Power is only a byproduct

The room fell quiet again after that.

Only the ceiling fan continued spinning overhead, pushing cool air through the laboratory in slow, steady waves.

Tinkatuff remained asleep on the couch, curled around its hammer without a care in the world. Every so often one of its ears twitched slightly before settling again.

I stared at it for a moment longer before finally looking back toward Flint.

“…So what exactly happens now?”

Flint rested his elbow against the counter.

“For starters,” he said, “you’re not going home anytime soon.”

I blinked once.

“…What?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

His answer came immediately.

Matter-of-fact.

Like he’d already made the decision hours ago.

I frowned slightly. “Dangerous because of the Ultra Beast thing?”

“In general,” Flint replied smoothly. “Until certain matters are settled, keeping you isolated is the smarter option.”

That… honestly sounded suspiciously vague.

But before I could question it further, he continued.

“Which means you’ll be transferring into Caelora Academy.”

I paused.

“…The Caelora Academy?”

Now THAT name I recognized.

Even though Pokémon stories always had some ridiculously prestigious school somewhere, that’s not the only reason. My brother, that’s where he is.

Flint nodded once.

“Lyric’s Regional Trainer Academy.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair as he spoke.

“Every major region in Koryn operates under its own government-funded Academy system. Smaller schools exist everywhere, obviously, but only one institution in each region receives official continental sponsorship.”

I listened quietly as he continued.

“Lyric has Caelora.”

“Valeria has the Argent Royal Institute.”

“Noctis has N.P.I.”

“Solara has Heaven’s Gate.”

“And Aetheris operates Zenith.”

The names alone sounded expensive.

Flint gestured lazily with one hand.

“They’re less like schools and more like regional powerhouses. Research centers, battle institutions—depends on the region.”

Makes sense honestly.

Valeria’s school sounding like a knight order wasn’t exactly shocking.

“Every year,” Flint continued, “the five academies participate in interregional evaluations.”

“Battle tournaments?”

“Partially.”

He shook his head.

“Battles are only one category.”

He began counting casually against the counter with his fingers.

“Survival exercises.”

“Research development.”

“Field operations.”

“Pokémon handling.”

“Combat efficiency.”

“Environmental adaptation.”

“Emergency response.”

“Even public influence.”

That was… significantly more intense than I expected.

“These rankings matter,” Flint said. “Funding changes depending on performance. Political influence shifts. Recruitment opportunities. Research rights.”

Ah.

So basically:

prestige equals power.

Makes sense.

“Where’s Caelora ranked?”

Flint was silent for about half a second too long.

“…Fourth.”

I stared at him.

“There’s only five schools.”

“Yes.”

“That’s awful.” I said bluntly.

“It used to be second.”

“That somehow makes it worse.”

Flint sighed through his nose.

“Lyric’s become overly dependent on infrastructure and standardized systems. The Academy produces excellent researchers and technically capable Trainers, but compared to the others…”

He shrugged.

“They’ve gotten comfortable.”

He scoffed, scratching his head, “That’s awful school is where I went, so I can’t really complain.”

Honestly?

That sounded exactly like something a prestigious modern academy would do, get comfortable.

I took a sip of water, watching the light shift across the lab’s polished counters.

“…When are the entrance exams for Caelora?”

If I was being thrown into something like this, I need time to prepare. Train properly. Get my body up to standard. Maybe even—

“The entrance examinations for Caelora Academy were held three weeks ago.”

I almost spit out my water.

“…Three weeks ago?!”

“Yes.”

“…So you’re telling me I missed it.”

Flint nodded once.

“Yeah, essentially.”

Essentially, yeah essentially you’re screwed, I mocked him in my mind.

Not that I cared deeply about the academy itself—

but this meant I was already behind something I hadn’t even agreed to yet.

I exhaled through my nose. “Great.”

Flint continued, almost casually.

“And even if you hadn’t missed it…”

He paused slightly, like he was deciding whether or not the next part was worth saying out loud.

“…Caelora’s acceptance rate is extremely low.”

I blinked.

“…How low are we talking?”

Flint leaned back against the counter.

“Out of several thousand applicants each cycle, fewer than one hundred are admitted.”

That number didn’t immediately register.

Then it did.

“…That’s not low,” I said slowly. “That’s basically a scam.”

“It’s competitive,” Flint corrected.

I stared at him.

He didn’t look like he was joking.

Which somehow made it worse.

So not only had I missed the entrance exam…

Even if I hadn’t missed it, I probably wouldn’t have gotten in anyway.

I had a better chance of finding 2 shinies with my eyes closed.

“…So what now?”

Flint watched me for a moment, as if measuring something I couldn’t see.

Then he spoke.

“I’ll evaluate you myself.”

I blinked.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“You can just do that?”

“I can do many things.”

That answer was somehow both impressive and deeply concerning.

I decided to frown.

Flint stood from his chair with a quiet stretch, one hand pressing briefly against the bandages in his waist.

For the first time since waking up, I noticed the slight stiffness in his movements.

Even with all the advanced medicine in this world, Kartana apparently didn’t play fair.

He walked toward the massive glass sliding doors overlooking the fields outside the lab.

The evening sun painted the grasslands gold beyond the glass.

Without turning around, Flint placed a hand against the door panel.

The glass slid open smoothly.

Cool air immediately drifted into the room.

“When you’re ready,” he said calmly, stepping outside, “I’ll be waiting.”

Then he disappeared from view.

I finished the glass of water in a few long sips and set it down in the sink, the ceramic clinking softly against the metal.

The lab was quieter now.

Too quiet, in a way that made everything feel slightly unreal again—like I was still waiting to wake up somewhere else.

My eyes drifted back to the couch.

Tinkatuff was still there.

Curled up in the same spot, hugging its hammer like it was a pillow made specifically for it. Its breathing rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm.

It didn’t look like something that had almost gotten me killed.

It looked… peaceful.

I walked over and sat down beside it.

The couch dipped slightly under my weight, leather creaking faintly as the cushions adjusted.

“…Hey uh,” I started.

Then stopped.

Right.

I paused, realizing something stupidly important.

I hadn’t even named it.

I scratched the side of my neck.

“Hey uh… little… guy?”

No response.

“…Girl?”

Still nothing.

I leaned a little closer.

What was it even?

I squinted at it like that would somehow give me an answer.

It didn’t.

The Tinkatuff just kept sleeping, completely unbothered, hammer still hugged tightly like a stuffed toy.

“Hey,” I said again, a little more insistently.

I tapped it lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey.”

Nothing.

It shifted slightly.

“…Hey!”

It turned away from me in its sleep.

Not even acknowledging me.

Something in me cracked a little.

“This little—”

I paused.

It didn’t even flinch.

“…WAKE UP TINKATUFF.”

The words came out louder than intended.

Immediately I reached forward and started lightly stretching its cheeks between my fingers.

“Hey, hey, hey—wake up, wake up, wake up.”

A low sound rumbled from it.

“Grrrr…”

“…Is that a growl?”

Before I could even finish the thought, its eyes snapped open.

Instantly alert.

Instantly furious.

It grabbed its hammer in one motion and—

I barely moved in time.

The swing passed right where my face had been half a second earlier.

I leaned back so hard I almost fell off the couch.

“Okay—okay—WAIT, I’m sorry!”

I raised both hands defensively.

“Relax, relax, it’s me, I’m not attacking you—this is literally a misunderstanding!”

It was still glaring at me, hammer raised like it was deciding whether I was worth a second swing.

I let out a slow breath.

“…Okay, listen.”

I pointed at it carefully.

“You’re small. You’re pink. You’re carrying a weapon that is objectively too large for your body.”

I gestured at myself.

“I am a child. Also small. Also pink-adjacent in the sense of ‘legally defenseless in this situation.’”

It blinked once.

Still angry.

I nodded seriously.

“So what I’m saying is—we are both victims of poor design choices.”

Silence.

The hammer lowered slightly.

Not much.

But enough.

I continued quickly, sensing a window.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up like that. That was… aggressive parenting behavior. That’s on me. I’ll do better.”

Another pause.

It tilted its head slightly, still suspicious.

I sighed.

“…Look. You saved my life.”

I leaned back a little, voice softening.

“And I kind of owe you for that. So… I’m not your enemy, alright?”

The Tinkatuff stared at me for a moment longer.

Then slowly, reluctantly, it lowered the hammer all the way.

I exhaled.

“Cool. Great. Progress.”

I sat there for a second, then gave a small awkward thumbs-up.

“…We’re good? We’re good.”

It huffed, crossing its arms and turning its head away like it was still offended on principle.

That… honestly felt fair.

I couldn’t help it.

A small laugh slipped out.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re intimidating. Very scary. Absolutely terrifying hammer goblin.”

It glanced back at me at that.

I raised both hands again.

“Compliment, by the way.”

A beat.

Then, slowly, it stopped tensing.

Not friendly.

Not warm.

But… no longer trying to kill me.

I nodded like I’d just negotiated peace between nations.

“Alright. We’re making progress.”

I stood up and stretched slightly, rolling my shoulders.

Then I looked toward the table where Flint had been earlier.

The Beast Ball was still there.

Quiet.

Heavy-looking even when still.

I picked it up.

Cold metal.

The surface almost felt wrong to hold—like it didn’t quite belong in normal space.

I exhaled once.

“…Return.”

The ball clicked.

It opened.

A thin distortion of light spilled out—like reality briefly folding in on itself.

The Tinkatuff gave a small surprised sound before being pulled into the beam.

A flash.

Then silence.

The Beast Ball snapped shut in my hand.

For a moment, I just stared at it.

No movement.

No sound.

Just the weight of it.

“…Yeah,” I muttered under my breath.

“This is definitely not normal Pokémon behavior.”

I turned my head toward the glass sliding doors.

Outside, the light was still there—golden, calm, waiting.

Flint had already said he’d be outside.

I took one last look at the Beast Ball.

Then slipped it into my pocket.

“…Guess I should stop keeping him waiting.”

And I started walking.