Chapter 6: Welcome

The door creaked open slightly, and before I could even say “hello,” I was met with my grandmother’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed with a contained fury that shook my determination. I was still reeling from everything that had happened at the Academy—my arm hastily bandaged, my mind whirling with images from the library. My breathing was ragged, as though I’d sprinted up all the stairs at once. My grandmother, Julia, usually greeted people with a smile that wrinkled her face in a nearly adorable way, but at that moment, there wasn’t a trace of sweetness. An oppressive aura emanated from her, so tangible it made it hard to hold her gaze.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked. She didn’t raise her voice, but a faint vibration shook the air around me.

I tried to explain, stammering, “Grandma… I’m sorry. It was at the Academy… I had… an encounter with… a psychic girl…” My voice came out broken, barely audible to myself, because the silence that followed was deafening. Her shadow, stretched long across the wall behind her, shifted unnaturally, as though it were a living entity responding to her anger.

“A psychic girl?” she repeated, frowning. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes… it’s not that bad,” I murmured. My arm, my head—everything hurt. “But she almost killed me. It was partly my fault…”

In that instant, I felt something press against my chest, as though the very air had thickened. That invisible power weighed on me, and even breathing became harder. My skin prickled; a chill ran up my spine. I didn’t know if it was a side effect of her energy or just a reflection of my fear. For a few seconds, I thought I might pass out. Then, my grandmother exhaled slowly, closed her eyes, and the oppressive atmosphere lightened slightly. Her shadow stopped writhing and settled back into a more ordinary shape.

“Talk,” she ordered, her tone lower but no less harsh.

I felt my knees tremble but forced myself to stand firm. Keeping an eye on my injury, I recounted as clearly as I could what had happened: how I’d gone to the library to research Alolan Grimer, how I had encountered that girl, Vera, with an Abra floating at her side, and how she had launched a psychic attack almost without warning. I described the flying paper blades, the suffocating mental pressure, and the unrestrained fury of that trainer who accused me of being part of the Poison Clan and trying to kill her. My grandmother listened in silence, unblinking. I noticed her jaw tighten when I mentioned Abra. Suddenly, she raised a hand to stop me.

“Did you say Abra?” Her eyes widened with incredulity. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely sure,” I replied. “It wasn’t an ordinary Pokémon—she used it to teleport and reinforce her attacks. It even prevented us from landing a final blow. And she mentioned something about the Psychic Clan pursuing her… or hiring Poison assassins to watch her. I didn’t fully understand. She seemed really scared.”

“Mmm,” my grandmother nodded thoughtfully. “An Abra is typically a starter Pokémon reserved for members with pure or primary lineage from the Psychic Clan. They’re very strict about it. They don’t hand them out to just anyone, but from what you’ve said, she doesn’t sound like a direct descendant.”

“That’s what she claimed,” I added. “She said the Psychic Clan was after her, that they considered her a threat or something like that.”

My grandmother was silent for a moment, but when I mentioned how Vera had become violent when I brought up Sabrina, she interrupted me:

“You mentioned Sabrina?” she asked, almost growling. Her shadow quivered slightly again.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, during the fight… I didn’t think it was such a big deal. She got furious as soon as I mentioned her. Her forehead glowed with this intense pink light. It was… strange, like that rage completely blinded her.”

My grandmother shot me a look that screamed, “You’re an idiot,” without needing to say it out loud. In fact, she did say it aloud:

“Are you stupid or what? Sabrina is a key figure in the Psychic Clan. You don’t know how territorial they are or how easily they react when you bring up their leaders. A minor provocation is enough for them to crush their enemies. That girl could’ve turned you into a broken sack in the hallway if she’d lost a little more control!” She struck the floor with her cane, clearly furious. “You’re just as reckless as your father—a blockhead who doesn’t think before he speaks.”

I opened my mouth to protest but shut it again. She wasn’t entirely wrong; it had been a massive blunder, a stupid mistake on my part that could’ve cost me my life. And the worst part was that it all happened so fast I didn’t have time to think.

With a huff, she turned around and gestured for me to follow her into the house. I shut the door and trailed behind her. The familiar aroma of the kitchen mixed with the scent of medicinal herbs, and despite everything, I felt slightly calmer—at least I was in familiar territory. However, I realized I still felt a tingling sensation on my skin every time I looked at her silhouette; her anger hadn’t entirely subsided.

“Bring out your Grimer,” she ordered. “I want to see how it’s doing.”

Without hesitation, I released Dosy from its Poké Ball. My partner appeared on the floor with a slight squelch. His greenish-blue sludge seemed dull, and his eyes were half-closed from exhaustion. He dragged himself over to my feet, leaving a wet trail behind him. That’s when my grandmother knelt down to his level. She leaned her cane against the wall, sighed, and placed her right hand on Dosy’s viscous head.

Almost immediately, I felt a slight tremor ripple through the air. My grandmother’s shadow elongated, partially covering Grimer’s body, but this time it didn’t feel threatening. Instead, it was warm, like a protective blanket. Something inside me recognized that energy—it was the same soothing presence I had felt as a child when I hurt myself in the garden or had a stomachache. It was the way she channeled her mastery over poison into healing. Dosy blinked in surprise, gradually relaxing, and I could sense his breathing ease.

“That’s enough,” my grandmother said, pulling her hand back. “He’ll recover; the psychic contusion isn’t fatal, but he needs rest.” She stood up with a slight grunt of effort and then looked at me. “Now, tell me more about this girl. Why the hell did she attack you out of nowhere?”

I explained what I could remember in detail, trying to recount Vera’s words: that she was being hunted, that she mentioned Poison assassins, and that she didn’t seem aligned with Sabrina or the Psychic Clan’s official hierarchy. My grandmother frowned, as though piecing together a mental puzzle that didn’t quite fit. She was surprised to learn that Vera didn’t match the image of “pure lineage,” as an Abra wasn’t something easily acquired. For a moment, she seemed poised to dig deeper. However, when I was about to ask more about the pink glow and the rage Vera displayed at the mention of Sabrina, she gestured for me to drop the subject. A fleeting thought crossed my mind—she probably didn’t want me to know too much about the connection between the Psychic Clan and certain secrets that weren’t meant for me yet.

Stolen novel; please report.

I took a deep breath, feeling uneasy, and seized the opportunity to ask something that had always lingered in my mind:

“Grandma, what’s the deal with starter Pokémon? You mentioned Abra as a psychic starter… This is the first time I’ve seen one.”

For a moment, her tense expression softened, as though this topic was less painful to discuss. However, her usual sharp tone returned quickly.

“Don’t you know anything?” she clicked her tongue. “I suppose your mother didn’t tell you much. Listen, Kanto has 18 clans, but there are four we’d call ‘central’ or ‘primary’ because of their major influence in the region: Psychic, Fighting, Poison, and Dragon. They have their hands in the Pokémon League, the Federation, and everything else in Kanto. These clans control most of the resources, advanced academies, and, of course, political power.”

I nodded, recalling the vague stories I’d heard here and there.

“Each of these clans offers a starter Pokémon to young people with enough talent or lineage. For the Psychic Clan, it’s Abra. For the Fighting Clan, Machop. In the Poison Clan, Zubat. And for the Dragon Clan, Dratini. They’ve bred these Pokémon for generations, perfecting their lineages. Train them properly, and they can become formidable allies.”

“Zubat?” I muttered, intrigued. “I always thought it was just a common cave Pokémon.”

“It is, for ordinary people. But the Poison Clan has special specimens, with lineages tracing back generations. Plus, since many ordinary folks capture them too, it’s easy to blend in or go unnoticed by others.” A glimmer of nostalgia appeared in her eyes. “I had one myself, decades ago. But they don’t hand them out so easily anymore; you have to be deeply entrenched in the clan’s hierarchy.”

I exhaled heavily. It seemed every secret opened two more. “Isn’t there a stronger Poison starter, though?”

My grandmother tensed slightly; her shadow quivered faintly against the wall. “There is another, yes, but it’s contested with another clan. Very dangerous, to be honest. For now, no novice would dare use it. Don’t ask me more. I won’t get involved in that conflict.” She crossed her arms. “In any case, it’d be a terrible choice for you. Too many problems.”

I stayed quiet, trying to process everything. From the way she spoke, it sounded like something far more serious than a simple rivalry between trainers. Then, as if to steer the conversation away, she gestured toward Grimer, who was now resting with a vacant look in his eyes.

“In any case, you already have your Alolan Grimer. That says a lot, considering he has Power of Alchemy, which will come in handy for cultivation. Most native Kanto Pokémon wouldn’t be as useful, except maybe a Bulbasaur or a Nidoran. But both are tied to the Grass and Ground clans, and they won’t

let you get one without strings attached. So forget about it.” She waved dismissively, as if brushing off an annoying thought. “Your best option is to look to other regions. The Academy, if you rise to Class A or B, will allow you to travel and perhaps acquire Pokémon better suited to your style. And if you’re serious about cultivation, you should aim for Arándano Academy, the interregional school. That’s where people willing to do whatever it takes to advance go.”

“That sounds… complicated,” I murmured, shrugging. The mere thought of such a demanding place made me feel exhausted.

“That’s up to you,” she replied brusquely. “You’ve already stepped into the world of cultivation, so don’t do things halfway. Foolish boy. By the way, I’m sure there are people at the Academy with lineages from other regions. Pay attention to everyone, not just the psychics.”

My head spun with all the information. I was about to ask for more details when she suddenly approached Grimer and, without warning, opened his mouth with a firm motion. Dosy let out a startled cry, clearly alarmed. I leaned forward to protest, but my grandmother had already shoved her hand into his mouth, rummaging around inside. The sludge sparked faintly with neon-colored glimmers where her hand made contact.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed, horrified.

“What I need to do,” she replied without blinking. “These ‘teeth’ are hardened venom crystals, a byproduct of your Alolan Grimer’s Power of Alchemy. I need them to start your cultivation, right here and now.” She glanced over her shoulder at me, holding out the crystals. “Eat them.”

I thought I’d misheard. I stepped back, letting out a disbelieving gasp.

“What…? Are you insane?”

“Do as I say,” she insisted, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “If you’re serious about the Five Poisonous Organs technique, there’s no time to waste. The first step is to absorb a venom compatible with your spleen, which will be the first organ you modify. Power of Alchemy aligns perfectly with Earth. Eventually, you’ll be able to crystallize your toxins, just like this Grimer does naturally. But to do that, you must ingest its essence. That’s the foundation.” She shifted her gaze to Dosy. “And you, stop whining, sludge ball. This will be good practice for your regeneration.”

Dosy whimpered, his eyes half-closed in visible pain. His mouth now showed gaps where his crystalline teeth had been. I bit my lip. My grandmother wasn’t giving me much of a choice. No matter how much I wanted to protest, I remembered my decision not to feel powerless again. If cultivation required extreme measures, perhaps this was the price. Even so, my hands trembled as I took one of the crystals. I held it up to my face, studying its iridescent reflection and razor-sharp edges.

“This is…” I hesitated, cold sweat running down my neck. I glanced at my grandmother and swallowed hard. She didn’t let me finish.

“Eat it,” she commanded. “And focus on your body. You must guide the venom to your spleen. Concentrate on that area, make the toxin settle there. If you fail, you could die.”

I felt like I was on the verge of collapse, but there was no turning back now. I brought the crystal to my mouth and bit down. It was like chewing glass wrapped in liquid fire. A sharp pain shot through my tongue and teeth. A corrosive heat slid down my throat, something between acidic and electric, like swallowing a burning coal. I reeled, leaning back with the urge to spit it out.

“Don’t waste it,” she growled. “Chew it properly.”

Summoning every ounce of courage, I obeyed, feeling each shard crunch and release a searing juice that blurred my vision. My mind contracted under the strain; sweat poured from my body, and a faint ringing filled my ears. With an almost inhuman effort, I swallowed the venom, feeling it drop into my stomach like molten lead.

“Focus,” I heard her voice, distant but firm. “Imagine your spleen as a vessel. Guide the venom there.”

My vision blurred as I struggled to obey. I remembered her explanation about the spleen’s location—on the left side, beneath the ribs. Closing my eyes, I tried to visualize it while consuming the last fragments of crystal. Each breath sent spasms of pain through me. A terrible burning sensation coursed through my chest and stomach, and I had the horrifying feeling that I was being torn apart from the inside. I forced myself to suppress the urge to vomit.

Suddenly, a dull throb pulsed in my side. It felt like a cold tingling mixed with toxic heat. I started to hyperventilate, my legs buckling beneath me. I collapsed to my knees on the rug. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, and my breathing became erratic. My grandmother’s voice persisted, steady, but I barely registered her words. A deafening murmur filled my ears. I remember trying to fix my gaze on Grimer for comfort, but the dizziness was too overwhelming. The room spun, shrank, and my consciousness faded to a pinpoint.

The last thing I felt was my forehead hitting the floor. After that, darkness swallowed me whole.

What happened next was beyond my comprehension, as I couldn’t hear or see anything. However, from another perspective, reality continued. My grandmother, Julia, stood over my collapsed body with a sigh, her gaze sharp and focused. She watched as Grimer approached me, letting out a concerned gurgle and nudging me with his sludge to wake me up. She stepped back, and with a couple of taps from her cane, she summoned her shadow. It peeled away from the wall like a living entity. From that darkness emerged a sinister smile, and the outline of a Gengar became clear: a stout figure with pointed ears and a mischievous glare.

“Take him to his room,” she instructed. Her tone was soft but unquestionable.

The Gengar tilted its head, baring sharp fangs in a perpetual smirk. It approached me and, with surprising ease, lifted my limp body in its small claws. My head lolled lifelessly against my chest, and Grimer let out a compassionate sound but didn’t dare interfere. The ghostly Pokémon carried me delicately and left the room, crossing the dim hallway until it reached my bedroom. There, it placed me on the bed. A faint trail of purple smoke lingered in the air as Gengar chuckled with a guttural tone, its ghostly presence clinging to the walls.

Meanwhile, Julia moved to the telephone resting on a side table in the living room. Her expression wasn’t kind or harsh but a mix of determination and caution. She picked up the receiver and dialed with a trembling finger. She waited a few seconds until someone answered.

“Agatha?” she said, her voice suddenly sweet, almost mocking. “Yes, it’s me, Julia. Stop pretending you don’t recognize the voice of an old friend.” She let out a slight cough. “Tsk, what I’ve found out today… My grandson came home with his arm in a mess. Says he fought a psychic girl. Calls herself Vera, apparently. It seems the Kanto Academy is full of extraordinary individuals. This world is getting more complicated.”

She paused, her face tightening as she listened to the response on the other end of the line.

“Oh, you’ve heard of her too? I thought so. My grandson described her, and I think she fits the image of the Psychic Clan’s ‘pure lineage,’ but she has an Abra… Yes, yes, I know, it’s strange.” She glanced toward the staircase leading to my room. “At least Aspen didn’t end up dead. But he’s started the cultivation process. He swallowed his first venom, and now he’ll have to adapt or perish. He’s as stubborn as his father. But I trust he’ll live.”

A dry chuckle escaped her throat. At that moment, she tapped her cane against the floor, perhaps out of unease.

“Other young people with peculiar talents at the Academy? Of course, I don’t doubt it. Too many bloodlines are gathering there. This year is going to be eventful… Who knows what trouble my grandson will get into?”

Julia pulled the receiver slightly away from her ear, her expression one of hesitation. She didn’t want to get involved, but she believed it was necessary. Lowering her voice to a near whisper, she said:

“No matter how long it takes, can you get me a Gastly with potential, Agatha? In exchange, I’ll tell you everything I remember about the Normal Clan’s technique I read decades ago in Koga’s secret vault.”