Professor Rowan was no longer young, and more than half of the hair on his head had turned white. If he couldn't produce solid research results in his remaining years, people would mock him as just another aging scholar living off a salary he no longer earned.
That was why he devoted himself day and night to his hypothesis, pouring enormous sums of money into his work.
But research was like a bottomless pit, and Rowan had been trapped in its depths for a long time. It devoured funds, and once the direction was wrong, it became a vicious cycle. No results to justify the cost, yet he had no choice but to keep investing more time and resources, hoping that his theory was right after all.
Thankfully, today was different.
He had found the right direction at last, along with a breakthrough significant enough to silence the growing doubts among certain League officials.
"A blessing! A godsend!" Rowan cried out happily. He then rushed to send his thanks and forwarded an entire pre-prepared authorization file without delay.
The academic world had always been at the forefront of Pokémon technology. These days, even signing important documents no longer required being present in person. As long as both parties verified their identities online, everything could be signed electronically.
Not long after, a signed file was automatically returned by the system.
"Quick! Someone print this out!" Rowan slapped his desk and shouted toward the nearby research area.
"Yes, sir!" A tall, thin researcher wearing glasses rushed over. With steady hands, he transmitted the file and made his way to the printer, returning shortly with a thick stack of printed documents.
After sending one last message to bid farewell, Rowan jogged into the research area himself, taking over the tall researcher's task. His voice rang out, filled with passionate urgency.
"Pick up the pace! We're verifying every Pokémon from the Hoenn region today!"
"Yes, sir!"
Dozens of researchers responded in unison, working methodically and efficiently.
...
Galar, Macro Cosmos Headquarters.
Shiro gently closed his laptop, then leaned back on the couch with his hands behind his head, gazing thoughtfully at the clear blue sky outside through the window.
He really wanted to leave Galar and explore the world, especially Kanto.
By observing the current state of Galar's Gym Leaders and Champion, he could make a rough estimate of the Pokémon world's timeline. It was still quite early; even in online photos, Professor Oak looked relatively young, his hair not yet fully grey.
If Ash existed in this world, he probably hadn't even been born yet. If this was the Adventures manga timeline, then perhaps Red had just started his journey.
But being stuck in Galar, Shiro lacked the means to access detailed information about Kanto. Without reliable channels, there was no way to get accurate answers.
There was also the issue of how difficult it was to train Pokémon under the League's governance. Based on Galar's situation, Pokémon, resources that determined one's social standing, were heavily monopolized. For an ordinary person, becoming a Gym or Elite-level trainer to change their fate was nearly impossible.
He wondered if Kanto was any different.
What Shiro truly wished for was a world like the anime's utopia, where anyone could live freely, travel at will, and easily receive a starter Pokémon.
But maybe, if he had ended up in the anime world, he'd find out he wasn't from Pallet Town at all and didn't even qualify to receive a Pokémon from a regional professor.
"Heh…" Shiro chuckled at the thought.
If that were true, it'd make sense why everyone wanted to go to Pallet Town; after all, it was closest to Professor Oak. And some people… were lucky enough to be born there.
"Coor!"
A low caw from Corvisquire snapped him out of his thoughts. The bird rubbed its dark neck feathers against his cheek, then lightly spread its wings and rose into the air. Its crimson eyes were brimming with enthusiasm.
Shiro understood instantly.
It wanted to train.
"It's about that time," he muttered, checking the time on his device. It was almost eight o'clock. Normally, by seven they'd already be in the training room.
He tucked his laptop into his backpack, stood up, and called out, "Alright, Corvisquire. Let's go!"
...
When time sinks into the rhythm of repeated training, things can feel dull and monotonous. But when someone truly enjoys it, the hours fly by.
Shiro still had a stock of Exp. Candies left from earlier victories. He typically mixed them into his team's food, blending them with Pokéblocks in lunch boxes. He'd then nudge the Pokémon to eat more, two bowls at least.
Haunter always looked like it was on the verge of death after each brutal training session. Yet the moment mealtime came around, it would perk right up, scarf down its food, and bounce back like nothing ever happened.
Corvisquire, on the other hand, didn't mind the intensity. But it often glanced at the sleeping Drakloak with a calculating gaze, as if silently estimating how much longer it would need to train to surpass it.
Growlithe and Trapinch had become inseparable. The energetic, playful pup and the quiet, rock-solid ant made a surprisingly good pair. The latter had long since accepted its fate and adapted to the routine: train after meals, eat after training. Nothing complicated. Sometimes, though, Growlithe would run off midway through drills just to drag Trapinch into playing, forcing the poor ant to plod forward with its heavy metal weights and sigh.
Occasionally, Shiro organized sparring matches within the team, or he'd head down to the open-air training field to challenge Allister or Marvin.
Almost every time, he'd spot old man Edgar.
No one knew exactly what he had done to that Sableye, but every time Shiro saw it, the Ghost-type was willingly contorted into a purple crystal chair, its head forming the seat, supporting Edgar's rear like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Seeing the smug old man lounging, Shiro had no words.
An Evolution Stone couldn't possibly compare to a brainwashed Elite-level Pokémon. Those kinds of Pokémon were extremely rare even on the black market, and they were usually the kind that didn't produce any useful resources.
An Elite-level Pokémon with full intellect? No contest.
Still, it was meant to be given away anyway. At least the old man's mouth was shut. Shiro figured it was a worthwhile trade.
If the price of survival was steep, then so be it.
That kind of relentless training and battling went on for nearly twenty days, during which time Shiro's entire team made significant progress. At one point, Shae and Edgar went out on another mission and returned with a good haul of Exp. Candies and various Pokémon resources.
The team of four held another round of internal battles, and Shiro took first place with ease.
Marvin, Allister, and Nessa now each had five Pokémon in their party, all of which had reached Advanced-level.
Unfortunately, none of them had crossed the threshold into Gym-level yet. Especially Allister; every one of his Pokémon was stuck at the very peak of Advanced-level.
Edgar's only comment was, "No rush. Just wait a little longer…"
Good thing Allister treated the old man like his own grandfather and didn't question him. If it had been Shiro, he would've already forced that cryptic geezer to spill everything he knew.
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