It was as if Garchomp's evolutionary line were afflicted by some kind of cruel curse.
Under normal circumstances, Gible, Gabite, and Garchomp were completely unable to learn Dragon Dance by any means.
Not through leveling up.
Not through breeding.
Not through Technical Machines.
Not even through specialized move tutors.
And yet—
If one were to manufacture a Dragon Dance TM,
one of its key raw materials came from shed Gible scales.
"…."
Serena refused to believe that the Pokémon game designers didn't have some kind of grudge against Cynthia.
Otherwise—
Why could so many other Dragon-type Pokémon—
and even Pokémon that weren't Dragon-type at all—
Learn Dragon Dance freely…
Yet Garchomp, of all Pokémon, absolutely could not?
Fine.
If Garchomp was simply born incompatible with Dragon Dance, so be it.
But requiring Gible scales to craft a Dragon Dance TM?
That was malice.
Pure, undisguised malice.
It felt deliberately designed just to disgust Garchomp fans.
If Cynthia were here, she'd probably be in tears.
"Kapu~ Kapu~"
The little Gible before her still had innocent, childlike eyes.
It had absolutely no idea that the monumental responsibility of
"Restoring Garchomp's lost glory—starting with Dragon Dance Gible"
had already landed on its tiny shoulders.
The gears of fate had begun to turn.
And once in motion, they would never stop.
Gible polished off its Moomoo Milk and Pokémon feed in record time.
It wasn't picky at all—
everything tasted good to it.
Patting its round red belly, Gible let out a satisfied burp.
"Kapu…"
Then it tipped over sideways like a basketball and sprawled flat on the floor.
Breakfast was officially over.
After letting Gible rest and digest for a short while,
Serena took it with her and headed toward Shanghai University's sports complex, ready to begin formal training.
The night before, she'd spent a long time planning ahead—
mapping out training routes, move combinations, and battle strategies for Gible.
But—
Theory learned from books always feels shallow.
True understanding comes only from practice.
Raising a Pokémon wasn't something you could accomplish just by talking.
Only real action would reveal the answers.
Shanghai University had multiple indoor gyms and outdoor training fields.
Inside the larger facilities, aside from standard battle arenas,
there were also numerous individual training rooms,
primarily used by Pokémon Battle majors and rookie trainers.
These were supported by:
Pokémon Breeding majors
Pokémon Medical students and trainee nurses
Over time, universities across the region had developed a mature, self-sustaining Pokémon ecosystem.
Someone once said—
At first, there is no road. But as people walk it, a road is formed.
Societal systems worked the same way.
In a world with Pokémon, society naturally evolved into a form suited to them.
Unfortunately, training alongside classmates didn't apply to Serena.
She wasn't a Pokémon Battle major.
She studied Business Administration,
and didn't know any Battle students, Breeders, or trainee Pokémon nurses.
Which meant—
She had to train alone.
Solo.
A lone wolf.
Serena mentally corrected herself.
Not a lone wolf.
A Zacian.
In its crowned form.
Zamazenta, somewhere in the distance:
"…And what about me?"
Zacian:
Share the blessings, share the burden, little brother.
"I'd like to apply for a private training room,"
Serena said politely to one of the facility administrators.
"Student card," the administrator replied lazily.
"I need to check your remaining hours."
The scanner beeped.
Student: Serena
Major: Business Administration
Remaining Training Room Time: 100 hours
"…You still have a hundred hours left," the administrator said in surprise.
"You've basically never used the facilities."
"And you're not even a Pokémon Battle major."
Shanghai University didn't discriminate between Pokémon-related and non-Pokémon majors.
As long as you were a student,
you were entitled to a certain amount of free facility time.
After all, even non-Battle students could raise Pokémon as companions.
That was perfectly normal in this world.
However—
Seeing Serena arrive with a pseudo-legendary Pokémon
left the bored administrator completely stunned.
A Gible.
A Pokémon of this caliber.
Even among Battle majors, very few top students had Pokémon like that.
What kind of beginner starter lineup came with a pseudo-legendary?
At the very least, that kind of Pokémon usually belonged to the child of a Dragon-type Gym Leader—
or the successor of a regional Dragon-type Elite.
And yet—
According to the student record—
She wasn't even a Battle major.
"What?" Serena asked calmly.
"Are non-Battle majors not allowed to apply for private rooms?"
"That's not it," the administrator shook his head.
"It's just… rare."
Rare?
That word triggered something dangerous.
Who are you calling rare?!
She took a deep breath.
Calm.
Calm down.