Reiji took the Mankey’s Poké Ball and pulled up its proficiency readout again, checking whether the masked seller had swapped it.

No swap. He beckoned Skinny over and handed off the payment duty. “Pay up. Now.”

“Huh?” Skinny had been a bystander this whole time; being dragged in to pay left him blinking.

Wasn’t Reiji the one buying the Pokémon? Why was he footing the bill?

“What are you spacing out for—” Reiji was about to flick Skinny on the head when the same masked onlooker who’d warned them earlier spoke up again.

“You’re really buying it? A limp’s a hard flaw. You can’t cure that—don’t get conned…”

“Here’s one million.” Skinny ignored the peanut gallery. If Reiji-nii told him to pay, he paid.

The vendor shot a glare at the nosy onlooker, then, seeing the transfer clear, happily pocketed the money and let the matter drop.

Once Skinny paid, Reiji led him off, tossed him the Mankey’s ball, and hooked an arm over his shoulder, whispering at his ear, “Don’t ask. We’ll talk back home.”

Watching them leave, the onlooker muttered that fools really were everywhere, then slipped after them—quietly tailing the two “rich idiots” who’d even bought a lame Mankey.

Neither of them noticed the tail. Skinny followed Reiji through the stalls, lightly squeezing the Poké Ball in his hand. He knew this Mankey wasn’t simple.

After a careful look, he tucked it into his pack. A limp was a flaw, sure, but his talent could cover it. Once it grew, it could still become a mainstay Primeape at Elite level.

A limp wasn’t everything. Reiji didn’t write the Mankey off for that alone. He’d watched the Paralympics in his past life—those athletes stunned and inspired him.

That’s not something a limp negates. Plenty of “able-bodied” people couldn’t do what they did. Every one of those athletes had iron will.

As for this Mankey—great talent. If its will was tempered, it could be an Elite-tier ace.

He’d explain all that to Skinny later, because they’d just found another prize: a booth ringed by masked buyers. Another Fighting-type for sale—Poison/Fighting: Croagunk.

A new species recently spotted on Kinnow Island, with Anticipation, Dry Skin, and the hidden ability Poison Touch.

Dry Skin was excellent in rain. Reiji liked Croagunk a lot; if the talent checked out, he’d consider it.

He slipped closer to listen.

“Seven million? That’s steep. It looks scrawny—stunted growth. Premature hatch, right? You botched incubation…”

“Had to be a bad hatch. Otherwise why sell it? It’s from Sinnoh and even has Fighting type—brand-new around here…”

“Seven million is too much. If it weren’t a new species, no way it commands a premium—this is way overpriced…”

“Yeah. Shops list ordinary ones at four to five mil. Eggs are cheaper. You don’t even know the talent and you’re asking seven…”

“And you’ll still spend a ton nursing it back. Not worth it!”

Complaint after complaint—too expensive.

A preemie with unknown talent. Its only edge was being a new off-region Fighting type. Give it half a year or a year and prices would fall.

And a Day Care would give you quality assurance. If a low-tier sold for four to five mil and this one was seven, of course people balked.

By Reiji’s math, this Croagunk topped out at four mil right now. If he bought, he’d bargain for three—assuming unknown talent.

If you were gambling anyway, better to buy an egg for two to three mil. Cheaper than a hatchling.

If talent was guaranteed, that was different—a good roll could hit much more. Shops started at four mil for the lowest tier.

The headache was that this hatchling’s talent couldn’t be verified.

Seven mil—more than the baseline, less than Elite pricing. He was aiming for a middle price.

Reiji watched the haggling. Plenty tried; the seller wouldn’t budge. People drifted off.

When the crowd thinned, Reiji stepped up. “Can I examine it up close?”

“You can look, but no touching.” The masked seller didn’t refuse, but his guard didn’t drop; he clutched the ball with both hands and held it out.

Reiji leaned in, peering through the shell—then brushed a fingertip to the casing. The seller yanked it back on reflex.

One instant was enough. The readout bloomed.

[Croagunk]

[Type: Poison/Fighting]

[Gender: Male]

[Potential: 55.5%]

[Level: 3.43%]

[Ability: Anticipation / 0.68%] [Hidden Ability: Poison Touch / 8.88%]

[Moves: (Dynamic Punch / 1.47%) (Bullet Punch / 1.27%) (Poison Jab / 6.11%) (Mud-Slap / 1.31%) (Toxic / 10.55%)]

Reiji’s eyes paused on Potential. Fifty-five point five—his pulse jumped, then steadied.

He read on—and it spiked again. Hidden Ability: Poison Touch.

But that proficiency… off. Way too high for the level.

For a level-3 hatchling, those numbers were abnormal.

He scanned the inherited moves. Dynamic Punch and Bullet Punch were fine—suggesting solid Fighting-type aptitude.

Then the Poison side—very high proficiencies, especially Toxic at ten percent.

A bug in the readout? Those numbers were absurd.

If not a bug, then another explanation: Croagunk’s Poison aptitude was too strong—beyond what its body could bear. The frail frame couldn’t carry it, leaving it ever thinner, hence the “stunted” look.

Realizing that, Reiji’s heart hammered. This talent was outrageous. He couldn’t let it slip—and he couldn’t let it show.

Breath and face under control, he let his gaze drift back to the listed ability. Anticipation instead of Dry Skin—unfortunate.

He let that disappointment show—right where the seller could see it behind the mask.

Even so, Anticipation had value as a bodyguard—early warning of danger.

With a 55-plus potential and freakish Poison aptitude, the ability was just icing. No trait could overshadow how bright this talent shone.

Dry Skin’s uses were situational—recovering in rain, immunity and heal from Water-type attacks. Under Harsh Sunlight, though, it took 1.25× Fire damage and chipped one-eighth HP per turn.

Double-edged. Weather control would be mandatory—without it, you’d be on the back foot.

Most days were sunny, not rainy. On a Sunny day, an opponent might not need to set weather; you would.

Bottom line: the more he looked, the more he liked this Croagunk—just not the price.

He closed the panel and opened with the same line the others had used—bargaining. “The Croagunk is clearly stunted. Do you know why?”

“Not sure. It hatched recently. I haven’t taken it to a Pokémon Center.” The seller dipped his head, avoiding Reiji’s eyes.

That was a lie. He’d been to a Center; he just didn’t want to say—afraid the truth would tank the price.

Beyond a massive treatment bill or an incurable condition, what else could drag the value down?

Nothing, really.

So what was the condition?

His best guess: Poison aptitude so strong it backfired on an immature body. A newborn with Poison typing couldn’t possibly yet bear that level of toxicity.

Maybe the pokemon Center hadn’t even identified it properly. If they had, he’d be doubling down on the price, not dodging.

That evasive look said he didn’t understand what he had. Maybe he’d branded the Poison talent “ominous,” blamed it for Croagunk’s stunting, and refused to mention it.

After turning that over, Reiji felt eight or nine parts sure. He had a read on this Croagunk.

Fifty-five potential. Monstrous Poison talent. He wanted it.

But if he paid seven mil and it wasn’t what he thought—if the stunting wasn’t from Poison aptitude, or fixing it cost tens of millions—he’d get burned.

“Everyone can see there’s a problem. I just want your floor price,” Reiji said at last. He’d gamble. Whatever the cause—incurable or costly—there would be a reason.

If it was incurable, then he’d spent a few million on something unusable.

If it was treatable, the number mattered. A few million he could swing; tens of millions, forget it.

High-potential Pokémon were chance encounters—and this one’s Poison talent was insane. He didn’t want to miss it.

If it were a normal, confirmed gem, it’d list for much more. He wouldn’t pay that. He preferred… free.

“You really want to buy?” The seller, hearing a softer tone instead of hard haggling, didn’t shut him down—he sank into thought.

“Depends on your number,” Reiji said. If it was too high, he’d walk.

After a moment, the seller drew a breath. He wanted this Croagunk off his hands—too many eyes were on it already. The safest place for money was the bank.

“Come with me.” He packed the stall, slung it on his back, and led Reiji away from the crowds.

Reiji followed at once. Skinny trailed close.

Price felt movable. And even if it wasn’t, Reiji meant to get this Croagunk.

A string of tails drifted after them, keeping distance.

They ducked into a quiet corner. Only then did the seller take out the Poké Ball and give the reason for the “stunted growth.”

“It isn’t stunted. Its toxicity is too strong. Its whole body is poison—you can’t even touch it. One touch and you’re poisoned. It’s extremely toxic—careless handling can be fatal…”

“Too toxic?” Reiji understood, but kept his face blank. In his head, the dots matched the readout.

And “too toxic” wasn’t a flaw—it was Poison aptitude.

“The body’s too frail to bear that toxicity,” the seller went on. “It poisons itself often, which is why it looks stunted. I’m always at the Center with it.”

“I see…” Reiji finally grasped why he wanted to sell.

Toxic all over; touch equals death; self-poisoning; treatment bills like water; mishandle it and you’re the one who dies…

From one angle, it sounded like nothing but downsides. If “potential so high it can poison its own trainer to death” counted as an upside—well, that was one.

“So—do you still want it?” the seller asked. He’d said what needed saying. If Reiji still insisted, it wasn’t a scam.

But there would be no after-sales. No safety guarantees. If you died to poison, that was on you.

(End of Chapter)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep