The system notifications flooded my vision, each one a testament to what Gible had just accomplished.
[VICTORY!]
[GIBLE defeated GIBLE (Lv. 8)!]
[GIBLE defeated GIBLE (Lv. 9)!]
[GIBLE defeated GIBLE (Lv. 11)!]
[GIBLE gained 415 EXP!]
[+75 GP: Challenging Victory Against Multiple Higher-Level Opponents]
[GIBLE leveled up!]
[GIBLE is now Level 6!]
[GIBLE is now Level 7!]
[HP: 19 → 24]
[ATK: 11 → 14]
[DEF: 12 → 18]
[SP. ATK: 9 → 11]
[SP. DEF: 9 → 11]
[SPEED: 8 → 10]
[Current EXP: 110/180]
[Free EVs: 3]
[Current GP: 860]
I stared at the numbers, processing what I was seeing—two full levels from a single fight. Gible had jumped from Level 5 to Level 7 in one decisive victory.
Three Gibles lay unconscious on the tunnel floor, scattered where Dragon Rage had thrown them.
And Gible was moving toward them.
"What's it doing?" Dr. Tanaka whispered, her voice carrying in the tunnel's silence.
I watched as my partner approached the unconscious Level 8 first. Gible grabbed it by the tail fin and dragged it across the rough stone floor toward the center of the tunnel. The crimson scales scraped against rock, but the unconscious Pokémon didn't stir.
Next was the Level 9. Gible repeated the process, hauling the larger body with surprising strength until it lay beside the first.
Finally, the Level 11. This one was heavier, more muscular, but Gible didn't hesitate. The little dragon dragged it into position, completing the pile.
All three former bullies were stacked together like discarded training dummies.
"I don't understand," Dr. Reyes said, her tablet forgotten in her hands. "Why is it gathering them?"
I had a suspicion, but I stayed silent, watching to see precisely what Gible had planned.
Gible stood over the pile of unconscious Gibles, amber eyes gleaming in the bioluminescent moss light.
The little dragon's posture was different now—not the hunched, defensive stance of the specimen I'd found three weeks ago, but something proud.
Dominant.
Then Gible lifted one leg.
"Oh," Elara said quietly, realization dawning. "Oh, it's—"
The stream was unmistakable. Gible urinated directly onto the pile of defeated opponents, marking them with the kind of territorial dominance I'd only read about in nature documentaries about wild dragons.
Dr. Tanaka turned away, and her face became flushed.
Dr. Reyes covered her mouth, somewhere between shock and inappropriate laughter.
Dr. Chen just stared, professional fascination warring with human discomfort.
Oak chuckled softly. "Well. That's one way to make a point."
When Gible finished, the little dragon turned around and kicked backward with his powerful hind legs. Dirt and loose rocks sprayed over the unconscious pile, covering them in a layer of debris like a predator burying its kill.
The message was clear: You're beneath me now. You're nothing.
Satisfied with the work, Gible trotted back to me, scales gleaming, head held high.
"Gible!" The vocal cry was triumphant, almost joyful.
'Did I do good?' The mental voice through Origin Tongue carried both pride and a need for validation.
"You did perfectly," I said, crouching down to meet Gible's eyes. "You showed them exactly what you've become. They'll never forget this."
'They hurt me. They called me defective. They said I'd never be strong.'
"And now they're unconscious in the dirt," I said quietly. "While you're proving every single one of them wrong."
Gible leaned into my hand, accepting the praise, and I felt the bond between us pulse with shared satisfaction.
Behind us, Dr. Chen cleared her throat, professional composure struggling back into place. "That was... eventful. Dragon-type territorial behavior. Dominance display. I've read about such actions but never witnessed them firsthand."
"It's more common in the wild," Oak explained, stepping forward to examine the unconscious Gibles from a safe distance. "Dragons establish hierarchy through combat and subsequent marking. Gible's behavior is textbook, actually. Brutal, but textbook."
"The power display itself was extraordinary," Dr. Reyes said, her voice steadier now. "A Level 5 Gible—"
"Level 7 now," I corrected, standing. "Gible just leveled up twice from that battle."
All three researchers froze.
"Twice?" Dr. Chen repeated. "From a single encounter?"
"Fighting opponents significantly stronger than you provides exponentially more growth than grinding against weaker targets."
"We have everything we need," Dr. Chen said finally. "The Prism Transformation is verified. The unusual moveset is documented. The exceptional combat capability is witnessed and recorded." She looked at me directly.
"Your article was conservative, if anything. This Pokémon is far more remarkable than the documentation suggested."
"Gible is my partner," I said. "Not a research specimen. I hope that's clear in your report."
Dr. Chen's expression softened slightly. "It will be. The bond between trainer and Pokémon is as much a part of this phenomenon as the genetic transformation itself. That will be noted."
She extended her hand again, and I shook it.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Samael Oak. The Pokémon Research Consortium will publish our verification within the week. Your discovery will be officially recognized."
"And the three unconscious Gibles?" Dr. Reyes asked, gesturing toward the pile.
"Will wake up in a few hours with sore bodies and damaged pride," Oak said. "They'll be fine. Probably more cautious about picking fights in the future."
We began making our way back through the tunnels, leaving the defeated Gibles behind. The walk back was quieter, the researchers processing what they'd witnessed, occasionally murmuring to each other and checking their tablets.
When we emerged into the terrarium, the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the artificial sky felt almost surreal after the tunnel's darkness.
Dr. Chen turned to Oak. "We'll see ourselves out, Professor. Thank you again for facilitating this examination."
"Of course," Oak said. "Safe travels back to the Consortium headquarters."
The three researchers gathered their equipment, exchanged final pleasantries, and departed through the terrarium's main entrance.
I watched them go, knowing that within days, the scientific community would be analyzing every detail of what had just happened.
When they were gone, Oak turned to Elara and me, his expression shifting from professional courtesy to something more serious.
"It's time," he said.
"Time?" I asked, though I had a feeling I knew what he meant.
"To board the train," Oak confirmed. "We need to reach Pallet Town before your eighteenth birthday. The journey takes a week, and we're cutting it close as is."
I blinked. "Wait. The train? To Pallet Town? I thought we were already—"
"The Oak Estate is a research facility," Oak explained, already walking toward the terrarium exit. "It's off the grid, isolated, perfect for conducting studies without interference. But it's not Pallet Town. Pallet Town is where my main laboratory is located. Where trainers officially begin their journeys. Where you'll need to be to receive your license."
Elara was already moving, heading toward what I assumed was her quarters to gather belongings. "I'll pack quickly, Professor."
"As will I," Oak said. "Samael, gather whatever you need for the journey. We leave within the hour."
Forty minutes later, I stood in my bedroom at the Oak Estate, looking around at the space that had been my home for the past three weeks. A duffel bag sat on the bed, half-packed with clothes, basic supplies, and the few personal items I'd accumulated since transmigrating into this world.
Gible sat on the cushion, watching me with curious eyes.
'We're leaving?' the little dragon asked.
"Yeah," I confirmed, folding another shirt into the bag. "Heading to Pallet Town. That's where the journey officially starts."
'The real journey. Not just training in the terrarium.'
"The real journey," I agreed. "Wild Pokémon. Other trainers. Gym battles. Everything we've been preparing for."
I looked down at my partner, at the crimson scales that gleamed even in the bedroom's artificial light, at the confident posture that had replaced the hunched defensiveness of three weeks ago.
"Are you ready for this?" I asked.
Gible's response was immediate. 'I'm ready. As long as we are together.'
I smiled, zipped the duffel bag closed, and slung it over my shoulder. "Then let's go."