Sigh...
So transmigration is really something that can happen to a person like me, huh.
Guo Yi exhaled deeply as he finished absorbing the memories of his body's former owner. Stepping out of his thatched cottage, he looked into the distance.
In the thick bloom of flowers not far away, a small group of Butterfree were gathering nectar. Up above, a few Pidgey and Spearow flitted quickly through the sky. And in the crystal-clear stream nearby, that familiar flash of red—Magikarp—leapt from the water in energetic arcs.
This was a world where Pokémon had fused seamlessly into reality.
Roughly a few centuries ago, the first Pokémon crossed into this world through mysterious rifts known as "secret realms."
At first—
Because of their incredible abilities—breathing fire, manipulating water, even triggering earthquakes and tsunamis—humans had called them magic beasts in fear and awe.
But as exploration of the secret realms progressed, the emergence of Poké Balls gradually shifted the balance.
With the invention of Poké Balls, humans gained the ability to capture Pokémon and form bonds with them as battle partners.
And so—
The first generation of Pokémon Trainers was born.
As time passed, Pokémon became a familiar and accepted part of life. Being a Trainer was no longer the only path.
There were breeders, researchers, coordinators, performers, rescue teams, sports teams...
Pokémon had already become deeply embedded in every aspect of human society.
Now, in an era of relative peace, Pokémon battles were no longer the sole focus of civilization.
Even the ways people raised and trained their Pokémon had diversified.
But no matter how those methods changed, one thing remained constant:
Strength.
Take actors, for instance—a profession seemingly unrelated to battle power.
For a film to earn a nomination for an international Oscar, every Pokémon featured in it needed to be at least Elite Four-level in strength. In fact, that was often a basic prerequisite just to be shortlisted.
Because in a world like this—
Pokémon were always at the center.
Those with only acting chops but no battle prowess, along with their weak Pokémon partners, were often mocked as pretty faces—all looks, no substance.
In some cases, because their Pokémon lacked the ability to perform intense battle scenes, directors would be forced to use CGI to fill the gaps.
And that kind of production? It would be roasted online as either trash-tier or god-tier bad.
This wasn't unique to actors—every profession was the same.
Trainers, of course, relied on Pokémon strength to make a living.
Even Pokémon firefighters had their own requirements—not just for the Trainer, but also for the Pokémon's type.
To join a firefighting squad, your team had to include at least one Pokémon with a type from the following four: Water, Rock, Ground, or Fire.
Water, Rock, and Ground-types were obvious choices—perfect for extinguishing flames.
As for Fire-types, their job was to charge into burning buildings and rescue civilians from danger.
Especially Pokémon with the [Flash Fire] ability—they'd be given priority when applying for firefighter positions.
Even job titles and career advancement across industries were tied to the strength of one's Pokémon.
If your team wasn't strong enough, your position could remain stagnant for years.
It was precisely because of this importance placed on strength that a new profession had emerged: the Pokémon Instructor.
And the role of these instructors was to help Pokémon stuck at a bottleneck break through their limits.
And wouldn't you know it—
Guo Yi's previous self had been exactly one of those instructors.
The problem?
As a Pokémon instructor, your own strength mattered—a lot.
After all, your job was to guide others in improving their Pokémon's power.
If your own team was weak, how were you supposed to teach anyone?
Guo Yi sighed and pulled a standard red-and-white Poké Ball from his belt. Through the transparent lens, he could see the Pokémon inside—and a wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Yellow body striped with black, two pairs of veined wings on its back, and a pair of needle-like stingers raised before its chest like twin lances.
No doubt about it.
The Pokémon his predecessor had owned was the infamous "Forest Bully"—Beedrill.
Sure, in the Pokémon Adventures manga, Giovanni had a Beedrill that pulled off some jaw-dropping feats.
But let's be real—given the choice, who wouldn't want something like Dragonite or Salamence instead?
Species didn't determine destiny, true—but breaking through a species' natural limits was no easy feat.
The canon made that much clear.
Besides Giovanni's beast of a Beedrill, how many others had ever managed to match legendary Pokémon blow for blow?
Reality wasn't a game.
In games, you just had to defeat other Pokémon to gain EXP and level up endlessly.
But in this world, a Pokémon's growth potential was practically set at birth.
Unless you encountered some extraordinary stroke of luck, breaking past those limits was near impossible.
As Guo Yi weighed his options—whether or not he should keep working as a Pokémon instructor—a mechanical voice suddenly rang out in his mind.
[Ding! Master Trainer System successfully bound!]
[Ding! Data Eye function activated!]
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, on receiving the Newcomer Gift Pack. Please recruit a qualified student to unlock it! (The higher the student's talent, the greater the reward.)]
"As expected!"
No proper transmigrator goes without a cheat system.
Letting out a breath of relief, Guo Yi immediately dove into checking out his new system.