At Mt. Silver, a teenage boy slowly made his way deeper into the mountain's core.
Walking beside him was a beast-like Pokémon with alternating bands of blue and gold—Typhlosion. Heat radiated steadily from its back, wisps of smoke curling into the air, quietly providing warmth for its Trainer.
Unlike the dense forests and rocky terrain at the foot of the mountain, the deepest part of Mt. Silver was a vast, snow-white clearing, strangely bright and pristine. This was a colossal snow-capped peak, and at this very moment, large snowflakes were falling endlessly from the sky.
Step by step, the boy finally reached his destination.
The summit of Mt. Silver.
There, a man wearing a red cap sat with his back turned. His clothing was simple, his figure resembling that of a solitary ascetic. He sat silently atop a raised stone platform, as still as the mountain itself.
This man was Red.
After becoming the Champion of the Johto League, Gold had obtained certain classified information. According to legend, there existed someone whose strength far surpassed even that of a League Champion—an existence that had long secluded himself in harsh training atop Mt. Silver.
Gold had heard countless stories about this man after leaving Johto and traveling through Kanto: conquering all eight Gyms, crushing Team Rocket, defeating the League Champion… a true legend.
"Hey! Fight me!" Gold shouted, raising a Poké Ball high into the air.
Typhlosion straightened instantly. Its claws tightened, its body lowered, and a blazing inferno erupted from its back—far more intense than anything seen before.
The mysterious man said nothing.
He slowly turned around, his expression calm and detached, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion. Ever since Green had revealed his whereabouts, countless so-called Trainers—small fry seeking fame—had come to challenge him. And yet, not a single one had managed to force him to send out a second Pokémon.
Perhaps it was the loneliness of the snowy peak. Or perhaps his strength had long surpassed that of ordinary humans.
It was cold at the top.
As he grew stronger, he had also grown more… withdrawn.
Yet today, something about this boy caused a subtle change in his gaze. It felt like a battle ordained by fate.
"Come."
It was the first word he had spoken in years. His voice was flat, cold, almost mechanical. As the word left his mouth, he threw a Poké Ball.
A flash of red light burst forth, and a small electric mouse appeared atop the snow.
Pokédex: Beep—Pikachu. A common Pokémon. Nothing particularly rare.
"Then try this one!" Gold shouted, throwing his own Poké Ball.
In the next instant, a massive shadow descended upon the snowy summit. The falling snowflakes froze midair, as if time itself had stopped.
A crushing pressure swept across the battlefield.
Silver skin. A sleek, elongated body. Neither beast nor bird, with wings stretching wide like giant hands.
The Guardian of the Sea—Lugia.
"…"
Red's eyes lit up.
Pikachu licked the corner of its mouth. Golden lightning crackled violently from its cheeks.
The battle was on the brink of explosion.
"So this is how Trainers fight nowadays?" Red muttered. "Just throwing out legendaries left and right?"
Neither combatant noticed the faint, translucent figure levitating high above the battlefield.
That figure watched calmly, his expression eerily similar to the man below.
Like a soul. Like an existence detached from the world itself.
His name was also Red.
Just hours ago, Red had been tempering his will amid the endless ice and snow. Then, without warning, he had reached enlightenment.
He realized the truth.
He was nothing more than a character inside a game.
Yes—he remembered receiving his starter Pokémon from Professor Oak. His first Gym battle. His first duel with Green. Battles against Team Rocket. Against the Elite Four. He even remembered traveling through the Alola region with Blue and Green.
And yet, when it came to the smallest details, his memory was blank.
Only then did Red understand.
This world was nothing but a fabricated digital reality. Everything followed a predetermined script. No matter how close to invincible he became, he was still nothing more than a puppet.
And when he realized this…
He transcended.
His soul separated from his body.
At this very moment, his "puppet body" was acting as the final boss of this world—battling the protagonist of another era.
Freed from all shackles, Red found himself wishing he had a bucket of popcorn.
Below, the battle raged on.
Pikachu clashed with Lugia. Golden lightning detonated through the air, splitting a massive chunk of Mt. Silver's peak and forcing a stalemate.
Snorlax versus a bizarre crimson Gyarados.
Venusaur versus Entei.
Lapras versus Suicune.
Charizard versus Ho-Oh.
Watching from above, Red felt his scalp tingle.
"Players these days really love legendaries, huh? Shallow. Training ordinary Pokémon to their absolute peak—that's what makes a real Trainer."
At last, Gold's trump card entered the battlefield—Typhlosion.
The flames on its back roared skyward like a volcanic eruption, causing the temperature across Mt. Silver to skyrocket.
"Go—Mewtwo."
The puppet Red released his final Pokémon.
BOOM—!!!
After a long, brutal battle, Gold barely managed to claim victory.
Below, the puppet Red smiled faintly. A laugh escaped him—one filled with relief. He turned his back and fell into an unnatural silence.
Suddenly, a blinding white light engulfed the summit of Mt. Silver.
When the light faded, the puppet Red had vanished completely.
This had been the ultimate battle.
And the curtain call.
Red had completed every task assigned to him in this world. Naturally, he disappeared.
High above, the true Red knew—had he not awakened, he would have vanished as well.
"So… where do I go now?" Red murmured, a hint of confusion in his voice.
At that moment, a vortex appeared, pulling violently at his soul. Colors drained from the world, fading into black and white.
He was dragged inside.
And consciousness slipped away.
When Red opened his eyes again, brilliant light flooded his vision.
He was in a vast forest.
It felt familiar—yet different.
Alive.
Vitality surged through the air.
"This… is a real world," Red realized instantly.
"Did I transmigrate?"
He looked down at himself—still in soul form, capable of levitating.
"Chii—chii—kii!!!"
A frenzied screech echoed through the forest. A dark swarm of Spearow burst from the trees, fleeing in one direction.
Curious, Red followed.
Rain began to pour from the sky.
At a towering cliffside, Red spotted a boy in the distance, pedaling his bicycle like mad. In the front basket lay a battered electric mouse Pokémon, barely clinging to life—like a candle flickering in the wind.
"A rookie Trainer pissed off a flock of Spearow… Pokémon's almost dead," Red guessed grimly.
He wanted to help.
But he couldn't.
Crack!
The muddy slope caused the boy to lose control. Both rider and bike crashed violently. Pikachu was flung several meters away, landing on the slick stones.
The Spearow closed in.
The boy—his face still youthful—shook as he stood up, spreading his arms protectively in front of Pikachu.
"Hey! Do you know who I am?!" he screamed. "I'm the future Pokémon Master!"
Then, lowering his voice, he whispered:
"Pikachu… get into the Poké Ball while you can…"
His bravado was fake. The fear was real.
The Spearow didn't understand human words.
They dove.
"Pika…"
What happened next stunned Red.
The Pikachu lying in the mud suddenly erupted with power. Trembling, it forced itself up and sprinted forward—leaping off the boy's shoulder and soaring toward the swarm.
"CHUUUUU—!!!"
Terrifying electricity exploded from its cheeks.
From the distant heavens, a massive Bolt Strike descended.
Borrowing the power of nature itself, Pikachu's lightning detonated in a blinding eruption, obliterating the Spearow and tearing apart the storm clouds above.
The lightning blinded Red.
And from the epicenter of that Bolt Strike came an overwhelming force—one that seized his soul and dragged him toward it.