The setting sun painted the sky with hues of amber and crimson as time flew by amidst the repetitive cycle of training and recovery.
An entire afternoon had passed, and Eevee finally completed the full set of balance and evasion exercises Ethan had meticulously designed.
The lengthy duration wasn't due to any lack of empathy on Ethan's part. He had deliberately broken the training into over a dozen segments, with significant rest intervals in between.
In total, Eevee's actual training time barely exceeded an hour.
This method wasn't something Ethan came up with on his own—it was gleaned from videos by Professor Sonia on the platform.
According to her research, this was the optimal training approach for Pokémon in their growth stages. It maximized their physical potential without causing undue strain or harm to their bodies.
Despite the method's theoretical and practical reliability, as proven by Professor Sonia, Ethan still sought Eevee's feedback after training.
After all, every Pokémon was unique. Treating conclusions drawn from other trainers and Pokémon as universal truths was a disservice to his own Pokémon.
Fortunately, Eevee's feedback was positive, putting Ethan's remaining concerns to rest.
After dinner, Ethan retreated to his computer, where he updated Eevee's training schedule and edited his next video. Time slipped away unnoticed as the clock approached midnight.
Gentle moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the room in a tranquil glow.
Looking down, Ethan noticed Eevee had crawled onto his lap at some point and fallen soundly asleep.
He sighed softly, marveling at how busy both trainer and Pokémon had been.
Stretching, he carefully moved Eevee to her small bed, washed up quietly, and then fell into a deep sleep himself.
Little did he know, after he drifted into dreamland, Eevee's eyes snapped open.
Confirming Ethan was completely asleep, she tiptoed out of the room and headed to the training machine in the yard.
The moon hung beautifully in the sky, but Eevee wasn't sneaking out to admire the scenery.
Using the moonlight and the faint glow of streetlamps, she fumbled with the controls of the balance and evasion machine.
Her daytime performance? Oh, that had been a deliberate act for Ethan's benefit. After all, her current identity was just that of a young Eevee barely a few months old.
Performing well among her peers was fine, but Eevee had no intention of revealing her Champion-level instincts and experience.
Her main concern was scaring her trainer. She had only been his starter Pokémon for two days. A moderately outstanding performance might seem like a funny story, but being too exceptional would turn it into a horror tale.
She didn't want to spark any wild suspicions from Ethan, so she kept her true capabilities under wraps.
But holding herself back all day had been agonizing.
The slow pace of the daytime training? She could have done it blindfolded, even in her current body. Yet she had to consciously suppress her natural reflexes.
Ironically, letting herself get hit by 25 foam projectiles had been far more challenging than simply dodging them all.
So, the moment Ethan fell asleep, Eevee rushed to the machine for a little "revenge."
She also wanted to test her true limits in her current body.
Having spent ten years with Ethan in her previous life, Eevee knew he was a heavy sleeper, and the machine's faint hum wouldn't wake him.
With practiced ease, she adjusted the variables on the machine, then began her real training test.
Once again, the machine buzzed softly in the quiet yard.
If anyone had been watching, they might have thought they were witnessing a scene from a horror film.
Inside the training chamber, a torrent of foam projectiles—far more numerous, faster, and from sharper angles than during the day—fired relentlessly at the small Eevee in the center.
But Eevee dodged left and right with uncanny precision, as though she had a bird's-eye view of the entire course.
What should have been a first-person survival challenge was turned into an elegant top-down strategy game.
However, it wasn't just about having an almost omniscient perspective. Her reaction speed was equally extraordinary.
No "brain-body lag" here.
Her quick thinking and coordination between her head and her four little legs were flawless.
While her upper body moved with deliberate grace, her high-speed footwork was nothing short of astonishing.
Despite her short legs, which might have been a disadvantage for speed-focused Pokémon, Eevee turned them into an advantage. Her compact frame allowed for swift, agile movements.
Her rhythmic dodging and unpredictable footwork made her performance mesmerizing to behold.
Elegant!
Too elegant!
Unfortunately, there was no audience to appreciate this display of grace.
Under the moonlight's gentle glow, Eevee's secret training continued.
By the end, Eevee didn't manage to finish the session with a perfect score.
In the final stages, her earlier composure gave way to a more frantic pace, and she was eventually struck by a projectile fired from behind.
The counter ticked from 0 to 1.
It wasn't because she increased the difficulty—her body simply couldn't keep up.
Stamina!
Or rather, the lack of it.
Her mind knew what to do, but her body, still in its developmental stage, wasn't yet capable of sustaining the demands.
Panting heavily, Eevee collapsed onto the grass, reflecting on her progress.
There was no doubt her performance today far surpassed her achievements at the same stage in her previous life.
Back then, it had taken her two years of training to achieve this same score under these settings.
Her Champion-level awareness and instincts, combined with the solid foundation she'd built at the breeder's facility, had already put her leagues ahead.
Even so, it wasn't enough.
Her current situation was a classic case of "mind over matter"—her brain knew how to execute, but her body wasn't up to par.
It was frustrating, but she knew this wasn't a problem that could be solved overnight.
The next morning.
As usual, the sun rose, and Ethan logged into his channel.
One number immediately snapped him out of his sleepy daze.
Two million!
That was the view count on his latest video featuring Eevee's debut.
His subscriber count and the views on his older videos had also skyrocketed.
This was money!
Ethan wasn't ashamed of his newfound greed—it was survival. What else could he do?
For someone whose bank account barely held five figures, this news was like a shot of adrenaline.
Unable to contain his excitement, he scooped up Eevee, who was munching on breakfast, and gave her a big, celebratory squeeze.
"Eevee, we're rich!"
"Vee...vee," Eevee forced a weak smile, trying to match Ethan's enthusiasm.
You're amazing. You're noble. But you're not the one showing your face in the videos!
I'm the one crying in front of millions of viewers! I'm the one dying of secondhand embarrassment!
Still, Eevee knew this was ultimately good news.
In her previous life, her early diet had consisted of mid-grade Pokéblocks at best. Now, she could probably snack on top-grade ones like they were candy.
After all, having money really did make life better!
(End of Chapter)