet," he murmured, a newfound caution guiding his actions, a wisdom born from his past failures.
"Not until I know the rules, all of them, every hidden parameter and consequence."
"After all, it's not like I need too many cheat codes right away; I have enough to start, enough to build a solid foundation." He wouldn't rush into anything, no matter how tempting.
Because in games, rules could be bent, broken, exploited without real consequence, just a simple reset or a new save file.
But in this world, breaking them might come with consequences he wasn't ready for, consequences that could be far more severe than a simple game crash, perhaps even affecting his very existence. He needed to be meticulous, to understand the system's limits, to avoid a catastrophic error.
He tried many other things, his curiosity insatiable, like seeing if he could select what he needed from the game to the real world or what he could enter into it.
He discovered that anything his in-game bag stored, he could get everything from it, a direct transfer, a perfect inventory system he could rely on. He also found out that he couldn't take anything from anywhere else, not even from his PC storage, only items from his active bag, a subtle but important limitation to remember.
And if he focused while closing the game, he could select and dismiss withdrawal of items from it, just he needed to think strongly about it, a mental command to the system, a subtle form of control.
He also found out that he could put anything physical inside his game bag, and it would work like an inventory, disappearing from the real world and reappearing in his digital bag, a truly astonishing feature. This meant he could store things, hide things, transport things, all through the system, a personal, portable vault.
The possibilities for stealth, resource management, and even escape were suddenly limitless. He could carry a small fortune, or an entire arsenal, without anyone ever knowing. The system was more than a cheat; it was a lifeline, a secret weapon in a world that had once been so cruel.
He also found that the system had a subtle, almost imperceptible hum when active, a low thrumming sound that only he seemed to notice, like the quiet whir of a powerful, unseen engine. This constant, gentle vibration was a reminder of its ever-present nature, a silent companion in his new reality, a constant reassurance.
He wondered if anyone else in this world had a similar system, or if he was truly unique in his connection to this game-like existence. The thought both thrilled and isolated him, making him feel like an anomaly in a world that was already fantastical, yet he was the only one with this power.
He considered trying to find others like him, but the idea was quickly dismissed; trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when his newfound power was so immense and potentially dangerous.
For now, secrecy was paramount, his greatest asset, his hidden advantage. He also noticed that the system panel, while transparent, cast a faint, almost ethereal glow on his surroundings, a soft green light that pulsed with his thoughts, almost like a living thing.
He found himself instinctively reaching out to touch it sometimes, just to confirm its solidity, to reassure himself that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Each touch confirmed its realness, a smooth, cool surface that felt like nothing else he had ever encountered, a connection he couldn't break.
The more he interacted with it, the more integrated it felt, less like a separate entity and more like an extension of his own will, a direct conduit to power. He even started to feel a faint, almost imperceptible pull towards the game world when the system was active, a subtle urge to dive back in and explore its depths, to uncover more secrets.
It was as if the game itself was calling to him, beckoning him deeper into its mysteries, into a destiny he was only just beginning to grasp. He was playing a game, yes, but the stakes were higher than ever before, and he was determined to win, no matter the cost. His journey had truly just begun.
After getting dressed up and now with money he left the apartment.