The so-called Ultra Emerald was, in Cliff's previous world, a fan-made masterpiece that iterated on the original Emerald version. It didn't just add Pokémon and regions from later generations; it overhauled the very soul of the game.
The difficulty was leagues beyond the original. NPCs possessed high-level AI that didn't just attack, they calculated. They predicted player switches, targeted weaknesses with ruthless efficiency, used healing items strategically, and exploited held items. In many ways, they played better than actual humans. Furthermore, strict level caps prevented players from simply "grinding" their way to victory. You couldn't overpower the game; you had to outthink it.
Then there was "Insane Mode." It was a hidden difficulty that lived up to its name, a soul-crushing, controller-snapping gauntlet designed to break a player's spirit.
Cliff had taken this foundation and pushed it further. Using the System, he sharpened the AI's tactical edge even more. In a world where everyone lived alongside Pokémon, a standard game would be child's play. If he wanted to farm Emotion Points, he needed his players to feel the heat.
Easy mode can wait, Cliff thought darkly. I need them to sweat.
He dove into the code, his mind a blur of sprites and logic gates. "System, can we implement these environmental modifiers?" [Confirmed. Commencing production.]
With the System's help, Cliff's efficiency was god-like, but perfecting the "Insane Mode" logic still took the entire night.
As the first rays of dawn crept through the grime of his window, Cliff made the final touches. He dragged the folder to the upload portal, held his breath, and clicked. This time, no red error appeared. Instead, four bold, green characters flashed: UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL.
He let out a long, shuddering breath. Without even bothering to turn off his PC, he stumbled toward the bed and collapsed. His new body was weaker than his old one; if he pushed any further, he'd be looking at a second reincarnation.
Within seconds, his breathing leveled out into a deep sleep.
In the shadows behind the curtain, a small figure drifted into the light. It looked like a white candle with deep green eyes and a flickering navy flame atop its head, eerie yet strangely charming. A Litwick.
But this Litwick was weak. Its flame sputtered, nearly extinguished. It was starving. Drawn by the scent of a fresh, vibrant soul, it drifted toward the sleeping Cliff.
So hungry... just a little taste...
It was Saturday. Per League law, most citizens, aside from those in the service industry, were enjoying a day off. In a world starved for quality entertainment, livestreaming was the primary pastime.
On the planet's largest platform, PsyduckTV, a long-dormant room suddenly flickered to life. Within seconds, the viewer count exploded past 100,000.
"She's live! The Goddess is back!" "I've waited a lifetime for this notification!"
The screen flickered on, revealing a desktop wallpaper of a majestic Garchomp in mid-roar. A woman sat before the camera, her presence commanding yet graceful. Her grey eyes were as deep and mysterious as an ancient spring, and her blonde hair flowed like silk over her shoulders.
She was the Champion of the Sinnoh League, the legendary trainer at the pinnacle of power: Cynthia.
"Good morning, everyone," Cynthia said, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "The League has been quiet lately, so I finally have time to chat. Did you miss me?"
The chat became an unreadable blur of marriage proposals and excitement. Cynthia chuckled softly. "You're all as lively as ever. Since we have the whole day, what should we play?"
The suggestions flooded in. Most fans clamored for Battle Path, a combat simulator released by 'Dreamworks' six months ago. Despite its bugs and lazy updates, it was the only game that allowed for somewhat realistic tactical simulations.
Cynthia nodded, clicking the red-and-white Pokéball icon on her desktop. "Battle Path it is, then. It's good practice for, "
She stopped. A prompt blocked her entry. [Fatal Server Error: Connection Failed.]
The chat hissed with venom. "Dreamworks is at it again. Lazy bums." "They make millions and can't buy a decent server."
Cynthia frowned slightly, closing the window. "It seems that's off the table. Any other ideas?"
Amidst the sea of generic suggestions, a bright red "Super Chat" caught her eye. It was from a long-time supporter, Fish-Loving Cat.
[SC]: Nana, the League's official site is running a 'New Indie Promotion.' Maybe check there?
Cynthia navigated to the League's promotion page. Most of it was garbage, reskinned versions of Angry Stone where the Diglett was replaced by a Voltorb or a Miltank.
She was about to close the tab when a thumbnail stopped her heart.
Against a backdrop of swirling emerald mists, the silhouette of a serpentine dragon emerged, surrounded by glowing ancient runes. Even through a low-res preview, the image radiated a terrifying, divine majesty.
Cynthia's eyes widened. This... this is impossible.
As a Mythologist, she recognized that silhouette instantly. It was the legendary ruler of the skies, the Dragon God of myth, Rayquaza.
Knowledge of such High-Legendaries was restricted; most records had been lost to time or fire centuries ago. Yet here it was, rendered with startling accuracy on a game cover.
Her gaze dropped to the developer's name: Cliff.
She'd never heard of him. A pseudonym? She searched for a publisher or company, but found nothing. It was a solo project.
Pokémon: Emerald (Beta Test)
The description was deceptively simple: "Encounter and train various Pokémon, build your team, and embark on a wonderful adventure."
But below that were two lines in warning-red text:
[WARNING: Non-professional trainers are strictly prohibited! This game takes no responsibility for high blood pressure, heart attacks, or sudden cranial hemorrhaging!]
Cynthia's brow arched. High blood pressure? From a video game?
Then, the second line:
[The first player to clear the Beta will receive the Author's private contact info and a 100,000 PokéDollar reward.]
Cynthia didn't care about the money, but the contact info was a different story. If this "Cliff" knew what Rayquaza looked like, he was someone she had to meet.
She clicked "Purchase."
A payment window popped up, and even the unflappable Champion blinked in shock.
[Purchase 'Pokémon: Emerald' for $288. Proceed?]
"$288?" Cynthia murmured.
In a market where "Triple-A" titles barely cost $100, a pixel-art indie game was asking for nearly $300. The audacity was staggering.
The chat was already losing its mind: "Is this a scam?!" "Three hundred bucks for pixels? This Cliff guy is a bandit!"
Cynthia stared at the Rayquaza silhouette. A bandit, or a genius?
She clicked 'Confirm.'