The room went still. A hundred first-year students sat in silence, and not one dared to even shift in their chair.
“One: If you arrive after I’ve started, you don’t come in. Two: Don’t interrupt me. I take questions at the end. Three: Never bring food into my classroom.”
Her eyes scanned the room slowly. No need to raise her voice—her presence did all the talking.
I sat a little straighter in my seat. She wasn’t just strict—she had command. And if that wasn’t enough to keep me in line, the mention of food definitely hit a nerve.
No snacks? That was going to be a problem. My stomach let out a quiet protest, already regretting the breakfast I abandoned to make it on time.
Instructor Knight moved to the center of the room. “Now,” she continued, “as students of this academy, you are subject to our internal ranking system. Please check your Pokédex. I’ve just unlocked the Profile option.”
The sound of a hundred devices activating at once filled the room—soft chimes, beeps, flickers of holographic screens.
I tapped my own Pokédex. A new icon blinked into place, and when I opened it, a screen popped up:
*
Student ID: #202501004
Name: Gabriel Santos
Grade: First Year
Ranking: Unranked
Active Courses:
- Pokémon Training 101: 5 pts
- Pokémon Battling 101: 0 pts
- Pokémon Care 101: 0 pts
- Physical Conditioning 101: 0 pts
Team Members: None
*
Points. Rankings. It was all starting to feel like a game with a leaderboard—and I was dead last.
“For attending this class,” Knight said, “you’ve earned your first five points. At the end of each week, your total will determine your rank among your peers. Your profile will update in real time as you earn more.”
She paused. “And yes—there are other ways to earn points. And no—I won’t tell you what they are. You’ll find out soon enough.”
A low murmur of curiosity ran through the room. I leaned back slightly, thinking.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
So, there are hidden mechanics to the system. That means opportunity. And risk. If I want to stand out—not just as a legacy, but on my own—I’ll need to figure those out fast.
“Skipping class,” she continued, “means forfeiting those points. In addition, teachers are permitted to deduct points for poor behavior. I suggest you all remember my rules, unless you’d like to start the year in the negatives.”
I swallowed hard.
So, definitely no snacks.
She turned, folding her arms behind her back.
“Now, let’s begin the actual lesson. Some of you are probably wondering what this class is about. Why it matters. I’ll tell you.”
Her voice took on a quiet intensity, and despite myself, I leaned in.
“Pokémon Training 101 is the most important course you’ll take during your time here. Why? Because the knowledge gained in this class applies to every kind of trainer—battler, breeder, researcher, even ranger. If you master this foundation, you’ll be ready for anything.”
Her eyes scanned the room again, meeting the gaze of several students before finally settling forward.
“Let me ask you this: what is the most important knowledge a trainer can have?”
A long silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of the ventilation system.
Then, a hand rose near the front—a white-haired girl with a nervous posture.
“Yes?” Knight called.
“W-we need to know… about different Pokémon types?” she offered hesitantly.
Knight gave a single nod. “Important, but not the answer I’m looking for.”
More hands went up.
“A good trainer needs to know training techniques,” said one boy.
“You need to understand your Pokémon,” added a girl near the back.
“All valid,” Knight replied. “But still wrong.”
She clasped her hands behind her back.
“Why do you want to become trainers?” she asked, changing direction. “Think carefully.”
The room stilled again. I could almost hear the shifting thoughts in the silence.
Why do I want this? For me, it was about strength. About freedom. About traveling the world, seeing places I’ve only heard about in stories.
But none of that is possible without Pokémon.
They’re not just part of the journey—they are the journey. The battles, the companionship, the exploration. Our world runs on those bonds.
And suddenly, it clicks.
I raised my hand.
Instructor Knight called on me. “Mr. Santos. Your answer?”
I swallowed, suddenly aware of the room watching me.
“I think…” I began, voice steady, “Pokémon are essential to our lives—not just for trainers, but for everyone. Society wouldn’t function without them. So, I think the most important knowledge is understanding the relationship between humans and Pokémon. The connection we share.”
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—she smiled.
It was brief. Subtle. But definitely a smile.
“Good answer,” she said. “In fact, that’s the heart of what we’ll explore in this course. Our society is built on collaboration between humans and Pokémon. It’s not about battles or fame—not entirely. Trainers are the bridge between two worlds. And that connection—that is what matters.”
The class seemed to exhale at once. A few students scribbled notes. Others just sat there, thoughtful.
Knight stepped forward, her expression returning to its sharp, composed neutrality.
“That’s why we begin with history—not to bore you, but to teach you why things are the way they are. Why you’re here. How the roles of trainer and Pokémon evolved together.”
She paused at the edge of the platform.
“History, after all,” she said, “isn’t just the past. It’s the foundation of the future.”