Want to read ahead. You know where
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On his way to the famous Canalave Library, Sam made a quick detour into the local Silph Co. outlet store.
There, tucked in a gleaming case beside a line of specialty Poké Balls, he found what he was looking for:
A Dream Ball.
It wasn't a spontaneous purchase.
Ever since Darkrai had started camping out in his shadow like some cursed guardian spirit, Sam had known this arrangement couldn't last forever.
Having a literal nightmare Pokémon trailing behind him 24/7? A little inconvenient.
Especially if, say, he had company. Or needed privacy.
It just… didn't quite fit the vibe.
Thankfully, Dream Balls were designed specifically for Pokémon like Darkrai.
Their effect harmonized naturally with the Dream Eater's presence.
To his surprise, Darkrai didn't resist at all.
A flicker of understanding passed between them, and the legendary Pokémon returned willingly to the ball.
One less shadow trailing behind him.
…
By the time Sam had crossed Mine Island and reached Canalave City's central district, the sun had already begun to dip westward.
Though small in size, Canalave was scattered across several islands, connected by drawbridges and ferries.
What it lacked in convenience, it made up for in quiet charm—and complexity.
It had taken him nearly an entire day to get here from the Gym.
"I really need to get a flying Pokémon," Sam muttered under his breath, flexing his ankles and stretching his calves.
"I'm not Groudon. I don't plan to walk my way across the continents."
With renewed determination and a very sore back, Sam turned to face his next destination.
…
Canalave Library.
Standing in front of it now, Sam was struck silent.
He'd heard about it before. Everyone had.
It was renowned as the most expansive library in Sinnoh.
But to see it in person?
Colossal didn't begin to describe it.
"This really is the ocean of knowledge," he murmured.
The main structure stretched as far as the eye could see, its soaring spires and glass domes towering above the harbor.
Its arched gates were flanked by statues of ancient Pokémon, and its columns were inscribed with carvings in multiple languages—Unown, Kalosian, even ancient Ransei script.
And yet…
Despite the size, there weren't many people around.
Only a few bespectacled researchers came and went through the doors, most with their heads buried in scrolls or books, mumbling to themselves.
"Guess even in this world," Sam noted, "people would rather travel than read."
Still, he preferred this. A quiet crowd meant a quiet mind.
Inside, the library smelled of old parchment, candle wax, and something sweetly earthy—like ancient oak floors that remembered every step.
He took his time exploring the first floor.
To his amusement, the entire ground level was a curated display of bestsellers.
Most were perfectly normal—Pokémon encyclopedias, type-matching guides, and popular cookbooks like "101 Berries and You."
But then…
He wandered into the romance section.
And instantly regretted it.
His eyes scanned the bookshelf—and promptly narrowed in disbelief.
"Two or Three Things About My Happiness with Gardevoir"
"My Surname Is Xu, and I Only Raise Milotic"
"The Flygon-Krookodile Pact: Love, Hate, and Sandstorms"
"Zangoose & Seviper: A Forbidden Romance"
"We Met on Route 212: A Sudowoodo Love Story"
Sam stood there, blinking.
"These titles are insane…"
He reached out hesitantly and pulled one from the shelf: "Two or Three Things About My Happiness with Gardevoir."
"I'm an academic," he told himself, flipping it open.
"I'm reading this… purely to critique its structure."
Ten minutes later…
Sam slammed the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf with an annoyed grunt.
"Title bait! Absolute nonsense! It's all fluff and innuendo!"
He dusted his hands off like he was cleaning off grime and made a hasty retreat to the next aisle over.
Urban legends and horror.
He scanned the spines cautiously.
One, in particular, caught his eye.
Haunter Wants to Evolve… But Must Devour a Pikachu!?
He stared at the title for a moment, then flipped it open.
"To evolve into Gengar, Haunter must dramatically increase its physical mass," the first page explained.
"Both Gastly and Haunter weigh a mere 0.1kg. However, Gengar clocks in at 40.5kg."
It continued:
"Interestingly, Pikachu's average weight? 40kg exactly. Some scholars believe this sudden weight gain is not a coincidence—but rather the result of Haunter fusing with, or… consuming a Pikachu."
Sam blinked.
"What kind of creepypasta-turned-peer-review is this?"
Still, it was weirdly entertaining.
He skimmed a little more.
"Side-by-side comparisons of Gengar and Pikachu reveal similar ear shapes, tail silhouettes, and general body outlines…"
He snorted.
No real evidence. Just speculation, circumstantial charts, and what he suspected was an edited photo of a Gengar wearing Pikachu's ears.
After reading a few more pages of the absurd theory about Gengar's evolution involving Pikachu, Sam let out a soft sigh and closed the book.
"Complete nonsense," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Just some wild folklore bundled up into a hardcover."
He slid the book back onto the shelf with mild disgust.
"The intellectual standards in this world… are tragic."
Not one to linger where neurons went to die, Sam promptly left the first floor and made his way upstairs.
…
The second floor wasn't much better.
Messy categories, strange signage, and an even stranger selection of titles greeted him.
In the Agricultural Sciences section, he spotted:
"On the Benefits of Growing Dugtrios on Your Farm"
"How to Feed Your Miltank for Optimal Milk Yield"
In the Self-Development aisle:
"Train Like a Machoke: Gain Muscle in 15 Days"
"Unlock Psychic Potential: 7 Habits of Highly Effective Alakazams"
Sam stared at the last title and blinked slowly.
He backed away in silence and continued upward.
…
By the time he reached the fifth floor, the atmosphere had changed.
The carpeting was thicker. The air cooler. The lighting more muted.
The books here weren't flashy bestsellers or novelty titles. Instead, they were leather-bound, thick-spined volumes that smelled of parchment and old ink.
Historical records. Research journals. Local archives.
Now this, finally, was what he came for.
Sam wandered the aisles until he found the section labeled "Regional Geography and History."
After scanning a few shelves, one book caught his eye:
Canalave: Local Chronicles and Folk Geography.
He pulled it down, brushed a layer of dust from the cover, and opened it.
Several pages in, a short passage stood out:
"In the northwest of Canalave City lies an uninhabited island. At its heart is a long-dried pond, shaped like a crescent moon. Hence, it is named—Newmoon Island."
Sam's eyes narrowed.
"The island is said to be home to a strange cave. A permanent haze lingers there, and faint lights can sometimes be seen flickering in the fog. Some claim there is treasure hidden deep inside."
"But… we offer this caution: every Trainer who has attempted to explore the cave… has never returned."
Sam's fingers paused on the page.
Newmoon Island. A cave. A crescent-shaped pond. Haze.
He committed it all to memory.
…
After a few more hours exploring the ancient texts and geography scrolls, the sky outside the great glass dome of the library dimmed to violet.
Sam finally closed his final book and stood, stretching slightly.
His legs ached from the stairs and the stillness, and his mind buzzed with possibilities.
He decided to call it a night. Perhaps tomorrow, he would charter a boat.
As he reached the entrance, a soft voice stopped him.
"Excuse me. Are you… Professor Samuel Lockwood?"
He paused, turning slightly.
A woman stood behind him.