In addition to the normal entrance exam, there was actually an extra challenge.
A note at the end explained: any candidate who achieved a 100% win rate in the second (practical) test could opt into a third test. This time, you had to defeat a Pokémon that directly countered your own typing. If you still kept a 100% record, Liao Provincial No. 1 Trainer High would let you choose any one of the 24 known starters—each with its signature key move inherited—and list you as an Excellent Seed for one year.
That part hooked Ethan Rivers instantly. No serious Trainer High expected you to rely on one partner forever. Sooner or later he'd worry about a second Pokémon—and this could solve it in one go. Best of all, the optional test wouldn't hurt his main results; if he failed it, his previous grades stood, and he'd still be admitted.
Ethan checked the school site for what "Excellent Seed" meant. It's a merit track for top performers: selected annually, with tuition and housing waived for a year, plus a monthly allotment of custom Pokémon nutrient pills sufficient to feed one partner. Free mon, free food, real savings—it was three birds with one stone. He practically drooled.
"No," Ethan muttered, "I need this shot."
He opened his contacts. Zack Zhao—with a heavyweight family—might have insider details. Also a good excuse to see what Zack chose as his starter.
The video connected. Zack lounged on a plush sofa, eating fruit. Floor-to-ceiling windows behind him showed blue sky and a postcard skyline.
"Master Zhao, living very comfortably, huh?" Ethan teased.
"Hah. Compared to the dorms? Home wins," Zack said, sinking into the cushions with theatrical bliss. "Anyway, why'd you call? I was going to ping you soon. Got your starter sorted? If not, say the word—I'll lean on the family. The exam's close, and you still need time to bond."
"No need. I've got my first partner. I'll show you now."
Ethan popped a Ball. Houndour burst out with a happy "Houn!", bounced onto the bed, and burrowed into Ethan's arms.
"Whoa." Zack leaned closer. "Not common. Where'd you get a Houndour? Wild ones are brutal to catch. Don't tell me you took a loan."
"Someone gave it to me. I still don't really get why." Ethan recapped the mountain, the Ekans, the rescue, and the Ball—then mentioned the city Rock Gym heir who'd vetted everything.
"If the Rock Gym's young master says it's clean, then it's clean," Zack conceded. "Just remember to go into the city and register the Ball properly. Even my family doesn't mess around with unregistered gear."
"I will. What about you—did you find a pseudo-legendary?"
"We found one. Couldn't catch it." Zack stayed calm. "Adult pseudos are monsters. We had to tap out."
"What species—Dragon?" Ethan asked, intrigued. Wild pseudos were rare.
"A Larvitar. Its mother, Tyranitar, was too strong—kicked up a sandstorm and blacked out the sky. The pros my family sent still lost. And Momma wasn't negotiating. Wouldn't hand over her kid. We gave up."
"Tyranitar…" Ethan pictured the dark-green Desert Tyrant and whistled. "So what did you pick? One of the starters?"
Zack angled his camera toward a corner. A small bipedal Pokémon—about half a meter tall—was munching polished metal beads. Its body was sleek, silvery metal, like a gleaming skyscraper model.
Ethan blinked. Then grimaced, half envious, half impressed. Duraludon. Stellar typing, single-stage, strong at every phase, and not far off Tyranitar in practical threat. Wild Duraludon and Tyranitar often clash over resources.
And unless the lighting lied… this one looked shiny.
"You found Tyranitar and Duraludon in the same range?" Ethan asked, swallowing. The overlap was textbook—but still wild to see.
"Exactly. Duraludon was in T-tar's territory. Its mother was reasonable and agreed to let the kid go with a human. Considering Duraludon's strength, I chose it as my starter." Zack zoomed in proudly.
Ethan rolled his eyes at the flex but played along. "Shiny, right?"
"Heh-heh. The main point. Isn't it gorgeous?"
"You lucky jerk."
They traded a few jabs, then Ethan got to business. "You register for Liao No. 1?"
"I didn't. I've got a direct slot."
Ethan: "…"Money. Must be nice.
"Got any insider notes, then?" Ethan asked. "I'm walking in the front door like everyone else—and I want that free-choice starter slot."
"I don't have anything on hand," Zack said, "but I can get people to compile it and send it over."
"Thanks."
"With our friendship, don't be stiff. And do not repay me by duo-queueing—I still have trauma from your builds."
"Speaking of," Zack added, "why did your Mudsdale buy four pairs of boots?"
"Four boots, four passives. Cheap, no conflicts. Also, Mudsdale has four legs. Shouldn't it wear four?" Ethan said, genuinely thoughtful.
Zack stared. If he keeps queuing with me, my win rate dies.
"Two pairs equals eight shoes. Next time, just buy two, okay?"
"Oh. I'll try that."
Progress! Zack coaxed another confession. "And your Togekiss—no boots because… it flies?"
"Right. Shoes are a waste on a flyer. Save money, rush more damage."
"Doesn't it feel slow without them?"
"Not really. Also, Mudsdale wasn't fast with four pairs, either."
"…Great form, Brother Sheng. Perfect understanding," Zack said flatly—and promptly dodged the invite to play. He hung up muttering about making a smurf Ethan would never find.
Ethan played two solo games, got flamed by randoms, and rage-tossed his phone onto the sheets. He refreshed the school portal.
His exam center and flow were posted. He confirmed and finalized. A minute later, a text arrived:
Written exam: July 1 in the city.Practical exam: July 20–22 (3 days).
"Today's June 25. I've got more than half a month to prep," he said, relaxing. The written was a gatekeeping skim; with his grades, he'd be fine.
That evening, Zack's compiled insider packet arrived. Ethan thanked him and dove in.
Part One covered written scope, key concepts, past papers, and mocks. He skimmed; nothing scary.
Part Two analyzed the 'Pinnacle Trial'—the practical gauntlet. It listed likely examiner picks by type, probable moves, and common counters. Stats said most examiner mons were Level 7–8, with some discretion to ease off for brand-new trainers.
Houndour had just hit Level 6 and already ran Ember + Flash Fire + Fire Spin. Passing the second test seemed very doable. The third was the hurdle.
Zack's packet noted the extra exam's foes hovered around Level 10, and they'd be type-advantaged against you. For a beginner, winning an unfavorable matchup was hard.
At the end, Zack had attached a bespoke mini-guide clearly written by a pro for a Houndour case. No TMs existed in this world; learning came from inheritance, insight, or a tutor, so early coverage was tricky. Versus Water, Ethan's "arsonist flow" wouldn't bully its way through; a well-controlled Water Gun simply dampened the field.
The guide offered options, but one note—flagged 'least likely, most effective'—grabbed Ethan:
Grass Coverage.
Houndour's four threats were Fighting, Ground, Rock, Water. As a ranged fire caster, he could often kite and burn Fighters. The other three were all punished by Grass. If Houndour learned a Grass-type attack, he could keep his identity and still post wins.
The problem: as a Fire-type, Houndour's only listed Grass move was Solar Beam—rare, tutor-gated, and expensive.
Ethan snapped his fingers. "There's another Grass option Houndour can use," he said.
A move old hands used to cover blind spots:
Hidden Power (Grass).