“...Dear Reader, I know the information within may seem unbelievable, but you must throw those compunctions aside. This journal contains the culmination of my life’s work—both of this life and last. Decades of effort went into assembling everything here, and countless Pokémon and trainers contributed to ensure the veracity of what is written. It is my deepest wish for this work to illuminate the potential of future generations. Dear Reader, believe me, everything in this book is completely and utterly true.”
The words from the unknown author’s foreword echoed in Sam’s mind. The very first thing he had done once he was finished processing the book’s existence was to flip back to the foreword and actually read it through. He then proceeded to skim through all of the book’s entries before sitting back in his chair.
He returned to the foreword again.
He reread what was written just in case.
“Completely and utterly true, it says,” he mumbled.
Sam had snuck downstairs and gathered up one of the latest Pokédexes, which now sat on his desk next to him. His mother had commented on it when she noticed him sneak by while she made dinner, but Sam provided the easy excuse of “Just planning out training, mom!”
He did the responsible thing and tried to check if this so-called “New Pokédex” was actually real. While he didn’t have a way to test any of the information on foreign Pokémon, for obvious reasons, one thing still stood out to him:
This decades-old book listed abilities that had only been discovered in the past year. Heck, Banette was clearly listed as having the ability, “Frisk.”
Truth be told, Sam didn’t want to believe this book existed. It was called the “New” Pokédex, yet it was just so old. Pokémon researchers and professors were in a constant race to discover more and more about Pokémon species, both known and undiscovered, but what was the point of all that if this book held all the answers?
It felt like a blow to the stomach, so Sam denied it. After all, if something like this existed, more of the information it contained would be public, right?
He continued to stare at it, genuinely unsure what to do.
Do I believe it? Do I pretend it’s all made up? Or... do I take things into my own hands?
His mom called out to say that dinner was ready. More than willing to have an excuse to leave, Sam climbed down the ladder out of his room while Cyndaquil hopped down the steps to follow. In the center of his kitchen was a small, rounded dining table with raised stools to allow both Delcatty and Cyndaquil to eat alongside Sam and his mom. Plates of battered Pokémon food with sliced berries on the side were laid out for the pair, and for the two humans’ meals, Sam’s mom had made his favorite, spaghetti.
Yet, Sam no longer had an appetite. He wanted to worry about the implications of the book he found, but at the same time, he had no clue what those implications even were!
He sat down, and his mom smiled warmly at him. Cyndaquil jumped up into her chair at the same time. Delcatty was already gracefully chowing down on pre-cut chunks of food, but Cyndaquil wanted to wait for everyone else to start, so Sam forced a few bites down.
“So,” Sam’s mom said. “Manage to find anything interesting up there while I’ve been gone?”
He stared at his food. Sam really didn’t feel like eating.
“...Maybe,” he said.
“Oh? What’d you find?”
“I found... I found a few notes Grandpa left on Cyndaquil. They should help with training,” Sam lied.
Sam wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell the truth, but it felt like his insides were churning. He didn’t want to subject his mother to that same level of confusion.
Who wrote that book?
How did they get that information?
Most importantly, why did his grandfather have it?
“That’s wonderful!” Sam’s mom gained a bright smile, one that was completely unaware of his internal dilemma. “Are the notes useful? What do they say? Do you think you’ll be able to prepare enough in time?”
“Maybe,” Sam said with a shrug. He took his fork and spun noodles around it. “I’m not sure if they’re real or not. I checked parts of it, but I’m worried that they might be... outdated.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
His mother tapped her chin before taking another bite of her food. She made sure to properly swallow before speaking next.
“How’d you check?” she asked.
“Took one of the extra Pokédexes and compared bits and pieces. Everything added up.”
“Have you tried other resources, too?”
“Other resources?”
“Well you spend so long on that computer of ours that I’d figure you might be able to ask some of your friends online,” his mom said.
Sam almost dropped his fork when she said that.
Of course! Active trainers will know more than just what some random book says!
Most written books included information gathered from trainers who actively trained certain uncommon Pokémon species. Heck, it wasn’t rare for Professors who wrote the Pokédexes to pay trainers to fill out surveys and forms!
“That’s perfect! Thanks, mom! I know exactly what to do now! You’ve been a big help! I love you!”
She smiled again and waved a hand.
“Oh, now you’re just making me blush.”
Sam shoveled the food in his mouth, rushing through the meal with gusto. Once he was done, he dumped his plate in the sink before helping with the dishes. Then, he ran to the corner of the living room where the family computer sat.
It was big, blocky, and protected by a thick, white case. The monitor was as deep as it was wide, and the computer tower wasn’t that much better at that. The primary purpose of obtaining this computer was less about having access to websites and more about giving his mother a way to manage emails. While video phones were still the primary form of contact, the ease at which emails let her make orders with companies on the mainland was too much to pass up.
But Sam frequently commandeered the device, mostly for his own entertainment. While online chatrooms were popular uses for the internet these days, Sam primarily used his internet access to visit one specific type of site: Specialist forums.
Of course, Sam was obsessed with the idea of the Ghost Type, and when he heard of a way to talk to Ghost Type trainers across the world, he immediately jumped on it. There were forum boards dedicated to each of the seventeen Types. Ghost might have not been the most popular choice, but seeing people share their stories and post links to battles in the League video archive was really something else.
Though, Sam was still a boy. There were times where the site was used for more entertainment-based purposes, where he browsed threads dedicated to sharing creepy stories. Users would post folktales and campfire stories, often pretending to be characters within the very tales themselves. They’d become travelers detailing trips into dusky forests, gaining and losing members of their group without realizing. Haunted objects would be discussed, and then the item’s owner would share strange experiences they had around the house. The one with the most variants was a tale about a parent whose child was stolen by a Gengar. Despite the subject, it was usually the most light-hearted, as the entertainment came from how the storyteller would ridiculously ignore all “advice” to an extreme extent.
However, as Sam’s mother got ready for bed, Sam wasn't on this site for entertainment this time. Instead, he had a specific task in mind, and he waited until his mother had closed the door to her bedroom to retrieve the journal from his room.
The New Pokédex’s organization was kind of a mess—it seemed to drift between technical summaries and relevant, personal anecdotes—but the very back section of it contained a description of all included moves. Immediately drawn to where Ghost Type attacks were discussed, his eyes locked onto one move in particular. Sam began to quietly whisper what he typed, planning out what to say.
“New Move Idea,” Sam mumbled quietly. “Hey everyone... I have an idea for a move I wanted to try out... no Ghost Types on my team...”
Keyboard clacks echoed out into the otherwise silent living room.
Ghost Types were known for their highly limited movesets, usually being forced to rely on status moves like Hypnosis or moves of other Types, like Psychic and Thunderbolt. The only attacking moves commonly known were Night Shade and Shadow Ball, but those had their own problems and quirks that made many reluctant to use them. After all, Night Shade was directly tied to a Pokémon’s personal level of power, and many still argued that Shadow Ball relied on a Pokémon’s physical strength rather than its special attack.
For this, Sam pulled one potential Ghost Type attacking move out of the book. Getting it confirmed here would both help his verification needs and set him up with a potential new strategy for his eventual Ghost Type team. This attack might not have been as strong as Shadow Ball, but that was only true most of the time.
Including an attack not known to any local region, Sam wrote out the description of a move called “Hex.”
Apparently, it was an Unovan attacking move, but Sam hardly knew anything about that far-off region. While common there, it hadn’t spread here yet, but he really wanted to know if it was true.
Hex damaged the user’s opponent with, well, a hex, but it was extra-effective on Pokémon with status conditions. Combining it with the commonly-known Will-O-Wisp would turn the two attacks into a devastating combination.
All in all, a perfect strategy for the Ghost Type.
“Let me know... what you think...” Sam said, finishing it off.
He sat back in his chair and reread the post once he was done. This was a suggestion to test rather than an explicit discovery—he didn’t want to lose this potential advantage, after all. Satisfied with what he wrote, he hit enter.
The thread was created.
“Alright, Cyndaquil. With this posted online, we’ll know whether or not the New Pokédex is real when people reply. Maybe someone is already using the move, or maybe someone will figure it out from my description. Either way, it should confirm something.”
Now that he had a way to genuinely prove it, he wanted it to be true so he could take advantage of it for himself.
The light went off in his mother’s room. Sam got up to turn off all the other lights in the house, too. The only light was from the computer, and the whirr of its fans provided the sole bit of sound in the room.
He stared at the flickering screen. Watching. Waiting. Praying for a reply. The internet wasn’t the fastest in these parts, so every minute or so he’d refresh the page, and every minute or so, the refreshed page would be finished loading.
The first response came soon enough.
“Dumb idea. Keep it to yourself next time.”
That kind of dismissal was expected; not every random person online was kind.
A few more people posted their comments discussing the potential of the idea, but Sam’s saving grace came in the form of a reply from someone with the username “MatsubaEnju.” Their response was simple:
“Sounds interesting! I'll give it a try.”
“We got one!” Sam cheered.
Despite all his previous worries, he couldn’t help but to gain a smile.
“They’ll test out the attack for us, and if it’s real, we’ll know we have something valuable on our hands. I really hope it is. Imagine if that entire book is true. We could do things no one else could dream of!”
Sam was grinning, but in his lap, Cyndaquil let out a tired yawn. Blinking his eyes, he checked the time: past midnight.
Huh. It’s later than I thought.
The exhaustion of the day getting to him, Sam carried Cyndaquil in his arms to return to his bed. There, he went to sleep with a specific dream in his mind.
When that book is confirmed true, I’ll crush Buck with everything we got!
----------------------------------------
Sam woke up early the next day and rushed back to the computer. Cyndaquil stayed in bed as the computer whirred to life downstairs.
A few minutes after pressing the power button, Sam managed to navigate to the relevant site. To his horror, the forum moderators had deleted his thread, citing that suggestions needed to be kept to the pinned sections. However, he had received a private message.
It was from MatsubaEnju, and it contained only two words.
“It worked.”