Chapter 8: Awakening

I woke up with a dry throat and intense dizziness clouding my vision. I blinked several times, trying to focus, and as I did, I made out the contours of my own room. The sheets wrapped around me like fishing nets, and my body felt numb, heavy, almost as if it didn’t belong to me anymore. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but at least I was home—not at the Academy or in a hospital. I strained to move an arm and was relieved to find that, despite the stiffness, I could wiggle my fingers.

The first thing I heard was my mother’s voice, so close it startled me.

“Aspen!” she exclaimed, her tone heavy with concern. “You’re awake, sweetheart.”

I turned my head in her direction and saw her sitting on a makeshift stool beside my bed, her eyes red from fatigue and sleeplessness. When she saw me blink, she placed a hand on her chest and exhaled sharply, as if she’d been holding her breath for days. I felt a mixture of guilt and gratitude, not knowing which emotion was stronger.

“Mom…?” I croaked, hearing my voice come out hoarse. My stomach growled loudly, as if I hadn’t eaten in days, and even speaking hurt. “What… what happened?”

“My love, you’ve been asleep for almost five whole days,” she explained, watching me intently. “I found you collapsed in your room, and your grandmother told me it was part of something… complicated. I wasn’t sure what to do, but she insisted everything was ‘under control.’ Even so, I was going out of my mind with worry. Are you okay?”

I closed my eyes, trying to process that information. Five days? I vaguely remembered ingesting that toxic sludge from Grimer—or something even worse—that knocked me unconscious. The image of my grandmother pulling out Grimer’s crystal-like teeth, me eating those crystals, and then a series of disjointed dreams flashed through my mind. My stomach burned at the memory, and just recalling that substance made my insides churn.

“Yeah… I guess so,” I managed to murmur. “Just… really thirsty. And hungry.”

My mom nodded, her brow furrowing. She looked at me with tenderness and handed me a water bottle from the nightstand. I drank greedily, feeling the cold liquid soothe the dryness in my throat.

“Stay here; I’ll call to order some food right away. There’s a good restaurant nearby. I’m not cooking anything heavy now—you need something substantial.”

I heard my stomach growl again, as loud as a rampaging Onix. I was surprised by the intensity of the sound, and my mom gave a worried but gentle smile. She stood up and quickly left the room, leaving me with the bottle in hand.

At that moment, my grandmother entered, cane in hand, radiating that presence of hers that, despite her short stature, filled the entire room. She wore a loose shawl draped over her shoulders and had an expression of triumph that made me uneasy—I couldn’t tell if she was proud of me or hiding a mischievous smirk.

“So, you’ve finally woken up,” she said, her lively eyes scanning me. “Sleepyhead, you’ve missed your first week of classes.”

“How… how did I get excused from school?” I asked, anxiety shaking my voice as I tried to sit up in bed.

“Simple,” she replied with a shrug. “We called and said you were sick and needed rest. Besides, there are rumors about an incident in the library—a confrontation. Apparently, the security devices were knocked out, the cameras recorded nothing, and no one knows exactly who or what caused it. They speculate that some Pokémon used an area move, something like Magic Room or Psychic Terrain, which blocked all signals. The result: chaos, but no clear suspects.”

Remembering the fight made me squint; I wasn’t proud of that confrontation, but at least it seemed I hadn’t been implicated or put on any watchlist.

“I thought there would be witnesses…” I muttered.

“It seems everything happened so quickly and chaotically that all that’s left is a rumor about a girl and a strange Pokémon. No one ties you to the incident, there’s no evidence, and almost all recordings were destroyed. You got off with sheer luck.” She raised her chin, inquisitive. “Anyway, the fact is, your first classes are over. It’s Saturday morning, and you’ve wasted your entire week sleeping and… adapting.”

A chill ran down my spine when she mentioned the word “adapting.” I looked at her face, trying to read her expression. She seemed both relieved and filled with a restrained enthusiasm.

“How… did I do?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.

“Quite well, from what I can tell.” She leaned in closer, examining me with an incisive gaze. “Don’t get me wrong—it was a huge risk. But it seems your spleen has assimilated the venom and done so with high compatibility. Even more so, I’d say it’s a strong affinity.”

I felt a strange sense of relief, even though I didn’t fully grasp the terminology. If the compatibility was high, it meant I had survived either by sheer luck or sheer willpower.

“What does that mean, exactly…?”

“That now you’ll be able to do things you could only dream of before,” she replied with near excitement. “But don’t get cocky, kid. You’ve still got a long way to go. And to prove that your body has developed the necessary foundations…”

Without warning, she opened her hand, revealing a muddy, foul-smelling ball of sludge, a much deeper purple than Grimer’s usual sludge. The sour, poisonous stench made me wrinkle my nose. Just the smell made me feel nauseous. I tried to cover my mouth, but I didn’t have time.

“What… is that…?” I managed to murmur.

“Mmm… a substance derived from a very toxic Kanto Pokémon, condensed with my experience in venoms,” she said, leaning over me. Before I could pull back, I felt her cane pressing firmly on my foot. “And with your newly modified spleen, we need to see if you can absorb it.”

“Wait!” I cried, but it was useless. The pain in my foot made me yelp, and at that precise moment, my grandmother shoved the ball of sludge into my mouth. Instinctively, I tried to swallow it whole, choking for a few seconds as my palate burned with an acidic, toxic flavor worse than anything I’d ever tasted.

I started coughing, my stomach churned, and I wanted to vomit, but my grandmother held my jaw firmly. I managed to turn my head aside, but she persisted, keeping me steady.

“Swallow,” she ordered with sharp authority. “Don’t waste it.”

Through retches and tears streaming down my face from the effort, I finally swallowed it. A purple fire spread down my throat, and I felt my chest burn as if I’d swallowed hot coals. I coughed repeatedly, desperate, while my grandmother stepped back slightly, observing me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. It was as if she could see through my flesh and bones.

“Don’t vomit,” she warned, shaking her head. “Let the venom flow.”

“B-but…” I stammered, my voice trembling, my eyes blurred with tears.

Slowly, the initial burning began to subside, replaced by a deeper boiling sensation, a strange tingling that moved through my stomach and anchored itself to my left side—right where my spleen had undergone that dangerous ritual. Suddenly, my ears buzzed, I felt a fleeting dizziness, and almost simultaneously, I experienced a curious pulsation in my fingers.

My grandmother said nothing but smiled with a grin approaching pride. She rested her cane against the wall and crossed her arms, watching me like a scientist examining a test subject.

Then, I noticed something odd. One of my nails was changing color—the nail on the ring finger of my right hand. I blinked, slack-jawed, as the nail turned completely white and sharp, with a gleam resembling a tiny quartz crystal, reflecting the light from the bulb. It was a small detail, but it sent a shiver down my spine. My eyes widened.

“Grandma, m-my nail…?”

“Interesting,” she murmured. Then, without warning, she pricked her left hand with the tip of my transformed nail. Drops of blood welled up, and her skin turned purple. She didn’t flinch; instead, her lips curved into a smile. “Yes, it’s potent. Congratulations. You’re the first in the Meloc family to achieve high affinity with the spleen of the Earth element. This means that from now on, you’ll be able to crystallize and condense venoms you ingest, thanks to the ‘Alchemy Ability’ inherited from your Alolan Grimer. With time and practice, you’ll also generate your own venom. But to do that, you’ll need to modify more organs.”

“Wait, does that mean I can now use Dosy’s ability?” I asked, feeling a mix of euphoria and confusion.

My grandmother pursed her lips, taking a few seconds to reflect.

“The ability of an Alolan Grimer, ‘Power of Alchemy,’ allows it to absorb and manipulate the properties of what it consumes—whether energy, matter, or abilities—infusing its own venom with those characteristics and condensing them into crystals. However, there are significant limitations, like being able to store only one property at a time and losing it once the ability is no longer in use. What you’ve obtained is the foundation of that technique, applied to your body—in other words, the ability to condense venoms. I’m not sure if you’ll fully replicate it because the Pokémon is still the source. Your human anatomy and physiology are different. The ability may manifest in other ways. You’ll probably have to train and discover that for yourself.”

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I nodded, trying to process the flood of information. My stomach growled again, louder than before, and I remembered I hadn’t eaten in five days. Just then, I heard my mother’s voice calling from the other room:

“Dinner’s ready! Aspen? Are you okay?”

Without a second thought, I got out of bed. My body protested, but my hunger was stronger. I hobbled to the dining table, where a feast awaited: piles of noodles, rice, plates of chicken, steaming soup, and some vegetables. Without explaining, I sat down and started eating as if my life depended on it. My mother watched me with a mix of bewilderment and joy, though slightly alarmed at the speed I was devouring food. Every bite tasted like heaven.

I must have eaten enough for four people, at least. When I finally stopped, I noticed everyone was staring at me, including my mother and grandmother.

“Are you going to burst?” my mother asked, bewildered. “You never used to eat this much.”

“I’ve always had an… unusual appetite,” I said, feeling a pang of embarrassment. I remembered my plump figure, a result of my love for food, and how my mom had tried to put me on diets. Now, perhaps, she didn’t see it as such a big deal, but she still raised an eyebrow cautiously.

“Well, at least you’ll get some exercise during the race next week, right?”

“Race…?” I paused, lowering my fork. “You mean in the caves?”

My mom got up and started clearing the dirty dishes, glancing at my grandmother, who remained standing, leaning on her cane.

“Yes, the school announced an activity in Cerulean Caves. It’s supposed to be a race for all first-years or something like that. You missed the first week, but since you were sick, you didn’t find out. Apparently, it’s a way to ‘move up in rank,’ as they said. And it’s a mandatory excursion.”

“Mandatory?” I repeated, my mouth agape. I felt my heart pounding. I wanted to ask a thousand things: why I hadn’t been warned earlier, who my partner would be, how much time I had left.

My grandmother looked at me as if I were a clueless Slowpoke.

“You slept for five days, Aspen. Your first week of classes is over. Now you only have this weekend to prepare.”

“WHAT?!” My eyes widened in panic. A wave of anxiety surged down my spine as I began to mentally plan how to train, win the race, and survive the caves with such little preparation time.

My mother, smiling, placed more dishes in the sink and gave me a fond look.

“It’ll be fun, I suppose. But don’t overdo it. You could also move up in rank by demonstrating talent. I recommend it, son, because Class E is too small for you. At least aim for Class C or B in the future. And who knows? Maybe even Class A, if you work hard.”

All the food in my stomach began to churn with anxiety. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and the atmosphere grew heavy with the momentary silence of my thoughts. Luckily, my grandmother placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. When I looked at her, I noticed an unusual hint of comfort in her gaze.

“Don’t rush. You’re alive and have obtained a special technique. What’s next puts you on equal footing with other special students or those from the 18 clans. But at least for this weekend, I’ll help you train Grimer.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Knowing I’d have her guidance inspired confidence, but it also scared me a little. Training with my grandmother was never easy; she always had extreme methods. Even so, I nodded, grateful.

The backyard of my house had turned into an improvised training ground. My grandmother often cultivated various types of berries and experimented with herbs and potions there. Now, it would serve as my makeshift gym, where Grimer and I could catch up. The sky was clear, and the midday sun offered a fresh breeze.

My grandmother walked with her cane sinking slightly into the soft ground, unhurried. She stopped beside a circle drawn in chalk on the ground.

“Stand there with Grimer. I want to see his level.”

I nodded and called Dosy, who dragged his gelatinous body to the designated spot. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but I noticed Grimer looked a bit firmer in color, as if his mass had gained vitality. Perhaps in those five days, my grandmother had cared for and trained him without me knowing.

“What did you do with him while I was asleep?” I asked curiously.

“I leveled him up a bit,” she replied indifferently. “At least to level 7 or 8. He learned Harden and Bite and has improved his use of Stockpile. But that’s not enough for next week’s race. I want him to reach level 12 so he can learn Disable. Also, I plan to teach him Toxic and Swift with TMs. He’s already mastered his basic moves.”

Surprised, I crossed my arms and kept staring at Dosy, who tilted his head with a gurgling sound.

“Swift?” I repeated. “But isn’t that a Normal-type move?”

“Exactly. And it’s a ranged, self-targeting attack, which will come in handy if you’re in caves and wild Pokémon attack you. You’ll have a variety of moves.”

Grimer seemed pleased with the attention he was getting, even though my grandmother wasn’t exactly showering him with sweet compliments. My grandmother shot me a calculating look.

“I want you to practice with him in an exhibition match against one of my Pokémon. It won’t be too challenging, but it’ll help him sharpen his skills.”

“When can I use the venom of Koffing or Weezing for my lungs? You must have one,” I interrupted, eager to continue with my technique.

She shook her head firmly.

“That’s not something I’ll give you yet. And honestly, I don’t know if you even deserve it. From now on, you’ll have to fend for yourself. This weekend, I’ll help you train just enough, and maybe in a few months, I’ll give you something useful. But don’t expect me to guide you every step of the way. Spoiling you will only make you weak. You can hunt down a Koffing and extract its liquid gas—what amounts to its blood.”

Her tone stung, but it also reminded me how fortunate—or blessed—I was. A normal kid, it turned out, had a genius grandmother exiled from a secret assassin clan, who had taught me a very special venom technique she’d created herself and that only she knew. I understood that I’d already received plenty of help and that it was time to start walking on my own.

I sighed.

“Fine. I’ll manage.”

Lost in thought, I considered all the challenges I would have to face from now on. Traveling, possibly, at some point. The Academy, clan intrigues, the psychic girl… And to top it off, I suspected my mother had realized I was starting down a path she’d avoided her entire life. I wondered if she was upset with me or, deep down, understood.

At that moment, the door leading to the backyard creaked open, and I saw my mother peeking out from the dim interior, wearing that bittersweet smile that meant she’d heard everything. When our eyes met, she shrugged with a resigned expression, as if to say, “This isn’t what I wanted for you, but I’ll support you.” I felt a knot in my throat, but I was also comforted. In the end, she closed the door and left us to our training.

“All right, kiddo,” said my grandmother, pulling me back to the present. “Let’s see if you can hold your own. Let Grimer test his strength against one of my Poison-types. Don’t worry—they’ll hold back. What do you prefer: an Arbok or a Weezing?”

“I don’t know—whatever’s easier to start with,” I joked nervously.

“Ekans, then. Let’s see if you have what it takes to handle your ‘Dosy’ effectively.”

With a flick of her cane, my grandmother released an Ekans from its Poké Ball. The serpent, nearly five meters long, had intensely purple scales and yellow eyes that looked ready to strike. I felt an immense pressure and a primal fear, but Grimer raised his head and, in his lazy way, prepared himself. The sun illuminated their colors, and the air filled with a faint venomous scent.

“Come on, Dosy,” I whispered, kneeling next to my Pokémon. “Let’s strengthen your moves, okay?”

The little blob of sludge let out a gurgly “Griiii” in encouragement.

“Ekans, use Poison Fang on the sludge,” my grandmother commanded in a dry tone.

The serpent coiled and lunged with a venomous bite aimed at Grimer’s side. Startled, I yelled an improvised order:

“Dosy, use Stockpile!”

Grimer swelled slightly as if storing energy within himself. Ekans’s bite didn’t cause too much damage, leaving only a slight indentation in his viscous mass.

The battle continued with a few exchanges, and my grandmother corrected me every time I gave a clumsy command. I realized I didn’t have much experience with real

battles beyond what I’d seen on TV or in casual skirmishes. Still, little by little, I started getting a feel for the rhythm of the fight and how venom seemed to flow through my veins. I could almost sense how Grimer’s toxicity amplified after each attack, as if his essence resonated with mine.

The training session stretched on until the sun reached its zenith, marking midday. Ekans eventually retreated, having provided an adequate lesson to Grimer, who now lay on the ground panting. We decided to take a short break for a light snack—my second lunch of the day—before resuming. Under my grandmother’s strict supervision, Grimer eventually mastered Bite and Harden, and by late afternoon, he had even learned Disable. Around five in the evening, my grandmother announced she would teach him Toxic, something I found spectacular since many Poison-types take time to master such a deadly move.

As the evening progressed, the light faded quickly, and we began to feel the effects of exhaustion. Grimer, utterly spent, fell asleep next to a pile of berries. I collapsed onto the grass, relieved that we had finally wrapped up. My grandmother stood beside me, her expression serious.

“We’ve made good progress,” she said. “But it’s still not enough. The race is in a couple of days, and you think a few training sessions will prepare you for your classmates? Think again.” She shook her head. “The Five Poisonous Organs technique will help you bridge the talent gap. The rest depends on experience, luck, and determination. My part is nearly done.”

“What do you mean by ‘your part is done’?” I asked, sitting up.

She fixed me with a piercing gaze, her brow furrowed as if deciding how to word the inevitable.

“Because this is only the beginning, and from here on, you’ll have to rely on your own ingenuity. I’m not going to hold your hand every step of the way. I’ve brought you into the world of superpowers and clans. Now you’ll either fly or sink.” Her voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “I’ll help you through this weekend to get ready for the race. After that, I’ll give you something very special—my last gift. But as for extracting Koffing’s venom for your lungs, that’s on you.”

I nodded, biting my lip. I wanted to argue, but I knew it was pointless. She had decided it was time to let go, and I had no authority to challenge her.

Meanwhile, my mother, standing behind the door connecting the garden to the kitchen, listened intently. I saw her silhouette against the glass, her eyes glistening with melancholy. Every step I took seemed to pull me further away from the image of the innocent child who once tended berries or conducted harmless experiments. Yet something in her gaze conveyed resignation and a hint of pride. I immediately understood: she knew I had entered the spiral of superpowers—the world she had avoided for so many years. My heart sank a little, but it was comforting to feel that, in the end, she accepted my decision—or at least understood it.

My grandmother stood and offered me a hand to help me up from the grass.

“That’s it for today. Your mother will prepare dinner. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll repeat this, and maybe we’ll solidify those new moves. After that, you’re on your own.”

I swallowed hard and looked up at the reddening sky. The sun was setting, painting the clouds in shades of violet and orange, and I realized time was mercilessly marching forward. In two days, I would be back at the Academy, ready for a race through the Celeste Caves that would determine my immediate fate: whether I’d remain in Class E—the second-lowest—or manage to climb higher. I remembered the promise I had made to myself not to be weak anymore. Maybe, with the venomous power I had inherited from Grimer and the technique my grandmother had taught me, I’d have a chance.

I carried Grimer in my arms with some effort—it was like lugging around a living puddle of sludge—and headed back toward the house, where my mother silently watched us from the doorway. I decided not to dwell on the risks, conspiracies, or threats awaiting me. For at least one night, I wanted to sleep knowing that, despite everything, I had taken a step toward a slightly more secure future.

When I reached my mother, she gave me a sad smile. I understood it was her way of giving me permission to move forward. I returned the smile and patted Grimer, who let out a tired gurgle. I wanted to make sure my steps had meaning, that I wouldn’t be trapped in an endless cycle of dangers, but the truth was, there was no turning back.

“You’re hungry again, aren’t you?” my mother teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Kind of…” I admitted sheepishly. Even though I’d eaten like a Munchlax, I felt like using venom burned through my energy with surprising speed.

We went inside the house. Behind me, my grandmother closed the garden door, her cane echoing against the tile floor. It was a signal that, one way or another, the preparation had officially begun.