Welcome my dearies to a new pokemon fic by your Shameless Author .
It's kinda different from traditional fics.
Enjoy...
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The ceiling fan wobbled dangerously above Aryan's head, each rotation producing a mechanical grinding sound that served as his morning alarm.
He stared at the spinning blades for a long moment, the memories of his past life as a 23 year old mechanical engineering graduate layering totally uncomfortably over his current reality.
It had been a week since he woke up in this room, in this body, and in this world that was both intimately familiar and terrifyingly different.
He was Aryan now, a 16 year old orphan living in a cramped one-room apartment in the crowded district of Trivandrum, located in the southern tip of the vast Indian Subcontinent, which was now politically classified as part of the greater Kanto jurisdiction under the United Pokemon Nation.
He sat up and rubbed his face, feeling the headache which was becoming .
The calendar on the peeling wall marked the date: May 12th, Year 50 of the New Era.
Fifty years since the arrival, 50 years since the laws of physics decided to share space with biological monsters that breathed fire, summoned storms, and defied every known principle of biology.
In his old world, Pokémon were a franchise, a collection of cards and games that he had obsessed over since childhood. He knew their stats, their hidden abilities, their evolution thresholds, and the things that dictated their damage output. Here, that knowledge wasn't a hobby, It was the difference between being a elite and being a starving commoner.
Aryan walked to the small window that overlooked the street below. Trivandrum was a bustle of activity, but it wasn't the high-tech city of his memories.
The technology here was stunted, trapped in a strange aesthetic that resembled the late 1990s of his old Earth. Bulky crt televisions were still the norm, cars were blocky and fuel-heavy, and smartphones were simply nonexistent.The rapid advancement of the internet and digital communication had been strangled in the crib by the emergence of magnetic, electric, and psychic monsters that made global satellite networks unreliable.
Humanity had adapted by focusing on biotechnology and containment rather than internet and software.The world had gone tall and dense, fortifying cities against the wild zones that surrounded them.
Below him, a man in a khaki uniform was struggling to control a Machop that was helping unload heavy crates from a delivery truck.
The fighting-type Pokémon looked agitated, its grey skin flushed a darker shade as it slammed a wooden crate down with too much force, cracking the timber.The handler shouted, raising a thick, rubberized cane and striking the creature across the back. Aryan watched with a cold, analytical gaze. He didn't need a Pokedex to see what was wrong. The Machop was exhausted and suffering from a status condition, likely minor poisoning from the from spoiled food, which was making it irritable and prone to lashing out. But to the handler, it was just a disobedient beast that needed discipline. This was the reality of the world.
Knowledge was hoarded by the Academies, accessible only to the wealthy and the nobility who could afford the tuition. Commoners were left to guess, treating Pokémon like dangerous livestock rather than complex biological partners.
He turned away from the window and just grabbed his faded canvas bag.
Today was a significant day, though not for him personally, or so he told himself.
The District Mayor, Mr. Pillai, was holding a press conference regarding the upcoming "Commoner's Hope " initiative.
It was a political stunt designed to quell the rising unrest in the lower districts.The promise was simple and seductive, government would distribute twenty Pokémon eggs to eligible 16 year olds who had failed to secure Academy placement.
It was a lottery for the desperate. In this world, obtaining a Trainer License required passing a rigorous exam or graduating from a certified Academy.
The only loophole was to be sponsored by a government official or to register a Pokémon obtained through a legal government distribution.
Aryan checked his wallet.
He had three hundred rupees and It was enough for food for two days if he was careful. His part time job at the scrap yard barely paid the rent, and his debt to the local landlord was accumulating interest.
He needed a way out, he needed that license and If he could become a Trainer, he could enter the District League.
Even placing in the top fifty provided a stipend greater than a year's wages at the scrap yard. But to enter the League, he needed a Pokémon and not just any Pokémon.
He needed one that could survive. The mortality rate for commoner trainers was disturbingly high. They went into the wild with Rattatas and Pidgeys, unprepared for the aggression of territory holding monsters.
He stepped out of his apartment and locked the flimsy plywood door.
The hallway smelled of damp concrete and frying spices. As he walked down the stairs, he passed Mrs. Nair, his neighbor, who was feeding a stray Meowth some leftovers.
The Meowth was scrawny, its coin battered and dull. It hissed at Aryan as he passed, its claws extending instinctively.
He ignored it as his mind was occupied with the map of the world he had been reconstructing in his head over the last week.
The geopolitical landscape was a strange fusion of his old world's geography and the game's regions. Asia was the Kanto stronghold. Europe had become the elegant but militaristic Kalos. America was the industrial powerhouse of Sinnoh, and Africa was the wild, untamed frontier of Johto, Australia was the deserted unova and coincidentally Greenland became Alola.
The United Pokémon Nation, or UPN, governed it all from a distance, but local power lay with the Leagues.
The Champions were the true kings of this era. Aryan recalled reading the newspaper yesterday.
It spoke of the Border Tension between the Kanto and Johto administrations. Apparently, a migration of wild Rhyhorn had destroyed farmland, and the blame was being shifted back and forth.
It was a volatile world where a single Tyranitar could level a city block and a Gyarados could sink a naval fleet, in this world he was just a boy with no money, no parents, and a head full of data that no one else believed existed.
He reached the street level and merged into the crowd. He wasn't going to the scrap yard today. He was going to the Town Hall.
He needed to see these eggs and he needed to know if the Commoner's Hope was a genuine opportunity or just another way for the elite to dump their trash on the poor.
He adjusted his glasses, a habit from his old life, and focused.
A transparent, blue holographic screen flickered into existence at the edge of his vision. It was faint, ghostly, and entirely invisible to everyone else. It was the one thing he had brought with him, the one variable that defied the logic of this gritty reality.
[System Active]
[Observation Module: Online]
He looked at a Pidgey perched on a telephone wire.
> Species: Pidgey
> Type: Normal / Flying
> Level: 4 (Novice)
> Potential: E (Grey)
> Status: Healthy
It was a weak, common bird, Useless for competitive battling but the text confirmed his advantage. He could see the hidden value in things and now he just needed to find something worth seeing.
The walk to the Town Hall took him through the market district. Stalls lined the street, selling everything from fresh vegetables to second-hand mechanical parts. Occasionally, he would see a Trainer, a real one walking with an air of arrogance.They were easy to spot as they wore clean, specialized clothing made of synthetic materials resistant to burns and cuts.
At their waists, they carried belts with Poké Balls, distinct red and white spheres that represented power and authority.
Aryan watched a young man in an Academy uniform walk past, a Growlithe trotting faithfully at his heel.The Growlithe looked well fed, its fur glossy and clean.
Aryan focused his eyes.
> Species: Growlithe
> Type: Fire
> Level: 12 (Beginner)
> Potential: B (Blue)
> Status: Peak Condition
A B-Rank whichwas considered excellent. That Growlithe alone was worth more than Aryan would make in ten years.
The unfairness of it burned in his chest, fueled by the memories of his own struggles in his previous life. He had worked hard then, studied hard, only to end up getting unemployed and in debt.
Now, he was starting from zero again, but this time, the rules were different as this time, he could see the ending.
He arrived at the Town Hall square. A large crowd had already gathered. Mostly teenagers his age, dressed in worn clothes, looking hopeful and anxious.
A wooden stage had been erected, and banners with the UPN logo, a stylized Poké Ball overlaid on a globe hung from the pillars.
The Mayor, a portly man with a glistening forehead, was stepping up to the attached microphone. Behind him, on a long table covered in red velvet, sat twenty incubators. Inside them were the eggs.
They were the rejects, Aryan could tell from a distance. Some were discolored, others were smaller than average.
The Academy took the best; the leftovers went to the people to buy their loyalty but Aryan didn't care about the odds.
He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the shoves and the complaints, until he was close enough to see the indicators. He didn't need to guess, he just needed to scan.
He scanned the first egg.
> Species: Rattata
> Potential: D (White)
No use....trash
He moved his gaze to the next.
> Species: Spearow
> Potential: C (Green)
Average, maybe good for a delivery job, but not for the League.
He went down the line, his eyes flickering rapidly. Zubat (D-Rank), Geodude (C-Rank), Sandshrew (D-Rank). It was a graveyard of potential, there were some good ones but not exceptional ones.
The government wasn't giving them hope; they were giving them pets. Disappointment began to settle in his stomach, maybe this was a waste of time.
Then, his eyes landed on the end of the table, there was an egg there that looked different. It wasn't like an egg, It was smooth, metallic, and grey, sitting heavily in its incubator.
It looked like a cannonball. A sign in front of it read: Unknown Specimen - Recovered from Kolar Mine Excavation.
Most of the kids were ignoring it, drawn to the more colorful, patterned eggs, which could also indicate the typing, It looked dead and looked like a rock.
Aryan focused and the blue text expanded.
> Species: Beldum
> Type: Steel / Psychic
> Level: 1 (Novice)
> Potential: S (Gold)
> Status: Dormant (Requires Extra Magnetic Stimulation)
Aryan's breath hitched...S-Rank...Gold and especially a Beldum....A pseudo legendary in the making and It was sitting right there, disguised as a piece of industrial scrap, ignored by everyone.
His heart hammered against his ribs.This was it, this was his ticket but getting it wouldn't be simple, he wasn't the only one with eyes, even if he was the only one with a System.
He needed a plan, and he needed to make sure that when the lottery numbers were called, that metal ball ended up in his hands.
Authors Note:-
It's very large chapter than usual with 2k words.
Well I wanna say , whenever I am stressed , I always insert myself into the characters I like to remove myself from the world 🌎.
I have always dreamed of a earth with pokemons.
So this is something like that.....
Like my other stories.... please support your shameless Author with power stones and collections.