If Nova had been born into this world without any talent for Pokémon — no system, no edge — and had to pick a reliable career, he would have chosen something in media or public relations without a second thought.
This world hadn't yet collapsed into the kind of attention-chasing noise he remembered from his past life, where anyone with a screen and something outrageous to say could pull in a crowd. Here, people still read things with a degree of good faith. They hadn't been worn down by years of manufactured drama and clickbait cycles. The old tricks would land much harder in a world that hadn't built up immunity to them yet.
Every time he spotted something that passed for a trending topic in this world, a small part of him couldn't help mapping out exactly how much louder it could get with the right push. It was, he admitted to himself, a professional habit. He had clearly spent too long studying how stories spread.
He wasn't sure whether any of it would work here. But he was willing to find out — at least once — and he wanted to try it for Jenny and her grandmother.
Granny had given decades of her life to this kennel. Every pup in that nursery existed because of her care, her knowledge, and her stubbornness. It felt wrong to let all of that simply end quietly, unnoticed, in a mountain town that most people had never heard of. She deserved better than that.
Of course, none of it would move forward without the consent of both women.
After finishing his inspection of the final litter, Nova sat down with Granny and Officer Jenny and laid out what he had in mind.
Jenny stared at him for a long moment when he finished. Granny appeared to be somewhere else entirely, her thoughts drifting the way they sometimes did when the topic wandered too far from Pokémon.
"Do you actually think this will work?" Jenny asked.
"I can't promise anything," Nova said honestly. "But I'd rather people remembered what your grandmother built here than have it disappear without anyone noticing."
Jenny hesitated. She worried that drawing attention would disturb the quiet retirement Granny deserved. But before she could say so, the old woman surfaced from her thoughts and looked up.
"That sounds lovely, doesn't it?" Granny Zhao said, with a small, clear-eyed smile. "More people would get to know my darlings."
That settled it. The disruption was real, but the elder didn't mind — she only cared that every pup she had raised ended up somewhere it would be loved and valued. Jenny let out a quiet breath and nodded.
The plan was decided. The details, however, would have to wait until they were back in Forest City. The Kennels sat deep enough in the hills that there was no signal to speak of, and Nova had no way to put his ideas into motion from there.
Before they left, he had one more question.
"I've been meaning to ask — how did you end up with a Hisuian Growlithe? That regional form is incredibly hard to come by."
Granny Zhao brightened at once.
"Ah, that little one," she said warmly. "Its mother was one of ours — an Arcanine raised right here in this kennel. Her Trainer was a League explorer and ecology researcher, a serious one. Years ago, the two of them went into a protected wilderness area with Hisui-origin ecology — one of those remote zones that almost nobody visits. They fell in love with the place and never came back. Settled there permanently."
She chuckled softly.
"While they were living out there, the Arcanine found a partner — a Hisuian Arcanine from the zone itself. Every few years since then, her Trainer sends us an Egg. She hopes that one of the offspring might be born in a modern environment, see what comes of mixing those bloodlines. She trusts us with the Eggs because she's trusted this kennel for years."
Her expression shifted, just slightly.
"But none of the earlier Eggs produced a Hisuian form. That little Growlithe is the first one born here with the old lineage showing through. And now —" she spread her hands — "now I won't breed anymore. If things had gone differently, we might have established a proper modern line of Hisuian Arcanine over time."
Nova absorbed that quietly. A stable modern population of Hisuian Arcanine would have been a significant development for any serious trainer. The Hisuian form — with its Rock-type alongside Fire — brought a combination that few opponents were prepared for. If Granny had managed to develop that line, every Norlandia Conference would have looked very different.
"So," Jenny said, watching him, "you're interested in that pup, then? Is that what you want as your fee?"
Nova didn't answer right away. If the plan worked the way he hoped, that Hisuian Growlithe was going to attract a great deal of attention on its own. He also hadn't had a proper chance to assess it yet — he had only caught a quick reading during the feeding chaos and noted its potential tier. He wanted to sit down with the purple-tagged pups more carefully before making any decisions.
That evening, after dinner, Nova and Jenny rode Arcanine back to Forest City. Once he was back at the inn, he got to work.
Nidoking and Corviknight had, predictably, eaten their way through two full meals at the kennel and were now sprawled across the floor of the room like they owned it. Nova looked at them, noted that they had apparently competed with the nursery pups for premium food, felt a brief flicker of something between exasperation and respect, and then ignored them completely.
He opened his laptop and pulled up the regional Trainer forums.
The forums were reasonably open — any registered Trainer, whether professional or casual, could create an account after confirming they owned at least one Pokémon. There was no strict limit on how many accounts one person could hold, as long as each was verified separately.
Nova's main account was registered under his Nidorino — back when the Pokémon was still at that stage. Now that it had evolved into Nidoking, he could use the evolved form to verify a new alternate account. He could also register under Corviknight.
He chose the quicker option. He pulled Corviknight's head toward him, got a photo for the verification process, and submitted it. Within a few minutes the new account was active.
He opened a new thread.
The post was written in his own voice, framed as a personal account. A semi-professional trainer, passing through the hills near Forest City, stumbles onto a small breeding kennel that turns out to be unlike anything he expected — a diverse and carefully maintained collection of canine-type Pokémon, some of which appear to carry potential that reaches all the way to the top level of competitive play.
Once the post was live, Nova contacted the forum administrators and paid three thousand League Coins out of his own pocket to have it pinned to the front page.
Paid placement was a legitimate feature on the forums — usually used by trainers urgently searching for a specific item, or sellers with time-sensitive stock. It wasn't unusual for someone to use it for promotional purposes either, though most who did simply posted a direct advertisement and waited for buyers to show up.
That wasn't what Nova was going for. A blunt sales post would bring buyers. What he wanted was something louder than that — enough to make people stop and pay attention before they even knew what they were looking at.
So he chose his title carefully.
"You won't believe what I found near Forest City — the biggest opportunity of the year, and most people are going to miss it completely."