Morning in Fenshaw started early—sunlight streaming in through reinforced dorm windows, the faint buzz of electric-type Pokémon warming up in the trainer yards, and the steady hum of civilization blending with birdsong and commerce.
Jaxon stretched, rolled off the thin capsule mattress, and groaned. "Back's already regretting this journey."
Ralts, curled at the foot of the bunk, yawned and gave him a bleary-eyed look. She squeaked softly before hopping down to follow him.
He rubbed his face, slipped on his boots, and muttered, "Let's start the day with some bureaucracy, huh?"
[XxX]
The first stop was the local bank kiosk. Not even a full branch—just a security-walled cubicle run by a well-dressed man with a Machoke bouncer nearby.
Opening a Trainer Account was surprisingly simple. Just his ID, Trainer Card, and a retinal scan. This was the National Bank of Pokémon—one of the most influential commerce guilds in the world. These banks operated by facilitating the movement of massive amounts of Poké Dollars, data, and other currencies. Founded by old banking families and supported by the League, they had a full financial monopoly for the last hundred years.
There were rumors. Corruption, backdoor deals, blackmailed tellers, and some branches aiding criminal organizations under the guise of neutrality. But there were good ones too—ones that still believed in service, fairness, and trust.
Jaxon had exactly 500,000 Poké Dollars in starting funds, transferred through some digital mechanism tied to his Trainer registration. Enough to live off of for a couple of weeks. Not enough to thrive.
Which is such bullshit because 500k is enough to get a keep house in a redneck town with girls that wear shorts so low that you got to ask yourself. Why bother wearing pants?
Well, let's see my loan options.
The banker offered him a starting loan: 6 million Poké Dollars.
"Most new trainers take one, especially if you plan on traveling. Interest is locked at 3.5%. Payments scale based on badge progress. However, there is a way to qualify for better terms."
Jaxon blinked dumbly. A 6 million starter loan? That 42k US! "You're telling me this is... normal?"
The banker smiled thinly. "Welcome to the League economy."
Jaxon raised an eyebrow. "And the better terms?" There is no way a loan of 6 million Poké is worth all the trouble.
"Our Battle Ladder. Defeat other applicants who've also taken loans. The more you win, the higher your loan cap and the lower your interest rate. You build credit with victories. It's also a good way to get noticed by sponsors."
"Brutal," Jaxon muttered.
"Efficient," the banker replied, analyzing the boy in front of him. He has been a bank teller for the NBP for years, and most Trainers that come here are either from poor families with big dreams or overconfident rich brats. The banker has seen them all, but the one in front of him was different. Of course, a background check was mandatory for anyone registering with the League Gym circuit.
Plus, Mr. Mercer has a Ralts, a Pokémon, difficult to obtain and to fully relax around others at such a young age.
Jaxon Ryder Mercer, at the age of five, he earned top rankings on Professor Oak's pre-assessment tests and joined Blue Academy in Unova to where he graduated early.
He has high marks in all physical tests, exceptional leadership skills, and is very good with his hands or anything that can count as a weapon. Not only that, Mr. Jaxon has taken himself to online schools for extra study.
Many, if not all, young trainers, even the rich ones, would prepare for such a thing. The cost was too much for anyone who didn't mean you would get a Pokémon of your choosing. The total exceeds 1 million dollars.
This earned him a place in the 'Rising Stars', a platform for newbie trainers with great potential around the world. Mr. Jaxon came in first place, which made him eligible to obtain anymore Pokémon he wants without a cost. According to records, he hasn't picked up his Pokémon yet.
The banker wondered why. Why hadn't this promising Trainer been scouted yet? No clue, but hey, more for him and his family. He made a note to have his granddaughter be his financial manager if he beat the Rookie Ladder. Lilith would love him.
Ten rounds. Most newbies didn't make it past four.
While the banker was making smart moves, the actual reason was quite simple.
Ever seen Dragon Ball Z? Remember Chi-Chi, the fine Asian looking woman that anime made way worse than she needs to be? Well, picture her mixed with Bulma and 18 turn up to 11.
The need to avoid his mother's anger forced Old Jaxon to do all that.
Jaxon considered, then nodded. "Elise and I take anything you have, banker dude."
The banker processed a 1,000,000 Poké Dollar advance and handed him a digital slip with a time and location: Fenshaw Bank Arena, 3 PM.
The arena felt more like a proving ground. Concrete scorched from fire attacks, cracked where earth-types hit hard. Energy barriers hummed quietly. Auto-ref drones hovered overhead.
The Fenshaw Bank Arena didn't look like much from the outside—just reinforced fencing, a scorched concrete lot, and a row of half-lit digital billboards broadcasting sponsor ads and old match clips. But inside? The tension was electric. Trainers paced. Fans and League officials leaned over guard rails. Drone-cams floated overhead, broadcasting matches live to regional feeds.
"Trainer Jaxon Ryder Mercer. Round One," the system called out.
Jaxon exhaled, stepped into the barrier-guarded arena, and immediately felt dozens of eyes fixate on him. Murmurs spread. New face. Rookie. Long odds.
His opponent was already waiting at the far end. Broad-shouldered, arms crossed, wearing a sleeveless vest and a belt that clinked with heavy Poké Balls. Gaius. Veteran of the rookie grinder tier.
"You look soft," Gaius called out, voice gravel. "Hope you packed a Resurrection Stone."
Jaxon snorted, grabbing his own Poké Ball. "Hope you packed dental insurance."
Whistles from the crowd.
"Battle starts!"
"Makuhita! Crush this clown!"
A stubby, barrel-chested Fighting-type burst onto the field, slamming its fists together. Its muscles flexed beneath pale skin, and the moment it landed, it let out a snorting bellow.
"It's time to brawl, Elise!" Jaxon shouted.
A soft pulse of blue-white light spiraled from his Poké Ball. Elise materialized gracefully, hovering just an inch off the ground. Her eyes narrowed the second she saw her opponent.
"Fake Out!"
Makuhita exploded off the ground. Dust blasted in every direction. The speed was unreal. It was on Elise in a blink—its palm slamming into her face with a sickening crack.
Elise reeled. The crowd winced.
Jaxon was amazed—Makuhita had no business moving that fast. "Shake it off. And now deck that fat one in the jaw and use Confusion to slam it into the ground!"
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the audience.
The Ralts moved with speeds not fitting its species. Elise's dainty fist cocked back—and slammed forward.
Crack!
Makuhita's eyes went wide. It stumbled, a few teeth flying into the dirt. Before it could recover, a burst of psychic energy erupted from Elise's body, glowing with a pale fury. The crowd gaped as the Psychic/Fairy type proceeded to slam the Fighting-type over and over, each psychic impact echoing like thunder across the arena.
Makuhita cried out in pain, its body lifted and whipped around like a ragdoll by invisible hands. Dust rose in choking plumes with every slam. The barrier shimmered with pressure as the audience leaned forward, enthralled by the display.
"Again!" Jaxon roared.
Makuhita tried to rise, dazed and broken. Elise's eyes gleamed. A final Confusion lashed out, sending the poor Pokémon hurtling backward into the arena wall. It hit with a dull thud and collapsed into unconsciousness.
KO.
Silence, then thunderous applause. Someone in the back whistled long and loud. Bets changed hands. Even a few older trainers leaned in, murmuring.
Jaxon didn't celebrate. He walked toward Elise, crouched, and met her eyes.
"You good?"
She nodded, trembling. He gave her a steadying pat on the shoulder.
"Let's make it to the top."
Round Two: Neera — Numel
The crowd had grown thicker. People were taking notice. Jaxon stepped back into the ring with a calm face and wild heart.
"Numel, burn them down!" Neera shouted.
The fire-type lumbered out, heatwaves pulsing off its back.
"Elise, keep your distance. Kite it."
Elise floated high and wide, circling like a predator. Numel roared and spat a small fireball her way—Flame Burst.
"Side roll. Then pulse!"
Elise spun out of the way, skirt trailing through the smoke, and hit back with a Confusion that sent the Numel rocking.
"Again!"
She was faster this time. Sharper. Her psychic aura coiled tight before exploding outward. Numel tried to brace, but the second blast knocked it onto its side.
The fire-type let out a groan and didn't get back up.
The crowd cheered louder this time.
Round three was over because of a bad type match-up. Also, because it was so sad.
Round Five: Caleb — Timburr
"Hit it with everything you've got, Timburr!" Caleb barked.
The brawler-type Pokémon charged in with its concrete beam raised like a warhammer.
"Elise, Misty Terrain—now!"
The battlefield shimmered as pale mist spilled out, lowering visibility and dampening incoming status effects. Timburr's charge slowed, confused by the soft veil.
"Lift it! Telekinesis!"
Timburr's body lurched, suspended in mid-air. Its feet kicked wildly as it tried to reach the ground.
"Mean Look!" Jaxon ordered. He knew it was pointless since this was one-on-one, but the girl needed to practice her moves.
Elise's eyes glowed an eerie purple, and Timburr froze. It was trapped.
"Drop him and knock him out."
The crowd gasped as Timburr plummeted from the air, slamming headfirst into the arena floor by a final Confusion.
KO.
Round Six: Mel — Stunky
The arena stank even before the fight began. Elise flinched as the Stunky sprayed the air with thick poison gas.
"Hold steady, Elise. Flash!"
A second burst of light blinded the Stunky momentarily.
"Clear the air. Mystical Fire!"
A violet flame spiraled from Elise's palms, burning through the gas and catching Stunky in the flank. The poison-type screeched.
"Again! Drive it back!"
Another burst of flame swept across the field, forcing Stunky to retreat.
"Now—Confusion!"
Stunky's legs buckled as Elise's psychic blast hit squarely right below it. The shockwave shoots the fragmented rock upward,s multiple shards hitting the Dark/Poison type. It collapsed in a daze, coughing up purple smoke.
"Six wins in a row!" one of the announcers shouted. "And not a single injury on the Ralts!"
The crowd was chanting now. "Elise! Elise!"
Round Seven: Lana — Ducklett
"Take to the skies!" Lana yelled.
Ducklett flapped high, wind swirling around it.
"Elise, Knock Off when it swoops!"
As Ducklett dived, Elise ducked under the gust and spun—her palm glowing with dark energy. The blow struck Ducklett's wing, causing it to crash.
"Mystical Fire, point-blank!"
The crowd erupted in surprise as Elise launched a concentrated plume of fire that engulfed Ducklett's chest.
It tried to rise—then dropped like a rock.
"Another clean win!" the announcer roared.
Jaxon crossed his arms, nodding.
"Elise," he said, "we're just getting started."
Round Eight: Theo — Baltoy
Theo didn't say a word as he released his Pokémon. The Baltoy emerged, spinning in the air with eerie silence. Psychic versus Psychic.
"Don't go brute force," Jaxon murmured. "Outthink it."
"Elise, Misty Terrain!"
The battlefield bloomed with soft pink mist, making every movement vague and flowing. Baltoy paused in mid-spin, recalibrating.
"Now, Confuse Ray!"
A pulse of distorted light shimmered from Elise's eyes. Baltoy spun erratically, lurching as it tried to orient.
"Telekinesis, then Knock Off!"
Baltoy was lifted, limbs flailing as Elise floated in.
Her hand shimmered again—ghostly and sharp. She slammed Baltoy from the air, spinning it sideways with a heavy hit.
"Follow with Mystical Fire!"
The flames coiled in a graceful spiral, cutting through the fog like a comet. Baltoy took the hit directly, crashed to the ground, and didn't rise again.
"Eight wins," someone in the crowd breathed. "Is it me, or is that thing getting more vivacious?"
Round Nine: Trish — Pancham
Trish cracked her knuckles as she stepped into the light. "Crush her, Pancham."
The Fighting-type growled, dragging its foot through the ground before charging in with a brutal Arm Thrust.
"Elise, Misty Terrain again!"
The mist surged up, and Pancham struck wide, missing its mark.
"Growl!"
Elise let out a melodic chime that somehow sapped the tension in Pancham's muscles. Its attack slowed.
"Disable!"
A flash of energy sealed Pancham's Arm Thrust away.
"Now use Knock Off!"
Elise ducked in, her palm slamming into Pancham's side with crackling force. It reeled.
"Confusion!"
The Psychic blast launched Pancham into the air like a cannonball before it hit the ground hard, groaning.
It didn't get up.
Final Round: Juno — Dreepy
The crowd was in a frenzy. Fans climbed barricades, standing on railings and shoulders, screaming Jaxon's name. Lights flashed from drone-cams and holo-displays. The energy inside Fenshaw Arena could've powered a power plant.
Jaxon bounced on his heels, adjusting his hoodie as Elise floated beside him, focused but calm.
From the other end of the arena walked out Juno.
She looked to be about Jaxon's age—slender, tall, with violet-highlighted black hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her outfit was sleek: midnight leggings, a sleeveless crop top with a stylized ghost insignia over the heart, and gloves that crackled faintly with tech-imbedded patterns. Sharp eyeliner. Serious eyes.
"Oh great," Jaxon muttered. "She's hot. I'm doomed. Those melons are divine."
Juno raised an eyebrow. "Did you just say that out loud?"
He grinned, unrepentant. "Did I? Damn. Must've slipped out between all the confidence and charm. Hey I'm Jaxon and your hot wanna spend the night together?"
"You're a pervert."
"Only on Tuesdays. And, uh… apparently today."
The crowd laughed. Juno rolled her eyes. "Dreepy, let's shut him up."
She tossed her Poké Ball high.
From the flash emerged a blur of ghostly green and blue—Dreepy phased into view like a flickering flame, hovering erratically, eyes glowing.
"Elise," Jaxon said, voice low but steady, "Its time to brawl!"
The arena lights dimmed. The stadium hushed, then exploded again as the signal rang:
"Battle Start!"
Juno didn't hesitate. "Dreepy—Dragon Breath!"
The ghost-dragon launched a stream of emerald flame.
Elise didn't flinch.
The breath attack washed over her harmlessly. The crowd gasped. A wave of silence fell as realization dawned.
"Dragon Breath has no effect," the auto-referee chimed. "Target type: Fairy."
Jaxon smirked, arms crossed. "Gotta read the typing chart, sweetheart."
Juno grit her teeth. "Fine. Switch it up—Shadow Ball!"
"Flash!" Jaxon countered.
A blinding burst of light exploded from Elise's body just as the Shadow Ball formed. Dreepy's aim swerved wide, the ball crashing into a side barrier.
"Misty Terrain!"
Pink mist rolled across the battlefield. The crowd's noise dulled under its muffling haze.
"Confuse Ray!"
Elise's eyes shone. A ripple of confusing, spiraling light struck Dreepy. It staggered midair, veering left and right.
"Don't stop! Knock Off!"
Elise surged forward. Her hand shimmered with dark energy, and she delivered a sharp strike to Dreepy's center mass. The impact sent the ghost-type spinning like a kicked can.
"Dash in baby!!"
She vanished.
"Dreepy, use—!"
Too late.
Elise reappeared above. Hands raised.
"Confusion!"
The psychic blast hit Dreepy directly. It was flung backward, crashing into the far wall of the arena.
KO.
The crowd went ballistic.
Lights strobed. Names flashed. Confetti burst.
The referee drone descended.
VICTORY: JAXON MERCER.
Elise floated back into his arms, worn but proud.
"You crushed it," he whispered, voice half-laugh, half-breath.
As the roar of the crowd began to fade, Jaxon made his way back through the arena corridors, Elise resting comfortably in his arms. The excitement buzzed behind him, but his eyes were set forward.
The teller from earlier—same tidy suit, same unreadable expression—stood waiting at the check-in desk beneath a League banner.
"You made quite the impression," the banker said, holding out a tablet for Jaxon to scan.
"Didn't think I'd go ten for ten, huh?"
"On the contrary," the teller replied smoothly. "I suspected you might. Which is why your record has already triggered a provisional credit reevaluation and sponsor interest notifications. Congratulations, Trainer Mercer. Rookie II, preferred rate, and a lot of eyes on you."
Jaxon raised an eyebrow. "How much interest are we talking?"
"Both kinds," the man said with a small smile.
Jaxon chuckled. "Guess that means I'm expensive now."
The teller leaned in slightly. "And worth every Poké Dollar, I'd wager. Your original loan of six million has now been raised to three hundred million, with an adjusted interest rate of 1.2%. You've entered a new bracket, Mr. Mercer. This is where real trainers start to feel the heat—and where the real investors start to look."
Jaxon blinked.
Seriously, just how fucking expensive it's to be a Trainer?