Game Chapter 13: Becoming Trainer Again... (Patreon)

This time it took Cynthia a full half minute to explain everything to Professor Oak.

When he finished listening, he clearly found it hard to believe.

“Something like that really exists?”

Cynthia had previously asked him to search for information and leads on the Sky Dragon, but even after using his resources and connections—visiting Hoenn, asking around, combing ancient texts—he’d come up empty.

—He hadn’t found a single hair related to that Legendary.

And now Cynthia was telling him she’d seen it… on a game cover?

After a brief spell of disbelief, Professor Oak got excited.

—This developer hadn’t just recreated the form of a fossil Pokémon; he’d even used Rayquaza’s image on the cover. Which meant he might have more information on rare Pokémon!

And if he could produce a reconstruction of an ancient Pokémon that good, his skill in fossil research likely surpassed Oak’s own team.

If they could recruit him—or at least collaborate…

At that thought, Oak’s eyes lit up.

“What was the game called again? I’ll try it too.”

“Huh? Professor, you’re going to play?”

Now it was Cynthia’s turn to be surprised.

You couldn’t blame her; Professor Oak was pushing seventy. “Video game” doesn’t usually go with that age.

“What? Cynthia, only my body’s old. My heart isn’t. Back in the day, I was a Trainer who could keep up with you.”

He laughed.

That reminded Cynthia that the world-famous professor had been Champion-class in his youth, only switching to research because of his love for Pokémon…

“In that case, I’ll send you the link in a bit, Professor.”

“But the game’s a little difficult. You’ll have to take it seriously,” she added.

“Heh, it’s just a game—how hard can it be?”

“Don’t let the old man’s age fool you. I sneak in all kinds of games. This won’t stump me.”

He chuckled. “Relax. If this old man gets the first clear, you’ll get the developer’s contact info too.”

“Then… thank you, Professor,” Cynthia said.

For some reason his brimming confidence felt familiar.

Wasn’t that exactly how she’d been when she first started Emerald?

…

After hanging up, Cynthia returned her attention to Iono’s stream.

Watching for a bit, she figured out why the Rock Gym’s first Pokémon—Lileep—was such a hurdle.

It had extremely high dual defenses, held an item that restored HP over time, used Recover to heal half its health, and threw in Confuse Ray for control—nasty to deal with.

As a Champion, she’d seen such builds before. Some advanced Trainers raise their Pokémon for “turtle-and-counter” strategies—outlasting foes with defense and healing.

With her own real-world team, a Pokémon like that wouldn’t be a big problem.

But this was a game, and still early—available captures and training were very limited, which multiplied Lileep’s difficulty many times over.

When Iono’s Joltik, confused, used Bug Bite on itself and knocked out its last sliver of HP, Cynthia couldn’t help a small snort of laughter and closed the stream.

She knew she shouldn’t laugh, but the way Iono went scarlet and shot up straight like a cadet at attention… she couldn’t help it.

Even so, she’d gotten key intel.

The next Gym was Rock-type—she could prepare ahead.

That seemed like good news for her Treecko—Grass beats Rock.

But she didn’t think Treecko could break through Lileep. Lileep looked like Rock + Grass, and Grass resists Grass, so Treecko’s Grass moves wouldn’t be very effective.

So she’d need to raise something that could handle Lileep.

First, though, she had to deal with the rival waiting at the end of the route—“Black-Haired Boy.”

If she couldn’t beat him, she wouldn’t even make it out of the starter area, let alone to the Gym…

With that, she turned her camera and mic back on, sat down, and apologized:

“Thanks for waiting, everyone—sorry, I had to take a call.”

[It’s okay! I’ll wait forever!]

[She warmed my cold, dead heart]

[Who was it? Lance? Steven Stone?]

…

Emerald booted up and a window popped.

But this time, the opening cinematic had been replaced by a notice.

Cynthia blinked at it.

An… update?

And judging by the timestamp, it had gone live just minutes ago?

Curious, she read:

[Dear players, the game has been updated! Current version: 0.2]

[Latest changes:]

[1) Added “Weather” system. Weather now changes by region and time. Outdoor battles under weather conditions are affected accordingly; some non-battle mechanics are also activated—please explore.]

[2) Further enhanced Pokémon/NPC smart AI; they now have more distinct personalities.]

[3) Optimized particle effects for move animations to improve visuals.]

[4) The map now extends to Dewford Town. After clearing the first Gym, you can proceed to the island and attempt the second Gym!]

…

Her first reaction was surprise.

If she remembered correctly, the game had only launched the day before yesterday.

Two updates in two days?

Thinking it over, her eyes landed on line two—and she froze.

Wait.

—“Enhanced smart AI”?

When did this game sneak in AI??

…

Having played Battle Road for more than a year, Cynthia knew how hard it was to add intelligent AI to a game.

Even a giant like Dream Factory had sunk tons of time and money into PvE AI and gotten little for it—just a pile of bugs.

AI’s only a few years old globally; building it deeply for games is hard.

And yet Emerald… after a single day, claimed it had AI?

If it were any other game, she wouldn’t believe it.

But this game?

If the developer said it, she suspected it was true.

As she pondered, chat rolled by:

[Huh? There really is AI?]

[Anyone who bought it—confirm?]

[Don’t bother—if they bought it, they’re playing, not watching. You know how good this is.]

[Is it my love for the streamer keeping me here? No—it's my poverty, because I can’t afford the game…]

Viewers who’d watched Iono chimed in:

[It’s real—and super smart!]

[You’ll see.]

Even with testimonials, some still doubted; Emerald had already blown past expectations on day one, and now it claimed AI after a day away…

While disbelief simmered, Cynthia stepped out of the Pokémon Center.

She glanced at a prompt on screen.

“Press E to interact by voice or text…”

Muttering, she noticed Treecko’s expression looked… off.

Unlike the perpetually cool pose from the start, Treecko was standing at her side, sideways glare, arms crossed, twig between its teeth—clearly displeased.

Even in pixels, the visuals were polished enough that Cynthia could tell: her Treecko had feelings right now…

She pressed E to try “pet Treecko’s head.”

Her avatar reached out—Treecko hopped back!

“Tree-cko—”

It even let out a disdainful cry.

Chat was stunned.

Then the feed exploded.

[Holy—this really is AI. How is this different from a real Pokémon?]

[hahahaha two losses in a row—of course it’s salty!]

[Pre-scripted, right? Lose twice to the same foe, then try to interact = trigger event?]

…

Cynthia had her own focus. She took a breath and pressed E again.

This time, she didn’t type a command—she spoke, earnest:

“Treecko, I’m truly sorry about those losses. Neither battle was your fault.”

“I’m going to improve our team so you won’t have to fight into type disadvantage. I’ll find ways to let you shine.”

“And I promise—one day, no matter how strong or troublesome the opponent, you’ll be able to stand and fight.”

“So… give me another chance, okay?”

She stared at the screen.

Treecko turned toward her avatar, pouted a little, flicked its tail, and edged two steps closer.

“Tree-cko, Tree.”

A prompt popped:

[Clearly, Treecko has begrudgingly accepted your apology—but you’ll have to prove it with actions.]

[Also, it says if you send it against Fire-types again, it’s going on strike.]

Chat went supernova.

If anyone had doubted the AI before, now there was no question—the responses were too fast, too accurate, too real.

[This AI is nuts—like a real Pokémon!]

[Even the narrator sounds AI-driven…]

[This Treecko is so tsundere. So that’s what it means for Pokémon to have unique personalities…]

[This leaves Dream Factory’s Battle Road AI in the dust—twenty streets behind. Compared to this, theirs is artificial idiocy!]

…

Cynthia stared at Treecko, dazed.

Old memories rose.

Years ago, when she’d just gotten her starter—just an ordinary girl—her Garchomp hadn’t been a titan yet, only a newly hatched Gible…

In her first important battle against kids her age, she lost because of poor command.

Afterward, Gible had stood just like Treecko—hands on hips, chin up, cheeks puffed in indignation.

But the young Cynthia had made a promise:

“Gible, don’t be mad… it was my bad call.”

“I’ll work hard to improve my commanding so I won’t hold you back. I promise!”

“One day we’ll be incredible—better than any Trainer!”

Gible had pouted, grunted, and edged closer.

And the rest… needed no retelling.

In the end, she kept that promise.

And now…

Cynthia looked at the grumpy Treecko with hands behind its head and chuckled softly.

This moment and that one—mirror images, weren’t they?

Does this count as… becoming a Trainer all over again?