NOVEL FROG CH_6.1 (15)
Rattata's paws tapped swiftly on the buttons, her movements a blur of speed and precision. The mechanical dummies, linked to each button, responded with subtle shifts and jerks. The machine beeped rhythmically, adjusting the dummies' speed at random intervals. Each beep prompted Rattata to react quickly, her small frame darting from one button to the next, preventing the dummies from reaching the end of their track.
Over the past week, the wave of constant battles they endured had pushed Rattata further. Her growth was evident in her sharpened movements and refined instincts.
Caelan sat cross-legged nearby, notebook balanced on one knee, his pen hovering just above the page. He had written a few lines but struggled to capture the essence of what had been swirling in his mind since their battle with Liam.
Rattata's recent growth in battle hadn't just challenged his understanding of moves—it had shaken the entire framework he had relied on for training.
There were just too many conflicting ideas about what truly made a Pokémon strong. The Trainer Association, the League, the Battle Club—all had their own systems, but none of them seemed to grasp the deeper truth.
They were all wrong. Or maybe they were all right, in different ways. Either way, it was clear: no one fully understood the real nature of a Pokémon's power.
It was an arrogant thought, but it wasn't one without any basis.
The Trainer Association touted terms like Class Level to gauge a Pokemon's strength, but on closer inspection, they were simply parameters the association personally used. The only reason they gave them out to new trainers was to make themselves seem more credible.
Their primary appeal laid not in Pokémon scans but in teaching specific moves.
The league, unsurprisingly, seemed to follow the same principles as the Trainer Association. In the past the title of 'Class Level' was instead 'Category' so that the league could announce warnings that the public would take seriously. A Dragonite flying overhead, for example, would set off an alarm stating there was a 'Category 5+' Pokemon inbound.
Their system, meant for a time of war, prioritized identifying significant threats over precise measurements.
Meanwhile, the Battle Club used entirely different parameters that focused solely on a Pokemon's statistics in comparison with other Pokemon of the same species and level. Their system was based more in reality rather than esoteric terms like Elemental Quality or Type.
If the trainer didn't already know what Type their Pokemon was, they really didn't need to be in the Battle Club in the first place.
And of course, there were those like that mysterious old man, offering cryptic insights while dismissing established theories.
None of these systems fully captured what Caelan observed. Each offered a fragment of truth, but none understood the whole.
It was… sort of obvious, now that he thought about it. When one considered the many villains seeking to unlock a Pokemon's 'true potential,' it was clear that no one fully grasped the source of their strength.
Thus, Caelan decided to develop his own theory, blending elements from existing systems, Earth knowledge, and personal observations.
A low hum escaped his throat as his pen finally touched the page.
A sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body, he wrote in neat, deliberate script. When fully mastered, the mind allows you to use the body's strength to its fullest potential. When perfectly trained, the body nurtures the mind to operate at peak performance. Together, they enhance one's Aura—the reflection of the soul. This is Level: a measurement of a Pokémon's efficiency in using their Aura.
He glanced at Rattata, her form a blur as she darted from button to button. Her movements were swift—almost faster than his eyes could track—and yet precise, deliberate. Each action seemed instinctual yet refined.
He continued writing, the pen scratching across the paper. How does evolution factor in? Shouldn't their level fluctuate since their bodies have changed? The answer, he realized, was no. Evolution didn't change a Pokémon's level; it merely increased their potential. A Garchomp's body may have greater physical potential than a Gabite's, but that only makes it harder to reach the peak condition. The efficiency of their Aura doesn't reset—it simply grows at a slower rate.
He glanced at Rattata again, considering how Aura influenced her. It wasn't just a mystical energy; it was something that amplified what was already there. He thought back to what he'd observed in other Pokémon. Take Galarian Meowth, for example, he mused, jotting down the thought. Even if this feline creature didn't have Aura, parts of Galarian Meowth's body are naturally composed of metal, giving it a higher resistance to physical attacks. But with Aura flowing through its body, that metallic toughness is increased exponentially.
Rattata let out a determined grunt, shifting her stance to keep up with the erratic movements of the dummies. Her training was not just improving her physical speed but also fine-tuning her instinctual reactions. Caelan smirked, watching her with a mixture of pride and fascination.
After a while he returned his attention to the notebook, the pen moving swiftly now.
Aura doesn't impose anything new on a Pokémon—it enhances what they already possess. A Pokémon with a strong body becomes even stronger. A Pokémon with keen senses becomes even sharper. Physical and special distinctions aren't arbitrary—they reflect the natural pathways through which a Pokémon channels their Aura. A strong body channels Aura into physical attacks, while a strong mind channels it into special moves.
A resounding beep echoed, signaling Rattata's completion of the first level. She looked up with pride, her tiny chest puffed out.
Caelan nodded approvingly. "You're getting faster. At this rate, no one's going to keep up with you."
Rattata squeaked in response, her tail flicking in delight as she bounced on her hind legs, clearly eager to continue. Caelan watched her for a moment, feeling the corners of his mouth lift into a soft smile. There was something about her earnest desire to grow that inspired him, something that kept him optimistic as they explored the limits of her power together.
As the machine started back up again, this time on the next level, his gaze drifted back to his notebook. There were still things he didn't understand, things that he couldn't put into a coherent context. Bite, Rage—both had come seemingly out of nowhere, but he knew that they weren't random. They were the results of a deeper phenomenon, one that he had no clue where to even start.
His theory was still developing, but it felt closer to the truth than anything he'd read before.
Instead of dwelling on that, Caelan instead developed the conclusion to his building thesis.
If Aura is the soul, then the body and mind are the tools to wield it. The stronger the tools, the more efficiently the soul can express itself through a Pokémon's moves. Levels are just markers of that efficiency. The true growth is in how well a Pokémon can harmonize their body, mind, and soul to reach their full potential.
With a final stroke of the pen, he closed the notebook, tucking it away for later.
For now, he was content to simply watch Rattata, the embodiment of everything he was starting to understand about the complex and intricate world they were navigating together.
As Caelan settled back into his seat, ready to observe Rattata's next attempt, a soft knock echoed from the entrance. He looked up, slightly startled by the interruption, though he remained composed, waiting to see who would enter.
The door creaked open, revealing a young trainer around his age. He had shaggy auburn hair that fell into his eyes, and he fiddled nervously with the edge of his jacket.
"Um... Excuse me?" the boy stammered, stepping just inside the room, his gaze darting between Caelan and the now-paused Rattata. "Are you... the trainer with the strong Rattata?"
Caelan arched an eyebrow, his expression neutral. Without responding verbally, he simply gestured toward Rattata, who stood proudly at attention, still catching her breath from the training session. The boy blushed slightly, clearly embarrassed by the obvious answer to his question.
"I-I'm sorry to interrupt," he hurried to say, lowering his gaze to the floor as if he'd suddenly decided his shoes were the most fascinating thing in the room. "I just—well, I heard from some other trainers that you're, um... really skilled. And I... I wanted to ask if maybe—if you're not too busy—if we could have a battle?"
'Other trainers are talking about us?' Caelan thought, his thoughts drifting back to the challengers he had to face. 'I guess we haven't actually lost a battle yet…'
Looking over to Rattata, he raised an eyebrow. In response, Rattata tilted her head, her ears perking up with interest at the mention of a battle. Although that magic understanding they once had was still out of his reach, it was becoming easier to communicate the more time they spent together.
Caelan stood up from his seat, sliding his notebook to the side. "We are in the middle of training," he said calmly, "but we can stop at any point."
The boy nodded eagerly, his initial nervousness melting away, replaced by a flicker of excitement. "Thank you!" He took a deep breath, puffing up his chest as if trying to make himself seem more confident than he felt. "I… I have a Mouse Pokémon too—Pichu. I thought maybe, you know, since you're experienced with Rattata, I could learn from battling someone who's trained a Mouse Pokémon before."
"Is that so…" Caelan's eyebrows raised slightly, intrigued. "What's your name?"
"Oh, my name is Ritchie!" The boy took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Caelan's with a determined gleam, "And I'm gonna be a Pokémon Master!"
