"Eh?"
Alex shuddered as an eerie gaze prickled his neck, feeling as if he'd been marked by a Ghost-type Pokémon's piercing gaze.
"What's that?"
Glancing back, Alex found Caterpie resting peacefully in its nest, likely dozed off—no visible signs of disturbance.
"Strange..."
Alex's face clouded with bewilderment as he scanned the warehouse quarters and outer lounge, yet detected no anomalies.
Can't blame Alex for being jumpy—given the Pokémon world's eerie assimilation of urban legends from her past life: the Hasshuku Gardevoir & Hatterene specters, subway-dwelling Gothitelle phantoms, Rikuchi Jynx apparitions, Shadow the Spoon Killer Slash, and the Hitodog Poochyena hybrids.
Each more bone-chilling than the last.
These cases predominantly originate from certain Pokémon manifesting uncanny characteristics.
Primarily Ghost and Psychic-types—their innate traits skew toward prank-prone dispositions with a penchant for psychological torment,Hence reports of Ghost and Psychic-types infiltrating urban residences to materialize paranormal phenomena—terrified residents included—are precisely why such horror tales thrive.
In actual cases, the prank-prone Pokémon are predominantly from the Gastly and Misdreavus lines, their antics typically posing little real threat.
Cases escalate with entities like Gothita luring children toward spectral rifts and Drifloon's ominous invitations to 'play in the clouds'—now those raise legitimate red flags.
Then there's Hypno and certain Psychic-types with their...hypnosis-centric tactics—" Alex cleared her throat, "—best left unexamined in polite company.
Numerous documented cases—from Shuppet's soul-draining shadows to Litwick's life-force siphon explicitly stated in Pokédex entries—explain why many civilians and Trainers still maintain a wary distance, if not outright hostility, toward Ghost and Psychic-types.
"Absolutely bone-chilling."
Comparatively speaking, the Dark-type Pokémon—despite their ominous designation—prove far more manageable when their mischief boils down to harmless pranks satiating their type-based impulses.
"Mm, probably not."
After a brief pause, Alex shifted her gaze away.
Initially, he had suspected that a Pokémon might have sneaked into his home.
After all, despite cities and towns enforcing wild Pokémon management regulations—where authorities strictly prohibit hazardous species from operating under their watch—those with uncanny abilities still circumvent protocols to infiltrate populated areas.
Yet Caterpie—whose sensory perception far surpasses his own—remained unfazed. Perhaps he was overreacting after all.
"Must be overworking lately. Need to crash hard after wrapping this up."
Alex sighed and shook her head slightly.
He's still gotta keep prepping the essentials for wilderness training.
Wilderness training isn't some casual jaunt or camping trip—you can't just head out at dawn and waltz back by dusk. The presence of wild Pokémon, especially coordinated packs, transforms these zones into lethal threat-level territories.
Alex has mapped out a two-day wilderness survival drill with Caterpie at pre-selected coordinates—hence every piece of gear must be locked in with zero margin for error.
This is life-or-death.
Alex rummaged through the home warehouse, unearthing supplies like a sturdy tent, lightweight Trainer-grade protective gear, and a brand-new backpack—though the backpack proved redundant. The system had granted Alex an item-storage space (non-living objects only) with modest capacity yet perfectly serviceable.
Maintaining swift mobility remains a wilderness Trainer's non-negotiable priority.
Afterwards, Alex headed to the department store with Caterpie.
They hit up a Pokémon supply store for Repel spray to secure their campsite against wild encounters, then swung by an outfitter for a fire-starting kit, sleeping bag, and multi-tool—all calibrated to optimize Alex's field survivability.
Canned goods, bottled water, Pokémon food, and Pokéblocks were prepped and ready to roll from the get-go.
Alex also grabbed an easy-access waist pack stocked with Potions and status-healing Berries.
Rock-solid security.
Security comes at a price—a noticeably lighter wallet.
"The agony... the sheer agony."
Wincing, Alex stowed the slimmed-down wallet before locking eyes with Caterpie, voice brimming with unshakable conviction.
All those move drills and physical conditioning were for actual battles—we're gonna dominate those wild Pokémon hotspots this time!
"Mee!"
Caterpie—having been itching for action for some time—bobbed with glee, its silk-speckled body practically vibrating in sync with Alex's battle fervor.
Dragon Ascent on fellow Caterpie? Been chomping at the bit to unleash that forbidden move, huh?
Just imagining it—slamming a DRAGON ASCENT onto a swarm of Caterpie still spamming String Shot and Tackle, farming EXP off their Metapod siblings and even Butterfree... Caterpie's antennae quivered, high on power-leveling euphoria.
"Save the daydreaming for later. We're leaving now."
Alex gave Caterpie's tail a nudge, pulled out a Poké Ball, and fired a red beam to recall the wriggling green larva before boarding the shuttle bound for the outskirts.
It's a fairly substantial journey—the shuttle ride clocks in at nearly an hour.
During the ride, Alex scrolled through her phone, reviewing intel on their destination—Twist Mountain—the site of this wilderness training drill.
Twist Mountain—a premier tourist destination in the Unova region.
The mountain's sheer peaks pierce the clouds. Legends claim the Legendary Pokémon Regigigas once roosted atop its summit in antiquity—such that the upper slopes now sustain permafrost impervious to solar rays, with cold severity rivaling true glacial ranges...
Twist Mountain thrives with rich biodiversity and spectacular natural vistas—its landscapes radiate a surreal beauty that defies earthly logic.
While Twist Mountain has been gradually transformed into a secure tourist zone through the Pokémon League's technological development, substantial portions of the area still lie beyond the Unova League's full operational control—with wild sectors persistently resisting human governance.
The region teems with wild Pokémon—including formidable specimens that even seasoned Trainers find challenging—prompting the League to cordon off zones deemed too perilous for civilian access.
However, areas with lower-tier wild Pokémon have become popular grinding spots for Trainers honing their skills.
The Unova League has progressively opened designated zones in response to Trainer demand, permitting registered teams to venture a set distance into the interior for field training—contingency protocols like emergency beacons linking to patrol units ensure safety. Most Trainers exercise due caution, resulting in no major casualties reported within Twist Mountain's accessible sectors to date.
Alex's destination this time was precisely these zones populated by moderate-threat wild Pokémon.
He and Caterpie planned to prove their mettle in these areas, immersing themselves in real combat scenarios to test the fruits of their rigorous training.
"Who knows—we might even get lucky and snag some loot."
Pressed against the shuttle's window, Alex's mind buzzed with schemes and contingencies.
Alex had it all mapped out.
Once we arrive, we'll set up camp straddling the Red Zone and Green Zone boundaries—assess each skirmish, engage if winnable, pull back if outmatched.
The spot he'd chosen, though frequented by wild Pokémon, hosted exclusively low-threat species—perfect for Caterpie to grind battle experience with minimal risk.
All he has to do is station himself in the Green Zone, calling the shots from the safety of certified League terrain.
Plus, Alex's own hardcore training regimen? Dude's a freaking beast.
Alex couldn't tell if it was placebo or not, but since the system's awakening, his daily workouts were yielding compounding physical gains that defied conventional biological limits.
At the very least, he's now completely unfazed by Caterpie's String Shot attacks.
Silk threads capable of effortlessly cocooning a full-grown adult were merely sturdy ropes Alex could snap with some exertion.
Alex still vividly recalls the other day when he tore through the non-electrified web Caterpie had spun as a power grid prototype—the bug Pokémon's look of utter devastation, like it wanted to headbutt a boulder to oblivion, remains seared in his memory.
Alex is preparing to start another livestream as Caterpie engages in actual combat.
As for the livestream gear from that time... that's the least of his worries.
It's common knowledge that the primary bottleneck constraining wilderness livestreaming development remains the broadcast-grade equipment required for field operations.
The crux of the issue lies in standard livestream kits—bulky, unwieldy systems ill-suited for dynamic battles, able to capture only fragmented static shots at best.
For Trainers conducting field expeditions, hauling such a bulky livestream rig through zones teeming with wild Pokémon isn't just about delivering subpar footage—it's a lethal liability, hampering their positioning and focus to suicidal degrees.
Herein lies the paradox: Pokémon-centric content reigns as the world's most sought-after livestream category, with Trainers' wilderness expeditions captivating audiences across demographics. These broadcasts hold particular resonance for viewers whose aspirations to become Trainers remain unfulfilled due to socioeconomic constraints, aptitude limitations, or other impassable barriers.
Where demand exists, a market emerges. Silph Co.—the legendary creators of the Master Ball—has engineered specialized livestream drones to fill this niche, equipped with cutting-edge optics and AI tracking systems that autonomously follow Trainer-Pokémon combat sequences.
The only flaw is that it's prohibitively expensive.
Moreover, the target demographic for this product line remains oddly specific.
Typically, lower-tier Trainers have neither the means nor inclination to venture into the wilds for livestreaming.
For your average streamers, wandering the wilderness is nothing short of a suicidal stunt.
Elite-tier Trainers capable of freely roaming the wilderness are unlikely to willingly broadcast their field training regimens for public consumption—their combat methodologies and resource-rich grinding spots remain fiercely guarded secrets.
Thus the market remains limited to veteran Trainers moonlighting as professional streamers—the sole demographic capable of justifying investment in such specialized livestream drones.
so much so that the originally exorbitant price has dropped significantly. Otherwise, Alex would never have splurged on this gadget.
"Risk my neck? This is the damn job I signed up for!"— Alex's declaration when he snagged the livestream drone during a flash sale.
To this day, Alex still winces at the sight of that livestream drone purchase receipt, phantom pains shooting through his wallet region with every glance.
Whatever—Caterpie's got this.
Today, this livestream drone finally gets its time to shine.
Once he hits the training grounds, fires up the stream, and triggers wild encounters—the cash flow's gonna skyrocket.
A solo Caterpie wild encounter grind stream? The entertainment value is nuclear-grade.
"Hmm, better hope no viewers are deranged enough to actually copy my strategy—bringing a legit Caterpie into the wilderness to farm wild encounters..."
Alex offered a silent prayer that his livestream wouldn't spark any dangerous copycat behavior among viewers.
Then, Alex edited a message to promote his livestream—[Caterpie Has Its Spring: Solo Brutal Wild Training at Twist Mountain—Authentic Action Guaranteed!]
...
Kanto Region Cerulean City.
"Ping!"
Misty picked up her phone, her eyes narrowing at the screen displaying the streamer's live preview. "Why's this tagged as wilderness training?" she muttered, eyebrows furrowed.
As the Gym Leader of Cerulean City in the Kanto region—an Elite Trainer and public figure of global renown—Misty naturally found herself intrigued by Alex, a streamer who had swept through her entire team using sleep tactics with startling ease.
After all, this is the Trainer Red himself has his eye on.
Not only Misty, but elite trainers across Kanto and Johto have checked out Alex's streams—prompted by Red's uncharacteristic show of interest.
This is Red's influence—what you'd call Alex's biggest traffic boost to date, and likely unbeatable even in the foreseeable future.
Misty's logic aligns with Red's: in a world where trainers must grind through hands-on experience to grasp advanced battle theory, her suffocating online matches against Alex left no doubt—this kid's skills far surpassed her own.
At minimum, high-tier Elite Four level—that's Misty's assessment after cross-referencing his prowess against her own.
As for her crushing defeat, Misty bowed out with unshakable conviction—the loss absolute, the victor undeniable.
"Got it. Eagerly awaiting your stream."
With a curious tilt of her head, Misty tapped the 'Notify Me' button on Alex's stream preview. Meanwhile, in their elite Trainer group chat, she casually pasted the link alongside a popcorn emoji.
CeruleanMermaid: "Guys, check this out—that Unova streamer's going live with wilderness training!"
Red: "...I saw it too."
MsKogepan_SoloStan: "Holy Arceus—Red actually spoke!"
ViridianChild: "Red isn't mute—obviously can talk..."
DragonAcolyte: "That streamer's the kid Red's been eyeing—actually willing to stream a grueling wild grind? Low-key intriguing."
MsKogepan_SoloStan: "That's the trainer who sleep-clause swept one of Misty's teams last night—LMAO, a perfect shutout!"
CeruleanMermaid:"?"
CeruleanMermaid:"Listen here, punk—better pray I don't spot you in Cerulean City again."
AquaticVirtuoso: "The Unova region?"
Devon Corp.—Your Premier Partner for Rare Gemstone Procurement: "Steven! This isn't time to slack off—your paperwork backlog's reaching Mt. Chimney levels!"
AquaticVirtuoso: "Even buried in work, I must witness the streamer deemed worthy by Red."