Chapter 7: OP, Plz Nerf
A literal tsunami of fire washed through the crowd, but instead of an agonizing death by incineration, there was just a soothing warmth that seeped into my bones. It was like the gentle heat of an afternoon sun on your cheek, mixed with the internal comfort of a hot coco after a cold winter’s day, all wrapped in the deep emotional contentment of a hug from your dearest loved one. Despite that, if I hadn’t experienced this before I’d have definitely freaked out.
It was disconcerting watching the streams of fire dancing along my skin. The calming effect was probably what prevented a panic. There were always some newcomers to the ceremony each year, and it was something of a community wide prank not to warn them. A little mean, yes, but overall harmless. Besides, the reactions were priceless; I’d seen a grizzled ranger shriek like a girl once.
As I watched, the sea of flame finished enveloping the crowd and stopped its spread. Instead, it began to gently pulse. The moats of fire started to twist and form into shapes and images that danced about. Some were constantly morphing, while others maintained a single shape and interacted with the awed spectators. Dot shrieked with laughter as a flaming Pikachu scampered around her. I got an ethereal Cubone that juggled its club.
All around us, more and more creatures formed, flocks of burning birds soared in the sky, packs of hazy predators chased fleeing prey. They all twirled and spun in a chaotic mishmash that somehow became a perfectly choreographed whole. An infernal dance.
It felt like they were telling a grand story, that I was just too stupid to comprehend. I’d experienced this once a year for a decade now, and it was just as mesmerizing as the first time I saw it.
Above the enigmatic Professor was the conductor of this ballet of fire.
Moltres.
It was smaller than you’d expect, only a few feet tall, but I knew at its aura level size was malleable. A raging inferno made up its body. The white hot core gave it more substance than the rest of its burning creations. Even knowing this wasn’t the Moltres, it was still awe inspiring.
That had confused me at first, when we learned about them in class. Turns out there are legendary pokemon and Legendary pokemon. I liked to think of them like the Greek gods back on earth.
The pantheon of Olympus was a bunch of pseudo-omnipotent entities that were personified aspects of nature or culture. Yet, despite their godly power, they had human personalities, and those personalities included mortal desires and flaws: joy, hate, humor, jealousy, lust.
So, similar to how Zeus had a plethora of demigod children—the adulterous bastard—some of the legendaries were known to have the occasional dalliance. Moltres being one of them.
There were three progeny of Moltres known to the public. Oak’s was the only one bonded. The other two ruled vast territories out in the wild, far from human settlements, and the league was happy to keep it that way. Occasionally, some idiot would try to catch one, underestimating their power since they weren’t the Moltres—a literal god of fire—but that was like calling Heracles weak because he wasn’t Zeus.
If we were lucky, those idiots were just never heard from again, but a ranger outpost would often be torched in retaliation.
“I think that’s enough,” Oak called, and with a flicker, the fiery spectacle blinked out of existence. The Professor was known as one of the humbler masters out there, but when he did show off, it was one hell of a show. The scariest part, Moltres wasn’t the Professor’s strongest pokemon. Not even close.
“I’m sure the new trainers are done clearing our path, and I’d bet our aspirants are running low on patience,” he smiled jovially, “So let’s head out.”
The Rhydon was released again, and the stage lowered back to ground level, after which the Professor was off, beginning the journey up the path. Moltres circled above him, acting as a literal guiding light.
I took a moment to shake off the awe, and hurried to follow him with my class. The mob trailed behind a few paces. They tried to keep quiet to maintain respect for this important moment in our lives, but I heard more than a few hysterical whispers from first timers.
We followed Oak up the main path—a wide paved road—for a while, before taking a fork off onto a dirt trail. It led away from his main compound and out into the dark forest. As we journeyed deeper, the trees became thicker, and the creatures that called this place their home came out to observe us.
I couldn’t make them out well, with only Moltres as a light source; I didn’t want to risk active aura manipulation around the Professor, just in case he could sense it. Without enhancement, I could only see vague shadows and the reflection from their eyes. Some, I could identify just by that. The large round orbs with yellow irises were probably Caterpie. A group of slanted reds belonged to a Growlith pack. Statistically, the narrow purples were mostly Rattata with a few Ekans thrown in.
Many others, I wasn’t sure about. A hovering set of shimmering blue, a golden pair that seemed to teleport around. I swore I saw a massive slit of orange, directly above, for a moment—but I blinked and it was gone.
The Journey was spooky, I'll admit. Sure, I knew intellectually that none of these pokemon would hurt me, but that was little consolation in the moment.
We continued on our walk for over ten minutes, before reaching a clearing. There, we began descending into a deep crater in the terrain. This was one of nature’s amphitheaters, and at its bottom was the stage; a glistening sheet of smooth gray granite, a couple dozen meters across, with crystal columns jutting out.
This wasn’t something made by the Professor, or anyone else for that matter. These ceremony grounds were scattered all across the world, and their origin was a contentious topic. Some thought they were remnants from an ancient society, long forgotten. Others believed they were simply natural formations. However, the most popular theory was that they were a gift from Mew, Arceus, or one of the other benevolent legendaries. Sadly, none of them had come forward to take credit, so it remained a mystery.
Eventually, we completed our descent, and reached the edge of the platform. Johnny and his yearmates were there, taking their positions around the perimeter. The people of Pallet filled in behind us, and began seating in ascending rows, or as close to rows as could be expected in the dark. Though, they were careful to only sit in their half of the arena. It took a moment for everyone to get settled, but once they did the other ceremony observers began to arrive.
As I watched, Pokemon emerged from the surrounding darkness and occupied the remaining seating. There was a huge variety; nearly every species native to Kanto was represented, with tons of others too. Oak had a truly impressive reserve.
The stand outs were the pseudo legendaries. A pair of Dragonair curled protectively around a Dratini, and a single Pupitar hovered in the back. Anywhere else, everyone would be scrambling to catch them—especially the Dratini—but not here. Not tonight.
The more wild watchers began to settle down, and I tried to calm myself for the start of the ceremony. However, a deep roar split the night, and shook the very ground. A nervous energy spread through the crowd as an orange glow rapidly approached over the forest canopy.
With another monstrous bellow, a Charizard glided into view. It was massive—well over thrity feet long—and released a smothering pressure as it gently banked overhead. Goosebumps spread across my body as it looked down and appeared to gaze directly at me, but I knew that wasn’t the case. It was staring at a point a few feet to my right.
Ash visibly trembled under its watch, as emotions threatened to overwhelm him. I didn’t judge. This wasn’t just any Charizard. This was the Charizard. Ash's father, Red’s, Charizard. The pokemon that gave him the last name Ketchum.
In the pokemon world, surnames weren’t just something passed down in a family. They were symbols; badges of honor that denoted great achievements. Something a trainer could only get if they, or someone in their family, was a pokemon master… Most people, like myself, had only one name.
Samuel Oak had been born as simply Samuel. It was only once he and his Dragonite broke the barrier from blue to indigo aura, that he took up the name Oak, and all of his descendants now bore it too. However, once he—or his pokemon—passed, the name Oak would go with them, but I knew Gary and his sister were determined to carry on the name by reaching master themselves. A daunting goal.
Every trainer and pokemon could reach blue density in their lifetime. Most didn’t because of the immense time and effort involved, but that’s besides the point. The same couldn’t be said about indigo.
There were prodigious trainers and pokemon that blazed their way through the aura spectrum and reached blue density in record time, only to remain stuck there for the rest of their lives. Nobody knew the cause. Even the masters weren’t sure of a solution, considering most of their apprentices and descendants got stuck too.
I was brought back to the moment as the Charizard landed at the very edge of the clearing. It was still staring at Ash, who was nearly hyperventilating now.
Red Ketchum was a prodigy. Starting as one of Oak’s apprentices, he gained fame by winning the amateur league three consecutive seasons, breaking Oak’s own record of two. His legend only grew when he became a master at eighteen, the youngest ever.
He was in the Rangers when Hoenn invaded, and fought on the front lines for four years before falling in battle, dying in an ambush along with Gary’s parents. Their deaths were what made the Professor set aside his pacifist beliefs, and join the fight. The war was over in two weeks…
Anyway, Charizard was the only survivor from Red’s team. His murderous rampage had lasted for days and cut huge swaths through Hoenn. Most pokemon returned to the wild when their partners died, but the great dragon—weather from loyalty or guilt—had returned. Delia Ketchum hadn’t had the typing, let alone the cultivation base, to bond with the grumpy lizard. Still, he expressed his desire to wait for Ash.
Some wanted to strip away the name Ketchum, since nobody in the family was a master anymore, but Oak had argued that they should keep it. After all, they did have the allegiance of a mastery level pokemon. Nobody argued against the Professor, especially that soon after the war. Thus, Ash and his mom were still Ketchums, but that could change tonight.
If the anime protagonist didn’t have a prime—or at least high—affinity for fire or flying, he’d never be able to bond with Charizard. The mighty dragon had been incredibly patient, waiting all these years, but it was doubtful it’d stick around if Ash wasn’t compatible, and no Charizard meant no Ketchum.
His father’s legacy depended on tonight’s results… No pressure.
“Thank you all for coming here for this most sacred evening,” Oak had taken his place in the middle of the testing grounds, “Tonight, six pairs will begin forging a bond that will last a lifetime,” his voice perfectly echoed through the arena without amplification, “It is a sacred union. One that our ancestors have made since time immemorial. They will demonstrate that together we—human and pokemon—can achieve the impossible.”
This was a very different message than the warning he’d given earlier in the evening, but I could tell from the passion in his voice that he actually believed this one.
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“Who will be the first to forge this bond?”
For a moment, I struggled to push myself forward, but Leaf stepped out before I overcame my nerves. A little embarrassing to be beaten by a young girl, but that was just the toxic masculinity speaking.
Leaf was fairly average, with long brown hair and moderately tanned skin. She was wearing the classic outdoorsy look of the pokemon world: hiking boots, cargo pants, dark green tank top. As she forged her way forward, Oak made himself scarce. This moment was for Leaf alone.
She approached the central column but hesitated to touch it. I could understand, it was a big moment.
There were eighteen of these columns positioned across the ritual sight. Multi faceted, and vaguely opaque, each crystal was a different color, representing each of the aura types. They stood at waist height and a foot across.
The central column was practically clear, representing normal type energy or universal type energy. It was so named since everybody had at least a medium affinity for it. The other seventeen were on the edges. Twelve were on one half of the perimeter, clumped into four groups of three. These were the natural twelve, representing the standard personality groupings.
This had been the most confusing part for me to learn in this world. Everything else, like the type chart, move sets, and evolution lines, were mostly the same as I remembered from my first life. Even the aura spectrum and cultivating could be interpreted as a weird sort of level and stat system. The personality type grouping, however, was completely foreign.
There were four trifectas.
The passionate: fire, electric, and flying.
The stoic: rock, steel, and fighting.
The adaptive: water, ice, and poison.
The nurturing: grass, ground, and bug.
They were grouped this way, and thus named, because people who had a prime affinity for one of the composing types could usually be defined by that character trait. It wasn’t always clear, since these descriptors were so vague, and could be interpreted in many ways.
For example, Marcus—a fighting prime—fell into the stoic trifecta. He was hard working, honorable, and fanatically dedicated to supporting his family and community. Every waking second he wasn’t training, he put into helping others. Hence why he volunteered for the scavenger hunt.
On the other hand, another famous stoic was Bruno Siba, the epitome of the reclusive master. Reported to spend months alone in the mountains, the fighting specialist completely neglected his duties in the elite four, only maintaining the position because nobody could take it from him. Apathetic was the best way to describe him. So despite their same typing and underlying characteristic, Marcus and Bruno could hardly be more different.
My musing ended as Leaf seemed to make her decision. She squared her shoulders and resolutely focused on the nurturing trifecta of grass, ground, and bug. It was considered a sign of maturity to correctly guess your primary typing, which you indicated by your body's position. There wasn’t a punishment for being wrong, but it was embarrassing.
Finally, the girl placed her hand on the normal type column. A wave of light spread down her arm and into the crystal, before propagating outwards in spider web cracks in the granite platform. Eventually, the flow reached the other aura gems which began to shine at varying intensities.
The bright green light and ethereal leaves, emanating from the grass column, meant Leaf had chosen correctly. The other two nurturing types were also glowing fairly intensely, as was standard; A trainer always had high affinity for the other two energies in their prime’s trifecta. Most of the other columns were much paler, with the noticeable exception of ice, which was also at the high level. The five solitary columns, taking up the opposite half of the circle from the natural twelve, were predictably dim.
Leaf seemed to snap herself back to reality, and pulled her hand from the central spire. Nervously, she turned to look at the portion of the stadium filled with wild pokemon, and waited with baited breath. Gradually, a few began to descend from the horde. There was an Oddish, Bellsprout, two Shroomish, and a Bulbasaur.
She took her time, carefully observing them as they assembled before her, and gently placed her hand on each of their heads. Aura communication was vague without a bond, but they could still get a general feel for each other. Eventually, the Odish and both Shroomish, backed away. Leaf would have to pick between the Bulbusaur and Bellsprout.
After a while, she pulled a pokeball from her belt and presented it to the yellow flower-mon. Not what I was expecting. I think she had a Bulbasaur in the games, but again—I had to remind myself—this wasn’t the games. The tiny grass pokemon promptly pressed its head against the red orb, capturing itself in a flash of light.
The stadium erupted—cheers from the people and various animalistic calls from the pokemon—as everyone celebrated the new duo. Leaf ignored us, as she promptly released her new starter and wrapped them in a tight hug. After a moment, she picked her companion up and exited the stage, taking up her spot just behind the grass column. Two trainers, from the year above us, stood to either side of her. Lillyanne by the bug column and Gregory by the ground.
Before I realized it, Gary took the stage next. Strutting was a good descriptor for his walk—like a runway model. The intrusive thought of him in a dress and high heels almost made me ruin the sanctity of this moment.
Without hesitation, he placed his hand on the central spire, and positioned himself across from the adaptive trifecta. The genius judged himself accurately, proven by the water crystal lighting up a vibrant blue as waves danced across its surface. The ice and poison were also lit up. That was quickly overlooked, however, as one of the ethereal five began to glow.
The five ethereal types—fairy, psychic, dragon, dark, and ghost—didn’t follow the same personality rule as the four natural trifectas. They were also far more rare. Everyone had a primary affinity for one of the natural twelve. About one in ten had two primary affinities. Most of the time, these were for two in the same trifecta. Occasionally they’d be in different divisions, but—very rarely—one would be in the ethereal five.
Just having a medium affinity for an ethereal aura was uncommon. They were considered otherworldly, inhuman, and were arguably more powerful than the other types. Whether this was actually true, was a contentious topic among researchers. However, the fact was that most wild territories were ruled by a pokemon of the ethereal type.
Gary—the lucky bastard—had an affinity for one of these types, and the intensity of the glow suggested it was even at the high level. The worrying part, however, was which of the five. Pitch black light, a visual paradox, radiated from one of the columns. Dark type.
The five ethereals may not have a personality trait associated with them, but instead had a reputation from the actions—bad or good—performed by the people and pokemon of that type.
Fairy and psychic were known as the benevolent pair. Masters of these were paragons of good and justice. Even wild psychics and fairies tended to be helpful and friendly.
Dragon was a mixed bag. Wild dragons were aloof and unpredictable. History remembered their masters as bringers of change. Whether for good or bad, depended on the master—and, more importantly, the interpretation of the historian.
Take Samuel Oak as an example. The dual fire/dragon prime had conquered the league in his youth, completely restructured the government, restricted clan power, disbanded the authorized clan enforcers (ACE), and formed the rangers. Then, he vacated the title after only three years and founded Pallet Town. Many debated whether he had helped or harmed with his actions, but he inarguably changed things.
Finally, the malignant two, dark and ghost. Masters of these were incredibly rare. Agatha Kikuko, the ghost/poison specialist of the elite four, was the only one alive in Kanto. This wasn’t because primes of these types were less common than the other, they just tended to die before reaching mastery. Some were killed by angry mobs or were ambushed by paranoid trainers, but most perished in one of their mad schemes. For, that’s what dark and ghost types were known for.
Madness.
Stories from masters of the past painted a vivid picture: genocidal dictators, religious fanatics, crazy scientists. Perpetrators of great and terrible things, all.
Artificial pokemon like Porygon, Castform, and Golett were creations of crazy ghost masters of the past. There was a myth that the Orange Archipelago was formed when a powerful Dark master attempted to catch Groudon. Not a Groudon, the Groudon.
In modern times, the recent war with Hoenn had been instigated by the elite four member, Sidney Kagetsu; a dark/grass master. This was done without the consent of their champion at the time, Steven Stone, or any other part of the Hoenn governing body.
It had been discovered after Oak brought an end to the war. He had forced the leaders of both regions to sit down and actually talk together to try and hash out some sort of peace. Progress was difficult initially, since both sides blamed the other for beginning the war, so an investigation was conducted to reach the bottom of the matter.
Turns out, the fanatical dark master performed a false flag operation, leading an attack on Slateport City while disguised as Indigo rangers. He killed tens of thousands of his own people that day, starting a war for reasons that were still not understood. Unfortunately, we probably never would since Sidney and his cult of zealots all died by the end of the war; they had the tendency of taking risks that bordered on suicidal.
So, with this historical precedent, it was no wonder that people were wary of anyone with even a hint of affinity for the two malignant aura types. Mutterings of discontent spread through the spectators at Gary’s test results. Even the grandson of the famous professor couldn’t escape suspicion. At least it was only at high and not his prime… Things could have gotten messy.
Ignoring the naysayers, Gary turned to the assembled pokemon and struck his pose. Though, I could see his eyes were still cracked open. Even he wasn’t confident enough to keep them closed during this crucial moment.
A Horsea, Froakie, Whooper, Corphish, and even a flopping Carvanha, made their way down the slope; how far had that fish traveled across land to be here tonight? Finally, a murmur of awe spread through the crowd when a Squirtle waddled up.
It was a bit small for its species, wore a smug expression that nearly mirrored Gary’s, and—most importantly—had a black shell. A shiny Squirtle.
Shinies, or type variants as they were scientifically called, were more than just differently colored pokemon. They were individuals with affinities outside the standard typing for their species.
Unlike back on Earth, there wasn’t a single shiny for each species. Instead, there was theoretically one for every aura energy. It was an incredibly rare phenomenon, so an example of every type-variant for most pokemon hadn’t been documented, but the more common species had. The variants of Pidgey were personal favorites of mine, especially electric; the static running through its feathers made it perpetually puffed up and fuzzy… I couldn’t wait to see Static again. Maybe he’d let me touch him for once.
Gary didn’t hesitate. He immediately approached the Squirtle, and after only a brief aura communion, presented his pokeball to it. A little rude to not even give the other pokemon consideration, but they really didn’t have a chance. This was a dark variant Squirtle. It was almost tailor made for Gary.
The bastard had gotten so lucky… Too lucky, now that I looked at it. What were the odds that a Carvanha (the only first stage water/dark type), Froakie (a future Greninja), and a Corphish (a future Crawdant) were all here tonight? I’m fairly certain that those were every standard water/dark pokemon. Add in a shiny Squirtle…
I glanced over at the Professor as Gary captured his starter, but I couldn't tell if his satisfied smile was just from normal parental pride, or if it contained something more.
Measuring a person's aura affinity before the starter selection ceremony was supposed to be impossible, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the legendary master had figured out a method. I was on the verge of it myself, after all… This situation stunk of nepotism.
Traditionally, a starter was supposed to be fated. Chosen from the wild pokemon that happened to attend the ceremony that night. Rich families and clans, however, were known to collect rare pokemon and release them during their aspirants’ selections. It was frowned upon, but not illegal.
I’d bet the Professor had taken advantage of our small class size and just released these pokemon earlier today. The odds of one of us having the same aura affinity as Gary were minimal, so he didn’t have to worry about the rare pokemon going to someone else. Thus, he got to give his grandson the best possible options for his starter, without showing obvious favoritism. Clever bastard.
I had been so caught up in my musings that I was shocked when Ash stepped out onto the testing grounds. Gary had joined Johnny behind the water crystal while I was distracted. Looks like I’d be the last of the three musketeers to go.
Ash was far less cocky than the pompous prodigy, and hunched under the weight of so many eyes gazing upon him, especially those of a certain orange lizard. He paused upon reaching the middle, and tried to collect himself. I hoped he didn’t have a panic attack.
“Let’s do this!” he shouted in excitement. Whipping his hat around, similar to how he would in the cartoon back home, and grinned confidently. Seems I was worried for nothing.
He resolutely gazed upon the passion trifecta, eyes alight with determination, particularly on the fire and flying columns. I was fairly certain he had little to worry about. There were few people more passionate than Ash Ketchum.
I was right. The red column glowed like a bar of molten steel, and the yellow sparked as lightning danced across it. Fire/Electric primary typing. The surprises continued to roll in, as the aura light continued to spread, and—one after another—every other column began to shine too, including the ethereal five!
I tried to blink away the hallucination, but nothing changed. Ash had at least a medium affinity in every aura energy. Most were actually at the high level! That was completely unprecedented.
The rule was one or two prime, three or four high, and five or six medium. That's it! The rest would all be low. Even if you got the upper of all of those, you’d only have twelve affinities. What was happening?!
“Shit,” I uttered as a horrifying thought occurred to me. Luckily the noisy crowd covered my swear; I didn’t want Dot picking up bad habits from me. Maybe I was in the pokemon show, just a weird alternate version of it.
This was anime protagonist bullshit!