The classroom was silent, every student stunned-most of all Felton.
In his eyes, Silas had been nothing but a boy who won against Roxanne with cheap tricks. Yet now… he was confronted with the truth.
The same boy standing before him was the genius breeder-the one whose name in potential wise had shaken both the Breeder's Association and the noble families of Hoenn.
Felton's face paled. His family had warned him beforehand: 'If you meet Silas, find an opportunity to win him over.'
And here he was-mocking him.
Even if his family counted one of Hoenn's Elite Four, Phoebe, among their bloodline, Felton was only a side branch. If he had been of the main family, he would never have been sent to the Academy in the first place.
If possible, who wouldn't want to remain at the family's headquarters, enjoying the wealth and superior resources reserved for the main line?
Cold sweat ran down his back as Silas's earlier glare replayed in his mind. That look calm, sharp, dangerous-was unlike anything he had seen before. It wasn't the anger of a peer. It was the look of someone who had stared death in the eyes, and dealt it out himself.
Silas, however, ignored him completely. He flipped open a textbook, scanned a few pages, then addressed the class with steady composure.
"Today, we'll begin with the origin and development of Pokéblocks.
Pokéblocks, as you know, are the backbone of advanced Pokémon training. They didn't exist centuries ago. The profession of the Breeder itself is a relatively recent discipline-one born from the need to not only feed Pokémon, but to maximize their growth, health, and potential."
From his pocket, Silas withdrew a small case. Clicking it open, he revealed the polished Junior Breeder's badge, which gleamed proudly on his chest as he pinned it in place.
The students gasped quietly. For them, graduation promised a decent life but to pass the Breeder's exam at only seventeen was something most could barely imagine.
....
"A breeder's duties are vast," Silas continued.
"From creating tailored training plans… to preparing specialized Pokéblocks… to handling medical care, physical conditioning, and even berry cultivation.Most importantly, we study Berries-the core ingredient for Pokéblocks."
He paced slowly before the class, his tone steady, his eyes sharp.
"The same Berry will differ depending on soil, climate, and season. A Cheri Berry from one region won't always be the same as another-it may be sweeter, spicier, or even weaker in potency.
For example:
Rawst Berries carry a bitterness that makes them excellent for mixing into healing Pokéblocks.
Oran Berries are gentle, restorative, and form the basis of most recovery cubes.
Sitrus Berries are rarer, but their energy density makes them invaluable for endurance training."
The students scribbled furiously.
Silas paused, his throat dry. He reached for the water dispenser, filled a cup, and sipped-only to blink in surprise.
'…Sweet?' He smirked faintly. 'Even the water here's laced with nutrients. No wonder tuition costs a fortune.'
He set the cup aside. "Your first assignment: write a paper on Berries.
It can be on cultivation methods, practical use, or even the cultural history behind them. Any insight you bring me will be graded tomorrow, and I'll review it here in class."
Closing the textbook, Silas gave a curt nod, signaling the lesson's end.
The moment he stepped out, the classroom erupted in whispers.
"Genius breeder Silas is our teacher?!"
"I heard he passed the Breeder's exam at seventeen!"
"They say his knowledge can determine life or death in one glance…"
"…And didn't he make Felton back down with just one look?!"
Rumors spread like wildfire. Within hours, every corner of the Academy would know that the so-called prodigy was teaching here-even if only temporarily.
....
Silas walked the quiet halls, glancing at his Pokédex as a new message from Nurse Joy flashed across the screen. Relief softened his features.
'Felton's nothing more than a side-branch brat. Not worth worrying over.'
Confidence surged in his chest. With the Joy family's backing, the Petalburg Gym's investment, and even the recognition of Mister Edgar-the President of Rustboro's Breeder Guild-he no longer needed to tread cautiously.
For the first time, he had a real foothold in this world. He was no longer the powerless boy who could be pushed around.
....
The Academy cafeteria was half-empty, but Silas climbed to the private second-floor booth. Part of his employment package,he might as well use it.
He ordered freely within the allotted stipend:
pan-fried scallops, mushroom vermicelli casserole, steamed Slowpoke tail.
The food was rich, far better than what he was used to. Afterward, he collected his week's allowance from the logistics office.
"One hundred thousand Pokédollars…" Silas muttered. "A tidy sum for a week's work."
For an ordinary family, it was a year's income. But here, it was a teacher's stipend.
"Knowledge really is priceless," he murmured.
....
That evening, Silas returned to the teacher's dormitory. Though only a single apartment, the space was luxurious compared to most.
"I'm back, Eevee~"
"Vee!"
A small blur of brown fur launched herself into his arms, nuzzling into his chest with impatient affection.
Silas chuckled, stroking her soft fur. "Alright, alright. You hate being left alone, don't you?"
Her muffled cries softened as he soothed her, until only a faint wag of her tail remained.
For a fleeting moment, he thought of keeping her as a pampered pet instead of a fighter. But the thought passed quickly.
Eevee had potential. And he would nurture it.
"Tonight, we'll test a new formula," Silas said, setting her gently down. "A special Iron Defense Pokéblock-to toughen your body, to make you unyielding."
From his space pack, he pulled out a compact Pokéblock machine, sleek and efficient—far more advanced than Mira's old model, which now sat in his room as a memento.
Hours passed, the hum of the machine filling the room. Failed materials piled in a corner, but Silas worked tirelessly until at last, he lifted a storage case.
Inside lay rows of gleaming Pokéblocks, their surface catching the light.
"The formula worked," Silas whispered, pride flickering in his eyes.
For the next week, he continued teaching at the Academy. Not a single student dared provoke him again. Whispers followed him instead: tales of his piercing gaze, of Felton quaking before him, exaggerated into legends by the day.
Silas only sighed at the rumors.
If their fear kept trouble away, he wouldn't complain. He had no interest in messy campus dramas plots.
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(End of chapter)