"Wait, what?"
Herta's sharp distinction caught Julian completely off guard, leaving him standing there in stunned silence.
Replacing the mind entirely? A cold, tech-driven version of soul-snatching? That felt far too ruthless, stripping away whatever innocent spark the newborn clone possessed.
Yet if he merely grafted the digital memories over a fresh, untamed mind, the creature's personality might end up completely detached from the companion a Trainer had spent months bonding with in the game.
Neither path felt right.
Julian knew Herta was far too sharp not to understand what he was really looking for; she was simply amusing herself by giving him a hard time.
"Is there really no middle ground?" Julian asked, refusing to take the bait.
"Tch. Of course there is, but you'll have to take that up with Screwllum," Herta said, waving a hand dismissively. "I have no desire to waste my hours on such sentimental nonsense."
To Herta, code was code, and a machine was a machine. She would never invest genuine affection into simulated data, let alone build complex emotional bridges for it. In her eyes, that kind of project was a pure waste of breath.
Julian was just about to ask who could introduce him to the gentleman from Planet Screwllum when Herta casually added:
"Don't bother looking for a courier. Screwllum is due at the station in a few days anyway. You can ask him yourself when he docks."
Julian nodded with a grateful smile and took his leave from the subterranean data vault.
Stephen was handling companion foods and field gear. Ruan Mei had solved the physical breeding process. Herta was taking on the interstellar network framework. And if Screwllum could be persuaded to bridge digital memories into living minds...
Without even realizing it, Julian had effectively recruited Herta's entire core research circle into developing the world of Pokémon.
Of course, the only reason these reclusive minds were willing to lend a hand was that each of them found a unique puzzle to unravel within the project. The phenomenon itself carried enough weight to catch their attention.
As for the rest of the Genius Society, very few members were active across the known galaxy. There was Yu Qingtu, though Julian had only seen her name referenced in old texts and knew almost nothing about her habits. Beyond that, the roster was either filled with dangerous recluses like Dr. Primitive, or elusive figures like Polka Kakamu.
Then there was Anaxagoras, the remnant clone on Amphoreus, who certainly didn't seem like someone open to casual collaboration.
With the primary agreements settled, Julian prepared to head back to the Luofu.
As for the four newborn Pokémon, considering the diplomatic storm that might erupt if he carried them straight to Xianzhou territory, he decided to leave them in the station's nursery under the watchful eyes of Asta and Stephen for the time being.
Meanwhile, back in the community, the pace of exploration had slowed, but players had finally pieced together the major chapters of ancient Sinnoh history.
In particular, the truth behind the Creation Trio—Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina—and the myth of the primordial creator, Arceus, had finally come to light.
"Talk about planning ahead! It turns out Julian had the entire cosmic hierarchy mapped out from the very beginning!"
"Wait, are you telling me the company was named after the creator god of the universe all along?!"
"Just looking at the name, which sounds completely foreign to Xianzhou naming conventions, you can tell it was set in stone from day one."
"A primordial creator god?! I just want to know one thing: can we catch it in a ball?!"
"Catching the creator of all things? Dream on. But catching the rulers of time and space actually seems possible!"
"Streamer, stop stalling! Push into the inner sanctum already!"
The person sitting in front of the camera right now was none other than Qingque.
"Hold on, still going? I'm exhausted today, how about we pick this up tomorrow?"
Qingque rubbed her temples with an exaggerated sigh of weariness. Her acting was so natural and practiced that ordinary folks would never doubt her, though Fu Xuan would have seen through the little performance in a heartbeat.
Not that seeing through it helped, since Fu Xuan generally knew better than to rely on Qingque's excuses anyway.
While Fu Xuan had been acting as General, Qingque and a few senior diviners had been drafted into managing the day-to-day operations of the Divination Commission. Fu Xuan knew that when Qingque actually worked, her sharp mind cleared tasks faster than three people combined.
Even so, that stretch of constant duty had nearly drained Qingque dry.
The worst part was having zero time to slack off, which she found completely unbearable.
Now that Jing Yuan had resumed his duties and returned Fu Xuan to her desk, the Master Diviner was in such high spirits that she granted Qingque an extended leave. Left with endless free hours, Qingque decided to boot up a stream to earn some extra pocket money.
As a diviner, her mind worked fast.
Back during the closed beta, when several colleagues bought access passes through her connections, Qingque had spotted the trend immediately: her old acquaintance's game was going to take the stars by storm.
She had launched her stream back then, but being an undisputed master of slacking off, she treated streaming with the exact same casual laziness. While playing Pokémon, she was just as likely to tab out to play celestial tiles. That lack of focus was why her viewer numbers had hovered at a modest level.
Still, as an early veteran of the game, she had caught the massive wave of new players. Streaming for two hours a day gave her more than enough spending credits to fund her tile games without touching her savings.
She was just as fascinated by the Sinnoh ruins as anyone else, but for her, exploring old temples felt less like work and more like digging up juicy ancient gossip. That natural curiosity kept her moving forward, aided by viewer tips, playful threats of unfollowing, and generous donations.
Otherwise, she would have spent the afternoon shuffling tiles instead of solving ruin puzzles.
Suddenly, ten golden starship donation banners streaked across her broadcast feed in rapid succession.
Qingque sat up straight, her eyes lighting up with genuine enthusiasm.
"Thank you for the starships! Right, right, no more slacking off! Advancing the main story right this second!"
Ten starships equaled thirty thousand credits, nearly three months of her baseline commission salary.
Qingque immediately steered her character deeper into the ruins.
Working through the puzzles with practiced speed, she cleared the Temple of Time, the Temple of Space, and the Temple of the Void one after another, giving viewers a front-row seat to the overwhelming power of the Creation Trio.
Finally, she stepped onto the marble dais of the Spear Pillar, the legendary altar where the creator was said to slumber.
The moment her boots crossed the threshold, the golden light of Arceus flared, and the screen flashed straight into a combat stance.
"Wait, what? No opening dialogue? We're jumping straight into a fight?"
Qingque was puzzled, but having just conquered the Three Gods, she didn't panic. Tossing out her first partner, she sent Staraptor into the air.
"Staraptor, Quick Attack!"
Staraptor folded its wings and dove forward like an arrow. Arceus merely looked on with calm, impassive eyes, making no effort to dodge.
The next second, Staraptor slammed headfirst into an invisible, shimmering barrier surrounding the deity. The impact didn't leave a scratch on Arceus, but the severe recoil sent Staraptor tumbling backward through the air, shaking its head in pain.
Arceus cast a cold, indifferent glance toward Staraptor, then shifted its gaze to Qingque. It didn't bother to retaliate, yet that single look sent a cold chill down Qingque's spine.
She had felt serious pressure when facing the Three Gods, but compared to the aura radiating from this presence, the difference was like a candle against the sun.
"If Normal-type moves don't make a dent, try Flying! Staraptor, Air Slash!"
Assuming the opponent carried an immunity or high defensive resistance, Qingque adjusted her approach according to standard battle logic.
Sharp blades of pressurized wind cut through the hall toward the golden deity.
Yet the moment the wind blades drew near, they simply vanished into thin air, leaving not a ripple behind.
Fine, a creator deity having absurd baseline defenses makes sense, Qingque thought, calling her bird back.
She immediately swapped in Torterra, ordering a volley of Grass and Dark-type attacks. Knowing the target was floating off the ground, she skipped Ground-type moves entirely.
The result was identical: every strike dissolved on contact.
"I don't believe this!"
Frustrated, Qingque called forth the rest of her roster. Garchomp, Lucario, Abomasnow, and Electivire unleashed their strongest moves all at once, filling the grand hall with an overlapping storm of fire, ice, thunder, and dragon breath that ended in a massive, blinding blast.
When the smoke cleared, the white figure stood untouched, surrounded by its faint, rotating ring of golden plates.
"Wait, is this thing literally cheating?!" Qingque stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. "Don't tell me this guy is immune to every single element in the game?!"
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