Chapter 6: Burning Ember
In this world, the phrase "Harmonious Coexistence" wasn't just corporate PR fluff plastered on billboards or muttered by politicians during election season. It was the messy, vibrant, undeniable reality of daily life.
Oakhaven City was a living testament to it. If you looked out the window, you wouldn't just see traffic and pedestrians. You'd see Squirtles helping sanitation workers spray down the sidewalks. You'd see delivery drivers riding on the backs of rapidashes, weaving through gridlock. You'd see Pidgeys nesting on the traffic lights, squawking at jaywalkers, and Machops working construction, lifting steel girders that would break a crane.
Pokémon were everywhere. They were the heartbeat of the city.
For Leo Vance, who had transmigrated here exactly one week ago, this should have been paradise. He was a lifelong fan, a guy who had spent thousands of hours staring at a Game Boy screen, dreaming of this exact scenario.
But the cruel irony of adulthood is that dreams usually cost money.
For the past seven days, Leo had been a prisoner in his own studio apartment. He'd seen plenty of Pokémon—from a distance. He'd watched a Meowth grooming itself on a fire escape. He'd seen a college girl walking her Eevee to the park. He'd seen flocks of Spearow circling the skyscrapers.
But he hadn't touched one. He hadn't spoken to one. He hadn't bonded with one.
Why? Because his bank account had been hovering in the single digits. When you're one missed payment away from being evicted by a landlord who looks like he eats gravel for breakfast, you don't have time to go frolic in the tall grass. You stay inside, you eat instant noodles, and you code until your eyes bleed.
So, for a week, his interaction with the magical creatures of this world had been precisely zero.
Until now.
Now, the contact was immediate, personal, and terrifyingly close.
Leo scrambled backward, his heels catching on the rug, until his back hit the peeling wallpaper. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs like a drum solo.
"Okay," he breathed, his voice trembling. "Okay. What is that?"
Hovering in the center of his dingy room, illuminated by the sickly yellow streetlights filtering through the blinds, was a ghost.
It was small, shaped like a melting glob of white wax. It had two tiny, stubby arms and a round, innocent face. But what caught Leo's attention—what made his gamer brain short-circuit—was the flame burning atop its head.
It wasn't the standard purple fire of a normal Litwick. It was a deep, mesmerizing, spectral blue. And its eyes weren't yellow; they were a vivid, piercing green.
A Shiny Litwick.
Leo blinked, trying to process the statistical impossibility of this. The odds of encountering a shiny Pokémon in the wild were something like 1 in 4,096. The odds of one breaking into your apartment while you slept? Astronomical.
But then the lore kicked in, overriding the excitement.
Litwick. The Candle Pokémon. Ghost/Fire type.
Leo's mind flashed to the Pokédex entries he'd memorized back on Earth. "Litwick shines a light that absorbs the life energy of people and Pokémon, which becomes the fuel that it burns.""While shining a light and pretending to be a guide, it leeches off the life force of any who follow it."
Leo swallowed hard, his throat dry. This wasn't a cute pet. This was a supernatural parasite. A soul-eater. And it was floating three feet away from his face.
"Did you..." Leo checked his hands, then patted his chest. He felt solid. He felt alive. "Did you come to eat me?"
The Litwick stared at him. The room was dead silent, save for the hum of the computer tower.
Leo retreated another step, expecting the creature to launch a Shadow Ball or hit him with a Confuse Ray. But the Litwick didn't move. It just hovered there, bobbing slightly in the air currents.
Leo squinted. Now that the initial panic was fading, he noticed something else.
The blue flame on the Litwick's head was pathetic. It wasn't a roaring blaze; it was a sputtering spark, barely the size of a match head. It looked like it was fighting to stay lit. The Pokémon's waxy body looked dull, almost gray in the dim light.
It's weak, Leo realized. It's starving.
If this thing had been snacking on his soul all night, it should be bursting with energy. It should be glowing like a neon sign. Instead, it looked like it was about to faint.
"You didn't eat," Leo whispered, the realization hitting him.
"Lit..."
The Pokémon made a soft, mournful sound. It wasn't a growl. It was a whimper.
Leo frowned. He couldn't understand the language, but the tone was universal.
"Lit-wick! Lit!"
The creature cried out again, more urgently this time. It raised one of its stubby white arms and pointed at its midsection—or where a stomach would be, if ghosts had internal organs. It rubbed its belly with a sad expression.
Leo slowly lowered his guard. He stood up straight, dusting off his pants.
"You're hungry?" he asked.
The Litwick's eyes widened. It nodded vigorously, the little flame wobbling with the motion.
"Lit! Lit!"
Leo looked at the starving creature, then at his door.
"Okay," Leo said, holding up a hand. "Stay there. Don't move. Don't eat my soul. I'll be right back."
He grabbed his wallet from the desk.
"I mean it," he warned, pointing a finger at the ghost. "No snacking on the neighbors either."
He sprinted out of the apartment.
The Litwick watched him go, tilting its head to the side. Its green eyes were filled with confusion.
The human left?But he said... food?Food is good. So hungry.But I can't eat him. He looked so tired already. If I ate his energy, he might not wake up.I'll wait. Humans are confusing.
Ten minutes later, Leo burst back into the room, chest heaving.
He was holding a small, black can with a purple label.
[Spectral Blend: Premium Ghost Food][Rich in spiritual essence. 100% Organic.]
It had cost him three hundred dollars at the all-night convenience store downstairs. Three hundred dollars! Yesterday, that amount of money would have fed Leo for a month. Today, it was one meal for a stray ghost.
"I must be insane," Leo muttered to himself as he popped the tab on the can. A strange, cold scent wafted out—like ozone and old books.
He placed the can on the floor in front of the Litwick.
"Here," Leo said gently. "Sorry for the wait. Eat up."
The Litwick floated down, sniffing the can cautiously. Then, its eyes lit up like high beams.
"Lit!!"
It dove in.
It didn't eat like a polite houseguest. It ate like a vacuum cleaner. Slurp, gulp, chomp.
Leo watched in fascination and a little bit of horror. The food vanished at a rate that defied physics.
As the Litwick ate, the transformation was instantaneous. The dull wax skin began to gleam with a pearlescent sheen. And the flame—the tiny, sputtering blue spark—roared to life. It grew three times in size, burning with a steady, vibrant intensity that cast long, dancing shadows against the walls.
"Wow," Leo breathed. "That's... better."
The Litwick finished the last scrap, licked the can clean, and spun around in the air, letting out a happy cheer.
"Lit-wick! Lit-wick!"
It looked at Leo, its green eyes crinkling in a smile that was pure, unadulterated joy. It floated closer, nuzzling the air near Leo's face.
Leo smiled back, a genuine warmth spreading in his chest. "You're welcome, buddy."
He felt a massive weight lift off his shoulders. He hadn't just saved a Pokémon; he'd proven something to himself. He could survive here. He could interact with this world.
But there was still a barrier.
"Lit-wick, mobu lit?" the creature asked, tilting its head.
Leo scratched the back of his neck. "I really wish I knew what you were saying."
In the anime and games, Trainers seemed to understand their Pokémon through the "power of friendship" or context clues. But standing here, facing a floating candle speaking gibberish, Leo felt the disconnect.
Just then, the golden text of the System shimmered into existence, hovering over the Litwick's head.
[System Notice: Communication Barrier Detected.][The Host desires to understand the target.]
[Recommendation: Universal Pokémon Translation Module (Basic)][Effect: Translates Pokémon vocalizations into human language in real-time. Also allows for realistic vocal synthesis in game development.][Cost: 100 Emotion Points (EP)]
Leo's eyes widened.
The System wasn't just for coding games? It could upgrade him?
He checked his balance. He had over 700 EP from the sales and the livestream boost.
100 points was a steal. Not only would it let him talk to Litwick, but the "vocal synthesis" part would be huge for Ultimate Emerald. Imagine NPCs that actually spoke, or Pokémon cries that sounded real, not just 8-bit screeches.
"Buy it," Leo commanded mentally.
[Purchase Complete. Installing Module...][Installation Complete.]
A strange sensation washed over Leo's brain, like a radio dial suddenly tuning into a clear frequency. The static in his head cleared.
He looked at the Litwick.
"Are you full?" Leo asked.
The Litwick bobbed up and down. "Lit! Mobu!"
The sounds hit Leo's ears as chirps, but his brain instantly decoded them into words.
[I'm full! Thank you, Human! You are the best!]
Leo grinned. It worked. It actually worked.
"You're welcome," Leo said. Then he paused, his expression turning serious. "Hey, Litwick. I have a question. How long have you been in my room?"
The Litwick stopped spinning. It hovered closer, looking sheepish.
"Lit... wick... mobu."
[A long time! I came in through the window. It was warm here. And...] The Litwick fiddled with its tiny hands. [And you smelled really good. Like a buffet. I waited for you to fall asleep so I could take a little bite.]
Leo felt a chill crawl down his spine. Hearing a cute creature casually discuss eating his soul was a unique kind of horror.
"Right," Leo said, keeping his voice steady. "So... why didn't you?"
The Litwick floated closer, its blue flame casting a warm glow on Leo's face.
"Lit-wick... mobu... lit."
[Because... you looked tired. Your soul flame was flickering, just like mine. If I ate it, you would feel yucky. You might get sick.]
The ghost looked up at him with big, watery eyes.
[I didn't want the nice human to be sick. So I waited. I thought maybe if you woke up, you'd feel better.]
Leo stared.
He was stunned.
This creature—a biological weapon designed to consume life force—had starved itself because it was worried about him? It saw him exhausted from crunching code and decided to go hungry rather than hurt him.
Leo felt a lump form in his throat.
This was it. The "SSR Pull" of a lifetime.
Forget the stats. Forget the shiny coloring. This little guy had a heart of gold.
"You..." Leo knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the ghost. "You're a good kid, Litwick."
He extended his hand.
"How about this? You don't need to hunt for food anymore. Stay with me. I'll buy you all the premium canned food you can eat. You never have to go hungry, and you never have to eat anyone's soul unless they're a bad guy. Deal?"
The Litwick's mouth dropped open in a perfect 'O'.
[Really?] it chirped. [You want me? Even though I'm spooky?]
"Especially because you're spooky," Leo laughed. "I could use a partner."
The Litwick let out a squeal of pure delight.
[Human! Thank you!]
It launched itself at Leo, aiming for a hug.
"Come here, bud—"
Leo opened his arms. The Litwick slammed into his chest.
It was soft. Squishy. Surprisingly solid, like a bag of warm gelatin.
It was nice. It was heartwarming.
It was also extremely hot.
Leo froze. He looked down.
The blue flame on Litwick's head was pressed directly against his vintage cotton t-shirt.
Smoke curled up. Then, a bright orange flame erupted on the fabric.
"..."
"..."
[Uh oh,] Litwick said.
"FIRE!" Leo screamed. "I'M ON FIRE! AHHHHH!"
Five Minutes Later.
The chaos had subsided.
Leo stood in the middle of the room, shirtless, dumping a pile of ash into the trash can.
"Note to self," he muttered, coughing slightly. "Buy fireproof vest. Or asbestos hoodies."
He glanced at the corner of the room.
Litwick was asleep. It was leaning against the wall, its flame dimmed down to the size of a pilot light. It looked peaceful. Content.
Leo smiled, shaking his head. He couldn't even be mad. He grabbed a fresh shirt from his drawer—a faded flannel—and threw it on.
He sat back down at his computer desk. The screen was still glowing.
He checked the dashboard for Pokémon: Emerald.
[Current Sales: 2,125 Units][Total Revenue (Net): $95,625.00]
Leo stared at the number.
The sales had plateaued for now—the initial rush from Cynthia's stream had faded—but the number was staggering.
Ninety-five thousand dollars.
Yesterday, he was worried about a $500 rent payment. Today, he had enough money to buy the entire apartment building if he wanted to.
The financial pressure that had been crushing his chest for a week vanished, replaced by a sense of limitless possibility.
But as he looked at the money, and then back at the sleeping Litwick, Leo realized something important.
When he first got the System, his only thought was survival. Make a game, make a buck, don't starve.
But now?
He thought about the players. He thought about the 2,000 people playing his game right now.
In this world, being a Trainer was a privilege. It was expensive. It was dangerous. Most people worked 9-to-5 jobs, drove sedans, and maybe owned a goldfish. They watched the League championships on TV and dreamed of what it would be like to stand in a stadium with a Charizard.
They lost that spark. They let their dreams die under the weight of bills and responsibilities.
Leo clenched his fist.
"I don't just want to make money," he whispered to the empty room.
He wanted to give those people a world where they could be Champions. He wanted to reignite that fire. He wanted to make games that didn't just entertain, but immersed. Games that made you feel the rain on Route 104, the heat of a Charizard's flamethrower, the bond with a starter Pokémon.
He wanted to turn those dying sparks into a roaring blaze.
"Pain and pleasure," Leo grinned, his gamer spirit flaring up. "I'm going to make them love it, and I'm going to make them suffer for it."
He opened the System Store again.
He had cash. He had points. It was time to reinvest.
He scrolled through the modules. [Card Game Engine]? No. [Roguelike Generator]? Not yet. [4K Graphics Suite]? Tempting, but graphics aren't everything.
His eyes landed on a module in the Intermediate tier. It was expensive. It cost 500 EP—almost his entire remaining stash.
[Advanced AI Logic Core (Low-Grade)]Description: Imbues game entities (NPCs, Pokémon) with autonomous, reactive intelligence. Entities will respond to player input, remember interactions, and develop unique personality traits based on data.
Leo didn't hesitate.
What makes a world feel real? It's not the resolution of the textures. It's the people.
If he wanted Ultimate Emerald to be a revolution, the NPCs couldn't be cardboard cutouts saying "I like shorts! They're comfy and easy to wear!"
They needed to be alive.
"System," Leo commanded. "Unlock the AI Module."
[Confirming purchase... 500 EP deducted.][Module Unlocked.]
Leo cracked his knuckles, pulling up the code for Ultimate Emerald.
"Alright, Litwick," he whispered to the sleeping ghost. "Let's wake this world up."
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