The late summer in Riverhaven was still quite comfortable. Feeling the refreshing morning breeze, Ethan strolled leisurely along the cobblestone streets of the old town.
In the lush roadside thickets, a flock of hungry Pidgey chirped noisily, their beaks open, awaiting their mother's feeding.
The unlucky victim, destined to become food, was a plump Caterpie.
A Pidgeotto ruthlessly sliced the Caterpie into segments with its sharp beak, distributing the portions evenly among its young.
This vivid scene perfectly illustrated the adage, "The early bird catches the worm."
Ethan was already used to such sights. He glanced at it briefly and then turned his attention elsewhere.
If he had to compare, Ethan believed his current situation wasn't much better than that of the unfortunate Caterpie.
Perhaps it was even worse than the Pidgey chicks—they, at least, still had a mother, didn't they?
As someone who had transmigrated to this world over half a year ago, Ethan felt his luck was atrocious.
Forget about the "golden finger" cheats that all the protagonists in Webnovel stories seemed to have—he hadn't even caught a glimpse of one. To top it off, his parents in this life had mysteriously disappeared.
All they left him was a rundown old house in the Riverhaven historical district and a modest sum of compensation money arranged by the authorities.
Ethan figured that if he were the protagonist of a novel, it would definitely be one of those "tragic start with deep grievances" stories that were popular on Webnovel a decade ago.
The only two consolations in his life were: first, his current body was the same as it had been in his previous world—simple and unadorned.
One word could summarize his ordinary appearance: "handsome."
Second, the world he had transmigrated to was incredible.
...
To put it simply, it was a technologically advanced world where the lore of Pokémon anime and manga intertwined.
Though not as innocent and whimsical as the anime, it wasn't as harsh as the manga either.
All in all, it could barely be called an ideal utopia.
And why? Well, anyone with a bit of critical thinking could figure it out.
With the black-tech marvels of the Pokémon world, combined with an abundance of resources and a society with relatively simple values, this world was destined to be a paradise.
Most crucially, it was a world blessed with Pokémon—beings that defied the laws of conservation of mass-energy, entropy, and thermodynamics!
No need to even mention legendary Pokémon like Regieleki, said to generate enough electricity to power the entire Galar region.
Even a "common as stray dogs" Pikachu could generate significant amounts of electricity.
Fire-types provided heat energy, Ice-types managed cold storage, and Grass-types contributed biomass energy.
With such near-infinite energy resources, survival problems were non-existent.
But according to the hierarchy of needs from his previous life, survival was just the foundation—above it lay countless layers of aspirations, including the highest level: self-actualization.
Unlike other transmigrators who dreamed of becoming legendary trainers, Ethan didn't have such lofty ambitions.
But as a diehard Pokémon fan, living in this world, of course, he wanted to leave his mark.
So after adapting to his new environment, Ethan set a modest goal upon noticing a few developmental gaps in this world:
To become a laid-back Gym Leader. If he had the ability, maybe even an Elite Four. Then, he could raise a bunch of his favorite Pokémon and spend the rest of his life with them.
...
Clearly, even in this utopian Pokémon world, this pursuit wasn't simple.
Becoming a Gym Leader wasn't easy—Valoria, a region roughly the size of his former country's eastern expanse, had only a dozen first-tier Gyms.
And as for the Elite Four, well, there were only four spots per generation.
Although this world guaranteed no one would starve, becoming an elite trainer was incredibly expensive.
The first hurdle was obtaining a quality Pokémon egg, which started at tens of thousands.
Sure, you could catch a Caterpie on the roadside and train it, but no one could guarantee how far you'd get as a trainer with it.
And Pokémon eggs were just the beginning. Raising a Pokémon through its juvenile, growth, and mature stages cost a fortune.
Raising a Pokémon was more expensive than raising a child—that was the hard truth of this world.
However, people could achieve anything with effort. Ethan, a soon-to-be high school senior with virtually nothing to his name, was striving toward his dream.
Calling himself penniless was a bit of an exaggeration. At least Ethan had complete knowledge of Pokémon up until the Sun and Moon era from his previous life.
Some of this knowledge was yet undiscovered in this world.
This was his sole advantage for climbing the ranks in the Pokémon world.
To ensure he wouldn't forget, he wrote down everything in a small notebook, waiting for the day he'd earn enough to launch his plans.
Yes, whether as a trainer, breeder, or researcher, every Pokémon-related career required money.
Even though Ethan knew the direction of his research and its final goal, it was no exception.
For instance, the least costly project he could think of—and the one he planned to use as his entry point into the Pokémon academic community—was studying Sylveon's evolution.
At the very least, he needed an Eevee, right?
Luckily, after saving money for a year, Ethan was about to afford his first Eevee. All he needed was next month's paycheck.
...
As a high schooler, Ethan certainly wouldn't waste time with low-efficiency, physically demanding jobs like waiting tables.
Currently, he was a small but growing culinary content creator on Pilipili.
Though the Valoria region was essentially a reimagined version of his former country, there were some significant differences, such as in cuisine.
As a food enthusiast in his previous life, Ethan's understanding of and passion for food were second only to his love for Pokémon.
In just over half a year, despite not being prolific, Ethan had become quite famous in the culinary niche. This month, thanks to summer break giving him more time to create videos, his subscriber count had exploded.
Naturally, this month's income would be something to look forward to.
More income meant more motivation, and so, on this Saturday morning when most people were still sleeping in, Ethan was already walking to the market.
Morning ingredients were the freshest, and dishes made with them looked more appealing.
Cooking was about color, aroma, and taste. Since his audience couldn't smell or taste through the screen, a visually appealing dish was essential to draw them in—or, rather, to convince them to toss him a couple of shiny coins.
For this week's video, he still hadn't decided what to make. The theme was Lu Cuisine, renowned in his previous world as the pinnacle of the Eight Great Cuisines.
Lu Cuisine emphasized quality ingredients, used salt to enhance flavor, and relied on broths to enrich taste. Its salty yet fresh flavors appealed to the masses, making it a natural crowd-pleaser.
Perhaps braised sea cucumber with scallions, its signature dish?
But would it taste better with the green onions from a Farfetch'd? Nope, stop right there—that's illegal.
As Ethan mused over his plans, a soft, weak cry reached his ears.
"Vee..."
That was an Eevee's voice!
Startled, Ethan looked toward the sound and saw a fluffy but filthy fox-like creature huddled in the corner of an alley, trembling.
It was an adorable yet pitiful Eevee.
The Eevee's body was curled up, shivering uncontrollably—whether from cold or some other reason. Its signature sparkling eyes were tightly shut, and its creamy white neck and tail fur were stained a grimy black.
Why was there an injured Eevee here?
Too many possibilities flashed through Ethan's mind, but he didn't dwell on them.
He hurried over without hesitation.
No matter what, Ethan couldn't ignore a helpless and innocent Eevee lying injured by the roadside.
(To be continued...)