The jungle was a sea of mediocrity.
Enzo crouched behind a fern, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. For the last hour, the System had been feeding him flashes of information—one wild Pokémon after another—and none of it was what he needed.
A Rattata darted between roots. Red.
A Caterpie clung to a leaf. Red.
A Pidgey fluttered down from a branch. Orange.
"Garbage," Enzo murmured. "It's all garbage."
He checked the timer in the corner of his vision.
[ TIME REMAINING: 70 HOURS ]
He needed to move deeper inland—past the easy spawns, past the paths recruits used, past the places Team Rocket deliberately turned into a beginner's trap.
He stood, adjusted the straps of his backpack, and stepped onto the dirt path.
A twig snapped behind him.
Not a natural snap.
A footstep.
Enzo stopped.
He didn't spin around like prey. He didn't reach for his knife either. He just turned his head slowly, as if he was already bored of what he was about to see.
Three boys stepped out from the bushes.
Same grey recruit uniforms.
Too clean.
They hadn't been surviving. They'd been hunting.
The leader—a tall kid with a nasty scar on his chin— tossed a Poké Ball up and down in his palm like he owned the island.
"Nice backpack," he said, smiling. "Let me take a look."
Enzo's eyes flicked to the Poké Balls in their hands.
The System stayed silent.
Of course it did. It only spoke when there was contact—skin on metal, hand on ball, palm on Pokémon. No touch, no data.
The leader's smile widened, like he could smell uncertainty.
"Get him."
Poké Balls hit the ground in quick succession, buttons snapping open.
White light flared.
A Zubat screamed into the air, wings slicing the humidity.
A Geodude slammed into the dirt with a heavy thud.
An Ekans spilled out last, coiling low, tongue flicking.
Enzo didn't need numbers to understand the situation.
Three against one.
Good.
Enzo kept his face flat.
"Turn around," he said. "Walk away, and you keep your Pokémon."
The fat kid snorted.
"Did you hear him? He thinks he's the Boss."
The leader's grin sharpened.
"Get him."
Poké Balls hit the ground in quick succession, buttons snapping open.
White light flared.
A Zubat screamed into the air, wings slicing the humidity.
A Geodude slammed into the dirt with a heavy thud, fists already clenched.
An Ekans spilled out last, coiling low, tongue flicking as it tasted the tension.
Three Pokémon.
Three threats.
In a fair fight, Enzo would have lost.
But Enzo hadn't fought fair in fifteen years.
Koffing floated at his side, bobbing too close, drooling, vibrating like a live grenade that loved the sound of danger.
The tether in Enzo's chest tightened—thin, ugly, alive.
Enzo didn't back away.
They hesitated for half a heartbeat—confusion, not fear.
That was all he needed.
Enzo grabbed Koffing with both hands and threw it.
Not at the Pokemons but at the boys.
Koffing hit the ground, bounced once, and floated upright again, grinning like it was proud of itself.
Zubat's dive angled immediately toward it.
Geodude changed direction to smash it.
Ekans whipped its head around, locking on as if the stupid purple thing had just insulted it.
The three Pokémon converged—fast, reflexive, hungry for an easy hit.
The recruits didn't understand in time.
The leader opened his mouth, probably to laugh.
Enzo met his eyes across the clearing.
"I gave you a chance," Enzo said softly.
Then he said.
"Koffing."
The grin widened.
"Do it."
It was like cutting a brake line.
Koffing's eyes rolled back.
Its body swelled.
Not like a move.
Like a pressure chamber reaching its limit.
"KOFFIIIIIIING!"
For a fraction of a second, the jungle inhaled.
Then—
BOOM.
The blast didn't feel like an attack.
It felt like a mistake the world couldn't take back.
White force expanded outward in a sphere, swallowing Zubat mid-dive, crushing Geodude's charge into dust, flinging Ekans like a snapped rope.
The shockwave hit the boys an instant later.
Two of them were too close.
Too exposed.
Too confident.
Enzo threw himself behind a thick root as dirt and shredded leaves turned into a storm. Bark cracked. Stones skipped. The clearing became noise and light and violence.
Then the sound died.
Silence poured in—heavy, ringing, wrong.
Enzo stood slowly, dusting ash off his uniform. His ears screamed with a high, constant whine.
Where the path had been, there was now a scorched crater.
Zubat lay near the edge, charred and unmoving.
Geodude was half-buried in dirt, cracked and still.
Ekans was sprawled in a blackened curve, not even twitching.
All three fainted.
The two closest recruits…
Enzo didn't need a health bar to know.
They were down in unnatural angles, uniforms smoking lightly, bodies not moving at all.
Dead.
At the far edge of the clearing, the third boy—the skinny one—was still standing.
Barely.
He looked like his bones had forgotten how to hold him up.
His eyes were huge.
Fixed on Enzo like he was looking at a nightmare that had learned to walk.
"M-monster…" he stammered. "You… you killed them…"
Enzo tilted his head, expression empty.
"They tried to rob me," he said. "Now they're dead."
He took one step toward the boy.
The kid made a strangled sound, dropped his Poké Ball in panic, and turned and ran—crashing through brush, disappearing into green like the jungle had swallowed him whole.
Enzo watched him go.
Let him run.
Let him talk.
Fear spread faster than any rumor.
He walked to the crater.
Koffing lay in the center like a burnt toy—blackened, deflated, vents smoking, barely breathing.
Not floating.
Not grinning.
Enzo's jaw tightened.
Then he moved.
Not toward Koffing first.
Toward the rewards lying around him.
Enzo walked to the bodies and knelt.
A single Poké Ball was clipped to each uniform—scorched, but still there. He took them without hesitation.
A few steps away, another ball lay in the dirt where the runner had dropped it.
He picked that one up, too.
Then he pressed the buttons.
Red beams snapped out—one after another—and the fainted Pokémon dissolved into light.
Zubat returned.
Geodude returned.
Ekans returned.
Three balls. Three assets. Sealed and silent.
Only then did Enzo tighten his grip—contact—and the System flickered to life.
Zubat. Level 6. Potential: ORANGE.
Geodude. Level 5. Potential: RED.
Ekans. Level 4. Potential: RED.
Trash.
Not worth raising.
But worth selling.
Only after the captures were secured did Enzo kneel beside Koffing.
A System window popped up, flickering with red warnings.
[ SUBJECT STATUS: KOFFING ]
HP: 0/24 (Fainted)
Condition: Comatose
Structural Integrity: Compromised
Recovery Time: 48 Hours
[ STATS UPDATED ]
Level: 5 ➝ 9
New Move Learned: Smog
Enzo nodded once.
"Four levels."
Then his eyes dropped lower.
[ VIRUS UPDATE ]
Explosion strain destabilized genetic rewiring.
Potential: DEEP RED ➝ RED
"Damn it," Enzo hissed.
So the bomb paid EXP.
And it paid back in potential.
He recalled Koffing carefully, the ball warm in his palm like it was holding an injured animal and a live explosive at the same time.
Then he looked at the three captured balls in his pouch and focused.
Rocket Points didn't care about quality as long as something had a pulse and a price.
Enzo stood and glanced once at the corpses.
No guilt.
No pause.
Only calculation.
He had seventy hours left to find a Green potential Pokemon.
He had a knife, two Great Balls, and three "trash" Pokémon to sell later.