Chapter 6
The first rays of morning stretched across the Astraeus estate as Alaric rose from his bed. His attendants expected the usual routine of lessons and reading, but today he requested the courtyard. Not for play—he had never been the kind of child to play—but for training.
A servant carried a deep basin, filled fresh with river water. Alaric had insisted upon it the previous evening. Inside, Perseus the Magikarp swam in circles, tail flicking sluggishly, gills opening and closing as though still adjusting to its new life beyond the river.
The servants whispered among themselves. "A Magikarp? Truly?" one muttered, barely hiding his smirk.
"Perhaps the young master thinks it amusing," another replied softly. "It will never battle."
Alaric ignored them. He dismissed the attendants once the basin was settled, leaving only himself and Perseus beneath the morning sky. He sat upon the stone steps of the courtyard, posture straight, gaze calm.
"Perseus," he said quietly. The Magikarp thrashed, splashing weakly against the sides of the basin. "Others see failure. I see potential. But potential is nothing without discipline. Today, we begin."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You are limited now—your movements clumsy, your attacks weak. So we will build from the beginning. Strength is not born in leaps, but in persistence."
He began simply. Each time Perseus splashed, Alaric counted aloud, marking the rhythm. He encouraged repetition, patience, endurance. Where another child might grow bored, Alaric watched keenly, noting every flick of the tail, every pause.
"Your body is not strong," he murmured, "but your spirit is stubborn. That is enough. We will sharpen persistence into power."
Hours passed. Perseus splashed, thrashed, stilled, then tried again. When fatigue slowed the fish's movements, Alaric leaned forward, voice low but firm.
"No. Do not stop here. Weakness ends only when one refuses it. Again."
The Magikarp twitched, then splashed once more. Water spilled over the basin's edge, dampening Alaric's boots. He did not flinch. Instead, he allowed the faintest of smiles.
"Yes. That is it. Even in exhaustion, you move forward."
By midday, his father arrived to observe. Lord Astraeus stood silently at the courtyard's edge, arms crossed. He said nothing at first, only watching his heir order a Magikarp to splash tirelessly in a basin. At last, he spoke.
"Most nobles train with Chikorita, Growlithe, Pidgeotto. Pokémon of elegance, strength, prestige. Yet here you sit, commanding a fish to leap."
Alaric looked over his shoulder, unshaken. "Prestige is borrowed, father. Perseverance is earned. Let the others flaunt their fine partners. When Perseus rises, there will be no doubt it was by our will alone."
His father studied him a moment longer, then gave a small, rare laugh. "You remind me more of myself than I expected. Very well. Continue. I will not interfere."
That evening, after servants refilled the basin, Alaric sat beside it once more. He extended his hand lightly into the water. Perseus swam close, brushing his fingers with rough scales.
"Do you feel it, Perseus? The world thinks you useless. Even those within this household doubt. But we will prove them wrong. Every thrash, every splash, every drop of sweat is a step toward that day."
The Magikarp flopped in response, sending a spray across his sleeve. Alaric did not recoil. He only chuckled softly.
"Good. Defiance is the first spark of strength."
Over the next week, his routine became legend among the servants. Each dawn, the heir of House Astraeus trained alone with his Magikarp. He refused tutors during those hours, ignored whispers of mockery. He tracked Perseus's progress meticulously, recording each session in a ledger.
Day Three: Endurance improved. Splash repeated seventy-three times before fatigue.
Day Four: Tail strike stronger. Water spilled one meter from basin edge.
Day Six: Resistance building. No pause between repetitions until count one hundred twelve.
It was not glamorous. Perseus still looked clumsy, still lacked any attack that could harm. But Alaric saw more than appearances. He saw willpower being shaped, discipline forged drop by drop.
On the seventh evening, he carried Perseus back to the river. Servants assumed it was to release the fish, to abandon a failed experiment. Instead, Alaric stepped into the shallows, basin set aside, and released Perseus into the current.
The Magikarp flailed at first, overwhelmed by the river's force. Then, slowly, it began to swim, tail beating more rhythmically than before. It leapt—once, twice, three times. Each leap higher than when Alaric had first found it.
Alaric's lips curved faintly. "Yes. This is what training means. Not instant glory, but steady ascension."
Behind him, voices murmured. A pair of local farmers had stopped to watch. One chuckled. "A noble's child, training a Magikarp? What folly."
Alaric turned his head slightly, violet eyes glinting. "Folly is mocking what you do not understand. Remember this day well. For when this Magikarp rises, those who laughed will be the first to kneel."
The farmers flushed, muttering apologies before hurrying on. Perseus splashed again, higher still, and Alaric's gaze softened.
"You and I, Perseus—we will endure their scorn. For every sneer today will become silence tomorrow."
He crouched at the river's edge, voice low but resolute. "I will not seek strength in what is already proven. I will build it where none believe it can be found. That is how legends are made."
The Magikarp leapt once more, water cascading in silver arcs beneath the moonlight. And in that moment, boy and Pokémon moved in perfect harmony—two souls underestimated, two wills unbroken, two destinies entwined.