The stats might still say Level 3, but something had changed.
Conditioning, yes. But also mindset. Gible had spent two weeks preparing mentally and physically for what came next.
"After breakfast and the license application," I promised. "Then we'll head to the terrarium and find you a real challenge."
"Gib-gib!" Gible's vocal cry was excited, anticipatory.
I pulled up the system interface to check my progress over the past two weeks:
[Current GP: 525]
[Genetic Optimization Available]
Two weeks of consistent care, bonding, and training had accumulated 450 GP.
Combined with the 75 I'd had after the article submission, I now had enough for another IV optimization with GP to spare.
But not yet. First, I wanted to see what Gible could do without further enhancement.
Breakfast was a small celebration—Oak had arranged for a cake, and even Elara was there, though she kept her distance from Gible.
Oak had prepared this celebration because on my eighteenth birthday, I would be venturing into the world, and we wouldn't have time to celebrate.
"You'll be eighteen soon," Oak said, raising a glass of juice in a toast. "The official age of majority. You can apply for your license today."
"Already planning to," I confirmed. "Right after this."
After breakfast, I returned to my room and opened the Pokémon League website. The application form was straightforward—name, birthdate, sponsor information, starting Pokémon.
When I reached the "Starting Pokémon" field, the dropdown menu listed every known Kanto species. Dragon/Steel wasn't an option.
I selected "Other" and typed manually: Gible (Dragon/Steel, Prism Variant)
The system flagged it immediately with a warning: "Unusual type combination detected. Verification may be required."
I attached a copy of my approved research article as supporting documentation and continued.
Payment: 5,000 Pokédollars, automatically deducted from the Oak family account.
Final confirmation screen:
[Application Submitted Successfully]
[Estimated Processing Time: 14 days]
[License will be mailed to the registered address upon approval]
I closed the laptop and looked at Gible, who had been watching from the cushion beside my desk.
"Application submitted. Two more weeks, then we're officially licensed."
'Two more weeks of waiting?'
"Two more weeks of training," I corrected. "Starting today."
Gible's eyes lit up.
'Finally!'
I pulled up Gible's status screen one more time:
POKÉMON: Gible
Level: 3
HP: 15
ATK: 8
DEF: 9
SP. ATK: 7
SP. DEF: 7
SPEED: 6
Free EVs: 1
Current GP: 525
The numbers hadn't changed, but that didn't matter. Gible was ready. And more importantly, we were ready.
"Come on," I said, heading toward the door. "Let's find you a real challenge."
Behind me, Gible's claws clicked eagerly against the floor as we headed toward the terrarium.
"Gible! Gible-gible!"
We made it halfway through the mansion's main hallway before Gible stopped abruptly.
'Samael. Wait.'
I turned back. "What's wrong?"
Gible's amber eyes looked slightly embarrassed. 'I'm... hungry. Really hungry. Haven't eaten since breakfast, and that was hours ago.'
I checked the time on my phone. It was already past noon. We'd spent the morning dealing with the license application and celebrating, and I'd completely forgotten about lunch.
"You're right. Let me grab some of that Dragon-type food from the lab—"
'No,' Gible interrupted. 'Not that. Something else. Something... hard. Crunchy. My teeth feel weird. Like they need to bite into something solid.'
I frowned, thinking. Gible's teeth had transformed along with the rest of its body—those steel-sharp fangs were designed for more than just soft food. Maybe the little dragon's diet needed to expand beyond the standard fare.
"Let me ask Grandfather," I said, pulling out my phone and calling Oak's lab extension.
He picked up on the second ring. "Samael? Everything alright?"
"Quick question. Gible's saying it's hungry but wants something hard to bite into. The regular Dragon food isn't cutting it."
There was a pause, then Oak's thoughtful voice. "Ah. Yes, that makes sense given the Steel typing. Dragon-types in the wild often supplement their diet with minerals—rocks, metals, certain ores. It helps with scale development and bone density. With Gible's transformation, I imagine the need is even more pronounced."
"So you're saying Gible should eat rocks?"
"Essentially, yes. There are some calcium-rich limestone formations in the eastern section of the terrarium. Perfectly safe for consumption, and they'll provide the minerals Gible needs. Good for teeth maintenance too."
I looked down at Gible, who was listening intently to my side of the conversation.
"Alright. Thanks, Grandfather."
"Just make sure Gible doesn't overdo it," Oak added. "Too much mineral intake at once can cause digestive issues. Start with a small piece."
I hung up and relayed the information to Gible.
'Rocks?' Gible's mental voice was skeptical. 'I'm supposed to eat rocks?'
"According to Oak, yeah. Dragon-types do it naturally. And with your Steel typing, you probably need the minerals even more."
Gible considered this, then nodded slowly. 'Okay. Let's try it. My teeth really do feel weird.'
-------
The eastern terrarium section contained several large limestone deposits—pale-gray rocks with a slightly chalky texture. I could see where some had been chipped away, probably by Pokémon who'd been eating from them over time.
"Pick one," I told Gible. "Not too big. Oak said to start small."
Gible circled the formation, examining different rocks with the intensity of someone selecting produce at a market.
Finally, it settled on a medium-sized chunk about the size of a basketball, partially separated from the primary formation.
'This one. It smells... good? That's weird. Rock shouldn't smell like anything.'
"Your senses are probably picking up the mineral content," I said. "Go ahead. Try breaking off a piece."
Gible backed up several paces, lowered its head, and charged.
The impact was louder than I expected—a sharp crack as Gible's steel-plated head slammed into the limestone. The rock split cleanly down the middle, and Gible stumbled back, shaking its head slightly.
'Ow. That was harder than I thought.'
"You okay?"
'Yeah. Just surprised. The rock didn't give as much as the Budew did.'
One half of the split rock rolled away, revealing...
A very angry Makuhita on the other side.
The Fighting-type was shorter than I expected, maybe three feet tall, with a stocky build and yellow-and-blue coloring.
But what caught my attention was the expression on its face—pure, undiluted rage.
"Maku! Makuhita!" The Fighting-type's voice was sharp, accusatory.
I didn't need Origin Tongue to understand the gist: That was MY rock!
"Gible," I said quietly. "I think we just interrupted its training."
The Makuhita stepped forward, fists raised, and I quickly pulled up its information with Prism Eye.