Night, inside the personal lounge.
The cold metal walls reflected the white light emitted from the single light tube overhead, making the small room look lifeless.
This was the standard dormitory for the Team Rockets rookie training camp.
Leon sat in front of the hard-board bed. If it were anyone else, sleeping on such a bed would likely leave them feeling uncomfortable all over, but Leon had long since grown accustomed to it.
He operated the exchange terminal embedded in the wall.
With a light tap of his fingertip on the virtual screen, the list of berry materials was pulled up.
[Sitrus Berry: 1 point / 10 berries]
[Figy Berry: 2 points / 10 berries]
[Cheri Berry: 2 points / 5 berries]
...Unlike the pokéblocks found on the market.
The raw material berries for these pokéblocks were not expensive to buy.
Some were even very cheap; of course, with the exception of certain special-attribute berries like Liechi berries and Salac berries.
These types of berries were extremely expensive due to the difficulty of artificial cultivation, the fact they could only be obtained from the wild, and their rich nutritional value.
Without the slightest hesitation, Leon quickly squandered all forty points, exchanging them entirely for berry materials to make pokéblocks.
As the confirmation button was pressed, his point balance returned to zero once more.
The teleportation port in the corner of the room emitted a faint hum, and a pile of colorful berries appeared out of thin air, releasing a mixed fruity fragrance that added a splash of color to the cold room.
"These should be enough to last for a while," Leon murmured to himself.
He skillfully took out his tools and began mass-producing low-grade pokéblocks. Grinding, stirring, shaping, and drying—it was all done in one smooth motion.
His movements were precise and efficient, without a single wasted gesture, as if he were processing a pile of mechanical parts rather than preparing food for a pokémon.
Soon, most of the materials had been transformed into dark brown and earthy yellow cubes, corresponding to the Dark-type and Ground-type respectively; these were the staple food prepared for Sandile.
The remaining scraps were made into pokéblocks of other attributes and simple pink cubes used for restoring physical strength.
Having finished all this, Leon leaned against the wall, watching the Sandile at his feet as it gulped down the pokéblocks with a "crunch-crunch" sound.
This fellow really had quite an appetite.
Leon couldn't help but sigh; the profession of a Trainer was simply a bottomless pit.
Buying a pokémon was only the first step. The subsequent pokéblocks, nutritional supplements, and training items—which of them wasn't a money-swallowing beast?
He had just glanced at the exchange list while he was at it.
The "Soft Sand" that increased the power of Ground-type moves was priced at 120 points for the lowest quality.
The "Black Glasses" that increased the power of Dark-type moves, also of the lowest quality, cost 100 points.
As for those higher-quality items, the prices shot up like a rocket.
Not to mention those rare resources that could help a pokémon break through bottlenecks; any one of them would be enough to instantly bankrupt an ordinary middle-class family.
"The League's resources are highly monopolized. For a commoner to get ahead, it's harder than reaching the heavens."
Leon sneered in his heart.
"In this kind of world, if you don't fight and snatch, how can you become strong? You probably wouldn't even be able to afford to raise your own pokémon."
Although Team Rockets was evil, it had at least one good point: it gave those at the bottom a chance to exchange their lives for resources.
He reached out and stroked Sandile's back.
This time, Sandile's body only stiffened slightly, and it didn't make any more resistant movements, continuing to bury its head in its food.
It had already understood that the human before it was the source of its food and the guarantee of its power.
Looking at Sandile's reaction, Leon was very satisfied.
"Very good, little guy. In the future, I'll seize resources for you, and you'll help me tear apart the enemies blocking our path. We'll get stronger together!"
Sandile continued to scarf down its food, but from its wagging tail, one could see it had no objection to this.
Just then, a suppressed, rustling sound of conversation came from outside the lounge.
"It's this room... that guy Number 7 is inside." a voice said viciously.
"His Nidoran is already dead; he's just trash now!" another voice chimed in, filled with irrepressible excitement.
"Damn it, he relied on being a bit sturdier to bully us plenty before. Today, we'll show him why the flowers are so red!"
"Work quickly, don't leave any traces. As for the instructor's side..."
"What's there to fear? It wouldn't be normal if a few people didn't die in the training camp every year. Who's going to stand up for a piece of trash who lost his pokémon?"
...Leon's movements paused for a moment as he listened intently.
Number 7?
The image of that sturdy youth with a face full of despair on the battlefield surfaced in his mind.
So, trouble had come knocking so soon.
Leon was not surprised. In this jungle where the strong prey on the weak, once you lose your fangs and claws, the hyenas you once oppressed will swarm without hesitation to tear you to pieces.
Number 7 usually relied on his physical strength to bully the weak in the training camp. Now that everyone had pokémon and he had lost his only reliance, those accumulated hatreds erupted collectively tonight.
A faint sound of lock-picking came from outside the door, followed by the muffled thud of the door being kicked open.
Immediately after, there were the low Growls of several pokémon and Number 7's terrified screams.
"What are you doing! Ah—"
The scream was quickly blocked by something, turning into a blurred whimper, and finally, everything fell into a dead silence.
The whole process took no more than ten seconds.
Leon's expression remained normal, as if what happened outside was just a boring farce. He picked up a freshly made Dark-type pokéblock, tossed it lightly with his fingertips, and then flicked it accurately into Sandile's open mouth.
Killing a comrade?
In this 15th rookie training camp, it was far from the first time it had happened. Even before the pokémon were distributed, quite a few people had died during physical training and combat classes.
Leon was long since used to this.
He only realized more deeply that strength was the only foundation for survival in this world.
Not long after, footsteps sounded outside the door again; those people seemed to have finished and were hurrying away.
"Is it cleaned up?"
"Don't worry, it's disguised as an accidental fall. No one will investigate the cause of death for a piece of trash."
The voices gradually faded away.
Leon stood up, walked to the door, and looked out through the peephole. The corridor was empty; only the door to Number 7's dorm was ajar, and a faint smell of blood drifted over.
He withdrew his gaze, his eyes as calm as a pool of deep water.
To him, Number 7's death was just another case verifying his own creed.
Then, his gaze fell on Sandile, who had let out a satisfied burp and was lightly rubbing its head against his trouser leg.
The little guy's level was still too low.
He had to increase its strength as quickly as possible.
Leon opened a drawer and took out a yellowed blueprint.
This was a map of Hoenn he had obtained from the instructor. Although it was a bit old, fortunately, the text and images were still clear.
Comparing it with the map, Leon calculated his future plans step by step in his mind...
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