The last thing Marcus Chen remembered was reaching for the limited edition Pikachu-themed Pop-Tart that had fallen behind his gaming setup.
The doctors would later theorize that the combination of seventeen empty energy drink cans, a precariously balanced CRT monitor he kept "for authenticity," and the electrical cord he'd somehow wrapped around his neck while diving for the pastry had created what they called "the most embarrassing death we've seen this fiscal quarter."
Marcus, however, knew none of this.
What Marcus knew was that he was currently floating in an endless white void, and a very tired-looking llama-god was staring at him with what could only be described as cosmic exhaustion.
"So," Arceus said, his golden wheel spinning lazily. "You're the one."
"HOLY SH—"
"Please don't."
Marcus's scream died in his throat. Which was weird, because he was pretty sure he didn't have a throat anymore. Or a body. He looked down. Nope. Just sort of... vibes.
"I'm dead," Marcus said.
"Astute."
"You're Arceus."
"Unfortunately."
"I have SO many questions about game balance—"
"I'm going to stop you there." The God of All Pokemon raised one elegantly cloven hoof. "We have a problem. Well. I have a problem. You are the problem."
Marcus would have blinked if he had eyelids. "I... what?"
Arceus sighed, and somehow the entire void sighed with him. A screen materialized in the air between them—it looked suspiciously like a Nintendo Switch display, if a Nintendo Switch had been designed by beings of incomprehensible cosmic power and also had a crack in the corner.
"Do you see this number?" Arceus asked.
Marcus squinted at the screen. There was a counter on it. The number read: 4,847
"Yeah?"
"That's how many Pokemon are currently registered to your soul."
Silence.
"I'm sorry," Marcus said slowly, "I think the afterlife has bad WiFi because I could've sworn you just said—"
"Four thousand, eight hundred, and forty-seven Pokemon. Registered. To your soul." Arceus's eye twitched. "Do you have ANY idea how that happened?"
Marcus's non-existent brain started doing math. Let's see... he'd started with Red back in '98... then Yellow, Gold, Silver, Crystal, Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, FireRed, LeafGreen, Diamond, Pearl, Platinum, HeartGold, SoulSilver, Black, White, Black 2, White 2, X, Y, Omega Ruby, Alpha Sapphire, Sun, Moon, Ultra Sun, Ultra Moon, Let's Go Pikachu, Let's Go Eevee, Sword, Shield, Brilliant Diamond, Shining Pearl, Legends Arceus, Scarlet, Violet...
"I completed the Pokedex in every game," Marcus whispered, the horrible realization dawning.
"You completed the Pokedex. In EVERY. GAME." Arceus repeated. "Including the spin-offs. Including Pokemon GO. Including—and I cannot stress how much I wish this weren't true—Pokemon Ranger, where you apparently captured the same Manaphy four separate times for 'optimal egg moves.'"
"I was going through a phase—"
"You have TWELVE ARCEUS registered to you."
"Some of those were event distributions!"
"I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE. I'M THE ONLY ONE. WHERE DID THE OTHER ELEVEN COME FROM?!"
Marcus opened his mouth to explain the concept of promotional events and also that one time he'd driven four hours to a GameStop in Nevada, but Arceus was already pacing. Which was impressive, given that there was no floor.
"This is unprecedented," the llama-god muttered. "Absolutely unprecedented. The system was designed for, at MOST, a few dozen souls registrations per human. A pet here, a childhood imaginary friend there, maybe a really beloved houseplant. But you—YOU—"
"To be fair, I also have a lot of shinies—"
"I'M AWARE OF THE SHINIES."
Another screen popped up. This one just said: SHINY COUNT: 892
"The Masuda Method works," Marcus said weakly.
Arceus looked like he was reconsidering the whole "benevolent creator deity" thing. "Do you know what happens when a soul with this many registered Pokemon tries to reincarnate normally?"
"...No?"
"Neither do I! It's never happened before! Giratina ran the simulations and the best-case scenario was 'localized reality collapse!' The worst case involved something called a 'MissingNo cascade' that Giratina refused to elaborate on!"
Marcus felt a chill run through his non-corporeal essence. He remembered MissingNo. He'd caught MissingNo. Oh god, he'd caught MissingNo for the infinite Rare Candy glitch.
"Please tell me you didn't—"
"I WAS TEN."
Arceus sat down heavily on nothing. "So here's what's going to happen. Because of certain... cosmic bureaucracy... I can't just delete the registrations. Something about 'the bonds formed between trainer and Pokemon transcending mortality' and 'Giratina won't stop laughing long enough to help.'"
"Okay..."
"So you're being reincarnated. Into a world where Pokemon exist."
Marcus's soul literally brightened. "WAIT REALLY?! THAT'S MY DREAM! I've read like two hundred isekai fanfics about this exact—"
"WITH ALL OF THEM."
The brightness dimmed. "All... all of the Pokemon?"
"All four thousand, eight hundred, and forty-seven of them. Including—" Arceus consulted the screen with visible pain, "—six complete sets of legendaries, a Bidoof you apparently named 'God Jr.,' seventeen Pikachus you never evolved 'because it felt wrong,' what appears to be an entire box of Magikarp that you were breeding for a 'perfect IV shiny' that you never obtained—"
"I was SO close—"
"—and a Shuckle. Just... just one Shuckle. Named 'Kenneth.'"
"Kenneth was my emotional support Pokemon."
"SHUCKLE DON'T HAVE EMOTIONS. THEY BARELY HAVE THOUGHTS."
"You don't know Kenneth like I do."
Arceus stared at him for a long moment. Then the God of All Pokemon did something Marcus never expected.
He laughed.
It started as a snort, then grew into a full cosmic cackle that echoed through the infinite void and probably confused several lesser deities.
"You know what? Fine. FINE." Arceus waved a hoof, and suddenly Marcus had a body again—a human body, small, maybe seven or eight years old, wearing what appeared to be pajamas with Pokeballs on them. "You want to live in the Pokemon world? You've got it. You want ALL your Pokemon? HAVE THEM."
"Wait, I'm not sure I thought this through—"
"You'll start in Pallet Town, like the 'protagonist' you clearly believe yourself to be. Professor Oak will be there. Your 'rival' will be there. It'll be very nostalgic."
"That actually sounds amazing—"
"And at precisely 10 AM on your tenth birthday, when you walk into that laboratory expecting to choose between Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle like a NORMAL child—"
Marcus felt a growing sense of dread.
"—every single Pokemon registered to your soul will materialize simultaneously."
"You CAN'T—"
"I CAN AND I WILL. Consider it..." Arceus grinned, and Marcus realized that the God of All Pokemon had the same energy as a Gengar who'd just learned a new prank. "...a lesson in moderation."
The void began to dissolve around Marcus. Colors swirled. He could feel himself being pulled somewhere—somewhen—
"WAIT! How am I supposed to feed them all?! Where will they LIVE?! I have like FORTY LEGENDARY POKEMON, do you know what Groudon does to local WEATHER PATTERNS—"
Arceus's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere:
"Should've thought about that before you caught 'em all. SEVERAL TIMES."
Marcus Chen was reborn on a sunny day in Pallet Town to Mr. and Mrs. Chen, a lovely couple who ran a small Pokemon-themed merchandise shop and had absolutely no idea that their newborn son had just been cosmically trolled by God.
He spent the first two years of his new life in a state of constant low-level panic, which his parents attributed to colic but was actually existential dread.
By age five, he had confirmed that this was, indeed, a fusion of the anime and game universes. He'd seen Ash Ketchum running around town, exactly his age, already befriending every Pokemon he encountered with the casual ease of a protagonist who had no idea what was coming.
By age seven, Marcus had developed a comprehensive plan. He would simply... not go to Professor Oak's lab on his tenth birthday. He'd fake sick. He'd leave town. He'd dig a hole and live in it if necessary.
By age nine, he'd realized that Arceus had almost certainly thought of that, and the Pokemon were probably going to materialize regardless of where he was standing.
On the night before his tenth birthday, Marcus Chen lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom (which was decorated with Charizard posters and contained absolutely no hint of the cosmic disaster brewing), and contemplated his life choices.
"I could have been a casual player," he whispered to himself. "I could have just... caught a few favorites. Beat the Elite Four. Called it a day."
But no. He had to be a completionist. He had to catch every single Pokemon in every single game. He had to breed for perfect IVs and shiny hunt for hundreds of hours and collect every legendary like they were Beanie Babies.
And now, in approximately twelve hours, he was going to find out exactly what happened when 4,847 Pokemon manifested in a small research laboratory in a sleepy town of maybe 200 people.
From somewhere in the distance, he heard a Hoothoot call.
It sounded like it was laughing at him.
TOMORROW: Professor Oak's lab. 10 AM. All hell breaks loose.
Current Pokemon Count: 4,847
Current Legendary Count: 40+
Current Shiny Count: 892
Current Emotional Preparedness: 0
[A/N: This is going to be a LONG ride folks. Next chapter: The Materialization. Featuring: property damage, one very confused Professor Oak, traumatized wildlife, and the debut of Kenneth the Shuckle. Don't forget to leave a review and tell me your favorite Pokemon!]