Chapter 58The ten students took back their Pokémon and stood in a line, their eyes fixed on Chen as he prepared to speak.

  "Because of pride?"

  A hesitant voice rose from the group.

  Chen shook his head. "That's only a minor issue. Everyone has pride. Shirona being this powerful at her age? Even I couldn’t have done that back then. It’s hard to believe, I get it. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe it either.

  "You’ve all been quite composed, all things considered."

  He gnced down the line, his eyes sharp. "Your real problem is that you’re not decisive enough in battle."

  "Decisive...?" The students exchanged confused gnces.

  Chen nodded. "Yes. You have a lot of experience in standard field battles, and your theoretical knowledge is extensive thanks to years of study. But that also restricts your thinking."

  He opened the compact computer in his hand—it looked tiny against his broad frame.

  "All ten of you registered as bounty hunters, correct?"

  They nodded. They didn’t need the money, but curiosity had led them to sign up.

  "As I thought. I checked your statuses—you're all E-rank, meaning you've only just registered."

  Chen tapped the screen. The results didn’t surprise him.

  It was perfectly normal. Students weren’t expected to focus on bounty work during their studies. This was precisely why temporary instruction was arranged for advanced students prior to graduation.

  Of course, bounty hunter data was typically confidential. But Chen wasn’t just anyone. In fact, the bounty hunters operated under a rger organization that he helped oversee.

  He had some of the highest backend clearance avaible. The academy also maintained records.

  "Let’s talk about your graduation requirements. You won’t graduate until you’ve completed at least five A-rank missions, and your mission success rate must be no lower than 80%."

  The students’ expressions shifted from confusion to disbelief.

  They had no idea what five A-rank missions plus an 80% completion rate truly entailed. They’d learn soon enough—likely the hard way.

  A-rank missions were nothing like B-rank or below. And an 80% success rate was far from easy.

  Not everyone could maintain a terrifying 95% completion rate like Tetsuya.

  "Now let’s talk about what just happened. Why did I say you ck decisiveness?"

  Before he could continue, Shirona suddenly stepped forward.

  "Roserade, Vine Whip."

  In an instant, her humanoid bouquet Pokémon emerged, shing out with multiple vine whips from its red and blue floral arms. Within moments, all ten students were lifted off the ground, bound tightly by the vines.

  They were stunned by the speed of the attack. Before any of them could react, their bodies were immobilized.

  Some instinctively struggled, only to be bound more tightly.

  Ye Zang was the quickest to respond. Sensing something was wrong the moment he was restrained, he tried to summon his Pokémon. But Roserade’s vines snatched the Poké Ball from his hand and bound it as well.

  Chen didn’t even gnce at the chaos in front of him. He continued calmly, as if lecturing in a quiet cssroom.

  "Why do I say you weren’t decisive enough? Because the moment Shirona challenged you, you should have responded by immediately deploying your Pokémon and taking control of the situation. Then you can express your frustration—after you've neutralized the threat.

  "You let her summon Garchomp, even though you had your Pokémon out first. Why didn’t you stop her?

  "And when I asked you to send out your ace Pokémon, why did you only send one? Who said you’re only allowed one ace? All of your Pokémon should be ace-level in your mind.

  "When Shirona said, 'all ten of you come together', the standard 6v6 rules no longer applied.

  "Did any of you think about how you’d protect yourselves if your single ace fell in battle?

  "And finally, after I healed your Pokémon, you recalled them. Did anyone decre the battle was over?"

  Of course, Chen knew his words were a bit idealistic. Shirona was their teacher, after all. They wouldn’t actually attack her.

  But he didn’t have the time to expin every principle in depth. That would be the responsibility of their future instructors.

  And experience would be their harshest teacher. When they tackled their graduation missions, they’d feel it firsthand. Some might even die.

  It was harsh—but normal. Every year, graduates faced this trial. To grow stronger, something had to be sacrificed.

  Chen had long made peace with life and death. And these young trainers, who would one day become the backbone of the League, would have to face it too.

  What happened afterward was something Ye Zang would rather forget. He shuddered at the memory, snapped out of it, and refocused on training.

  Shirona, meanwhile, had already moved on in her mind.

  "Hmm... What should we eat tonight? Ice cream with oden sounds fun... or maybe curry rice...?"

  —

  Elsewhere, Tetsuya was still teaching his group of students.

  "According to the test research by Professor Birch in the Hoenn region, all Grass-type Pokémon are immune to powder-based moves. That’s why they remain unaffected when releasing such moves themselves.

  "We used to believe it was due to skill or energy control, but it's actually a biological immunity.

  "Based on this, you should focus your training strategies around the three main powder moves: Poison Powder, Stun Spore, and Sleep Powder.

  "In the Kanto region, our Grass-type starter Pokémon, Bulbasaur—whose final evolution is Venusaur—is especially well-suited for early-stage development along these lines."

  He clicked the remote and changed the slide.

  "So here’s your homework: If you were to raise a Bulbasaur focused on powder-based techniques, what training materials would you need? Why? What chemical or elemental interactions are involved?

  "Write out your proposed training pn and turn it in by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll review them on the spot."

  Groans rippled through the group. This wouldn’t be easy.

  Tetsuya began packing up his lesson materials.

  "Teacher!" a voice called.

  He turned. "Yes, Sundae-san?"

  Tetsuya's tone was warm—he was always encouraging to students who showed promise. Sundae had done quite well in css today. No surprise she would eventually rise to the top.

  But this time, her expression was tense. Her voice wasn’t cheerful or light—it carried weight.

  And the question she asked next would mark the start of something deeper.

  Tetsuya Tamaki walked down the road with a faint smile pying on his lips. Honestly, the feeling of being a teacher for the first time wasn’t bad at all—especially the sense of accomplishment after helping a student solve a tough problem.

  Checking the time, he decided to stop by the school cafeteria for lunch. The food was surprisingly good, and the chef's skills were almost on par with his own.

  Afterward, he made his way to the logistics department, where he had heard he could get reimbursed for the past seven days of training expenses.

  As soon as he expined the reason for his visit, the staff quickly confirmed his identity.

  "Tetsuya Tamaki, Cultivator, Junior Student Css 1. Daily allowance: one million Alliance Coins, totaling seven million for the week."

  Such generosity. Tetsuya couldn't help but marvel at how wealthy this school was. Even as a temporary teacher for the lower grades, the treatment was top-notch. For a moment, he seriously considered staying on as a teacher. The benefits were just that good.

  Then again, it made sense—private, high-level education didn’t come cheap. Experience and expertise were priceless.

  Although he hadn't yet passed the Breeder's Certification Exam, Tetsuya had complete confidence in his skills.

  He shook his head. No, his goal wasn’t to be a teacher. He was determined to become the most powerful trainer. Teaching could wait until he achieved that.

  As Tetsuya left the logistics department and returned to his dorm from the principal’s office, Principal Kota sipped his tea and watched him go.

  "Apart from his occasionally low emotional intelligence, there’s nothing wrong with that kid," he mused with a fond smile. That was also why he had chosen to support Tetsuya from behind the scenes.

  Regarding the stipend—did anyone really think one million a day came just from Professor Yamanashi’s recommendation? That wasn’t realistic. After all, Tetsuya was still just an ordinary-level trainer.

  Sure, Professor Yamanashi and the Nibi Gym had high hopes for him, but every year, there were promising rookies in every region. Optimism didn’t guarantee results.

  Tetsuya’s only standout achievement so far was an impressive 98% mission completion rate as a bounty hunter. Beyond that, he wasn’t worth that much—not yet.

  So Kota had quietly dipped into his own savings. It was a small investment, one he felt was his responsibility as a teacher. No need to tell the kid.

  To him, it was pocket change.

  "Speaking of which, my second brother's youngest grandson is about to come of age. I should prepare a gift for him... What was his name again? Kojiro?"

  Chewing on a tea leaf, Kota sighed. He really was getting old, forgetting names like that.

  Back in his room, Tetsuya flopped onto the sofa and stared blissfully at his new bank bance: 7 million Alliance Coins.

  Then he sighed. It still wasn’t enough.

  He pulled out his notebook—the one he used to track his spending. Even with his photographic memory, writing things down helped.

  Over the st 40 days at White Cape, he'd spent 26.5 million coins. Most of it went to Berries, training ground rentals, and cultivation materials for his three main Pokémon. That didn't even include the special rocks he'd bought in advance for Gigalith.

  Tetsuya tapped his foot, expression calm. It was just money, after all.

  Including the 7 million he just received, his total came to 15.1832 million Alliance Coins. If he factored in the Leaf Stone from Brock and the Charcoal used by Bziken, his net worth barely scraped past 50 million.

  He still had 2.5 million tons of Gigalith’s special rock left—enough for ten days. Berries and training materials were stocked for the next two weeks. Not bad.

  He closed his eyes and winced. When would this ever end?

  There was no helping it. If he wanted to get stronger fast, he had to burn through money. Strength didn’t come cheap.

  Most civilian trainers spent years, even decades, to build a well-rounded six-Pokémon team. Some never even managed to raise six high-quality partners and pteaued halfway.

  But for Tetsuya, everything except money was manageable.

  He tapped the table, thinking hard about how to make some fast cash.

  And quickly gave up. The Alliance had airtight regutions guarding against the kind of creative (and sometimes shady) schemes running through his head. He was a w-abiding citizen, after all!

  There were legitimate ways to earn money, sure—just not ones avaible to him right now, not with his current status.

  He gnced at the calendar. Forty-eight days left. Two months, including time for results to be announced.

  Just two more months. If he could make it through that, a big payday was on the horizon.

  Judging by his current spending rate, he could afford to continue cultivating three Pokémon. The problem was that the strength gap between his current team and the new recruits might be too rge. The ter additions wouldn’t have enough time to become serious contenders before the Quartz Conference.

  He sighed again. Tetsuya was getting used to sighing. It was becoming a daily routine.

  Still, he couldn’t sck off on training.

  He gathered his three Pokémon—who had just finished their meal—and headed to the training grounds.

  During this seven-day stint as a temporary teacher, his css schedule alternated every other day between morning and afternoon. The rest of the time was his to use, which gave him some welcome freedom.

  The research school’s training facilities were top-of-the-line. External rental grounds cost 100,000 a day, but these were worth at least double that. Seven days here meant a savings of 1.4 million. A huge win.

  But just half an hour ter, Tetsuya returned to his room looking dejected. The battle and training fields were fully booked for intermediate and advanced students during the morning and afternoon. Teachers could only use them early in the morning or te at night.

  Frustrated but undeterred, Tetsuya changed into his exploration gear and headed back out ten minutes ter. This time, his destination wasn’t the training ground—it was the wilderness.

  He’d done his homework. He and his Pidgeot were already registered, so taking off and nding in front of the dorm was permitted.

  Adjusting his goggles, Tetsuya climbed onto Pidgeot’s back and silently pointed to the distant mountains. Pidgeot chirped in understanding.

  With a powerful beat of his wings, Pidgeot soared into the air with Tetsuya aboard.

  After nding with a shaky step, Tetsuya looked at the looming mountains ahead, spped his cheeks, and gave himself a pep talk.

  "Take a break, Pidgeot. Come on out, Gigalith, Bziken!"

  As the two towering Pokémon emerged, Tetsuya grinned. “I’ll be counting on you two out there!”

  "Giga!"

  "Bze!"

  Their confident cries echoed in the quiet mountains, and Tetsuya nodded with satisfaction. That was the spirit he liked to see.

  "Let’s move out!"