"Gible, use Dragon Dance!"
"Gible, use Dragon Claw!"
"Gible, use Sand Tomb!"
"Kapu!" "Kapu!" "Kapu!"
Under its Trainer's commands, the little Pokémon bounced around energetically, swinging its short fin-like arms with all its might.
Based on Gible's current stage as a starter Pokémon, Serena had designed what she believed to be a reasonable and efficient training plan.
First and foremost—
That one-of-a-kind Dragon Dance had to be mastered.
This move was Gible's greatest edge—the key to standing out among countless Garchomp, and even among other top-tier Pokémon.
Gible needed to reach the level where it could activate Dragon Dance anytime, anywhere.
Ideally, it would one day be able to dance while dodging or even blocking incoming attacks.
Just like that Scyther in the anime that used Swords Dance to slice straight through a Flamethrower.
With the buff move decided,
the next step was choosing Gible's primary offensive skills.
"Normally, during the baby Pokémon stage, mastering Dragon Rage is a pretty solid choice…"
Serena supervised the training like a strict foreman,
rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she watched.
Dragon Rage:
Deals a fixed 40 HP of damage.
This move ignores type matchups but fails against targets immune to Dragon-type moves.
In high-level competitive battles,
where elite Trainers and powerful Pokémon clashed,
Dragon Rage had almost no place.
Fixed damage.
Forty points.
That was barely a scratch.
What was it supposed to knock out—
a Kricketot? A Caterpie?
But in beginner battles—
the so-called rookie pools and baby formats—
Dragon Rage was terrifyingly effective.
A simple, brainless 40 fixed damage,
used two or three times in a row,
was enough to defeat most starter-stage Pokémon.
No need to calculate type advantages.
No need to overthink.
Perfect for new Trainers.
The problem was—
Dragon Rage's damage never scaled.
No matter how many Dragon Dances Gible used—
even if it stacked six stages of Attack and six stages of Speed—
Dragon Rage would still deal a pitiful 40 damage.
For this Gible—
A Gible that knew Dragon Dance—
Training Dragon Rage beyond its short-term usefulness
simply didn't make sense.
In contrast, mastering Sand Tomb was far more meaningful.
First, because Ground-type was Gible's secondary STAB,
giving it naturally boosted power.
Second, because Sand Tomb trapped the opponent,
preventing them from switching Pokémon.
This allowed Gible to:
Chase down weakened targets
Or calmly stack Dragon Dance buffs while the opponent was stuck
Then—only after fully powering up—
attack at leisure once the trap ended.
If this was a serious battle, then—
Is it really unreasonable
for Gible to first stack six Dragon Dance buffs,
tripling its Attack and Speed,
before continuing the fight?
That wasn't dirty.
That was just being careful.
Pokémon battles were filled with schemes and calculations at every turn.
To become a top-tier Trainer,
knowing type matchups across eighteen elements
was only the most basic entry requirement.
"…Ka… pu…"
After half a day of intensive training,
Gible was completely exhausted.
It collapsed onto the floor, mouth wide open, tongue hanging out,
panting heavily.
"Good work, Gible. Come eat something."
Serena waved it over and prepared a large bowl of Moomoo Milk and Pokémon feed.
Other Trainers might have been able to provide better conditions.
For now, this was the best Serena could do.
Thankfully, this honest little land-shark wasn't picky.
Whether gourmet treats or plain feed—
it was all its Trainer's sincerity.
So—
Eat.
Just eat.
"Kapu~!"
In no time at all, Gible's cheeks puffed up.
It let out a long, satisfied burp and rubbed its round belly.
Full.
Happy.
"…This can't go on forever."
Serena glanced sideways at the now spherical Gible.
It was a blessing that it could eat so well—
it meant fast growth and a stronger body.
But at the same time…
She was worried.
Even without high-end materials like:
Rare berries
Energy cubes
Dragon Fang
Dragon Scale
Just the basic Pokémon feed and Moomoo Milk alone
were being consumed at an alarming rate.
At this pace, her monthly living allowance wouldn't last long.
Surely she and Gible couldn't end up
standing by an open window together,
surviving on fresh air alone?
Late-blooming pseudo-legendaries were notoriously expensive to raise.
That wasn't an exaggeration.
It was the cold, hard truth