The blast of water that struck me was fiercer than a high-pressure hose. It hurled me straight into the locker room.
A metal cabinet crashed down with a deafening bang, spilling bottles of detergent and half-used cleaning supplies across the floor. I spat out a mouthful of water, wiped the foam from my eyes, and saw the pool outside settle back into stillness.
"This is bad… I don't even have a Pokémon. How am I supposed to deal with this?" I muttered, though a part of me still wanted to rescue it.
The system's light-blue panel flickered through the murky water:
Squirtle (♂) (Water)
HP: 5/31
Weaknesses: Grass ×2, Electric ×2
Ability:Torrent — When HP drops below one-third, Water-type moves gain +30% power.
Judging from its display, that Water Gun must have been its last burst of strength. Approaching now should be safe… right?
Then, something caught my eye in the pile of junk nearby—a red-and-white Poké Ball, still bearing a half-torn discount sticker. One of my predecessor's "leftovers."
"Alright. Find something long enough, poke it a few times, don't hurt it… simple."
I grabbed an old bamboo fishing net, the handle quivering in my hands—not from fear, but from something I hadn't felt in months: hope.
The net's tip touched something soft. On the system panel, Squirtle's HP ticked down by one.
[BEEP—]
[Squirtle defeated. Obtained White Item: Water Resistance +5%.]
[Skill Acquired: Fake Out — Attack the target, causing damage and making it flinch. Can only be used in the first turn.]
[Entry Slots: 1/3]
[Skill Slots: 1/8]
Light shimmered off its shell, breaking into tiny motes that sank into my skin, leaving a faint pearlescent glow. "Huh. Mission complete."
No time to examine my new skill—the Poké Ball's arc through the air was the only thing I could focus on.
"Squirtle—go!" I shouted. It felt wrong to throw a Poké Ball without saying the line.
[Squirtle captured. HP fully restored (first time free).]
A flash of red light, and Squirtle materialized on the poolside. The ugly wound on his neck sealed before my eyes. Then he waddled over, bit the cuff of my pants, and thumped his tail against the ground in rhythm with my heartbeat.
I crouched, rubbing his smooth head. "Yeah… you think this place is a dump too, huh?"
The system's menu tabs blinked into focus:
Recharge — Just what it sounds like: add funds. Mall — Locked. Recovery Center — Heal your own Pokémon. 500 Pokédollars per use; same price as the cheapest public clinic. Tasks — Blank, for now. Business — Shower room upgrade in progress. Personal Information —
That last one froze my smile.
Name: Lin Shou (♂) — Normal type
Level: 5
HP: 23/30
Attack: 30
Defense: 30
Special Attack: 30
Special Defense: 30
Speed: 30
Weakness: Fighting ×2
Entry: (1/3) — Water Resistance +5%
Skill: (1/8) — Fake Out
Term Library: White: 1; Blue: 0; Purple: 0; Gold: 0; Orange: 0; Red: 0
"Wait, wait… system, are you serious? I'm human, not a Pokémon!"
I dipped my hand into the shallow pool. The water, which should have been icy, was warm. The system wasn't joking.
If my stats could level up… Pokémon wouldn't be the only ones capable of terrifying power. Imagine a human firing a Hyper Beam.
Still, the number bugged me. "Thirty? Even Ditto has a base stat of forty-eight! What am I, a sunflower seed?"
The system, as usual, ignored me. I sighed and turned back to the panel. One step at a time—better entries might come later.
A sudden metallic crash echoed from the locker room. Droplets fell from the ceiling, refracting light like tiny system icons.
[Infrastructure damage detected. Initiating Novice Task Chain.]
Task 1/3: Repair the outdoor swimming pool.
Time limit: 23:59:59
Reward: 1 random second-hand training device + accelerated shower room repair.
I rummaged through my predecessor's toolbox. The wrench was so rusted it wouldn't budge a screw. "Even the beginner quests are cheap."
Squirtle had wandered off. An hour later, he returned, tugging at my pant leg and trying to drag me toward the storage shed.
"Hey—what is it now?"
"Squirtle, squirtle!"
"I don't speak Turtle!"
In the far corner, buried under junk, we found it—an MK-II maintenance robot, frozen in a meditative Buddha pose. By the rust, it had been dead for a long time.
But if Squirtle had dragged me here, maybe…