If Naoki had to buy all his Pokémon from a Day Care, and he was only buying high-quality babies—at least “shop treasure” potential—then even burning through the full two hundred million in his pocket wouldn’t be enough to put together two full teams. He’d be better off catching wild Pokémon and raising them himself. The money he saved could go straight back into training.

“We’re out at sea. If you want to rebuild your strength, Water-type Pokémon should be the first pick. Any thoughts?” Reiji offered the direction, but how to walk it still depended on Naoki.

“Boss… I still want to catch another Geodude and raise it,” Naoki said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. What ideas could he possibly have right now? Everything depended on this mysterious leader.

“I’m asking about Water-types,” Reiji said, like he’d just realised Naoki might be half-deaf. “Water-types.”

“Boss, as long as it makes me stronger, it doesn’t matter what I catch.” Naoki knew he’d misunderstood. Making the boss repeat himself was incompetence, so he hurried to answer properly.

“We’re on the ocean. Water-types are everywhere. If a Magikarp evolves, it can boost your fighting strength overnight.” Reiji looked out at the endless blue. For Water-type trainers, this was basically a treasury.

“Magikarp? I’ve heard its evolution is… a mystery,” Naoki said. He’d dealt with the Storm Gang before. They had a way to force Magikarp to evolve—an anger-stimulation method.

If a Magikarp evolved, the Storm Gang would keep it. If it didn’t, they’d toss it. But the Gyarados that evolved that way were notoriously short-tempered and hard to control, and they were prone to snapping and attacking their own trainers. Violent personality, bad temper, and a real risk of turning on their owner.

“There are plenty of Magikarp. One or two are bound to evolve,” Reiji said. “When one does, you catch that one. You’ll have to do the catching yourself. Other Water-types are fine too—I’ll help you screen them and tell you whether they’re worth taking.”

“Boss… you mean…” Naoki got it. Reiji didn’t say it out loud, but it was obvious: Naoki would be responsible for catching Water-type Pokémon, and Reiji would judge their talent. Good talent stayed. Bad talent got released.

That meant every Pokémon Naoki caught would have the potential to reach the Elite Four tier. If he raised them step by step, getting to Elite Four tier was only a matter of time.

And if that was true… then every Pokémon the boss had must be the best of the best. Which meant the boss was Champion tier.

Even if he wasn’t right now, he would be sooner or later. Naoki was starting to feel like he’d latched onto someone terrifying. He had to treasure this chance—hold onto this thick, sturdy lifeline and never let go.

Betrayal?

Was he stupid? Who would dare betray a boss like this? Either you weren’t awake yet, or you were tired of living.

“That’s exactly what you think,” Reiji said, nodding. “As long as they’re wild Pokémon, you can catch them and raise them. Raise what you catch properly, and rebuilding your strength is just a matter of time.”

Reiji didn’t mind admitting it. This was Darkrai’s ability anyway—if anyone had to take the blame, Darkrai could take the fall.

“I understand, Boss.” Naoki clenched his fist so hard his knuckles went pale. Revenge felt possible now. Becoming an Elite Four–tier trainer felt possible too. But he needed time—lots of time.

Ten years… no, five. In five years, he would reach Elite Four tier. From now on, every resource he gained would go into his Pokémon. No more slacking. No more visiting Aya. No more buying Aya gifts.

Thinking back, each gift had been more expensive than the last. If he’d turned all that money into training resources and invested it into his Pokémon, he might’ve become Elite Four tier already. He might’ve even married Aya already.

Aya… you have to wait for me. I’ll come back as an Elite Four–tier trainer and marry you. You have to wait.

After silently praying it through one more time, Naoki looked back at the shimmering blue sea, his resolve hardening into something solid.

“This Pokémon is the organisation’s symbol. Its talent’s not bad—Advanced tier is no problem,” Reiji said. “Just keep it on your shoulder. Remember to carry an Everstone. If it evolves, you’ll need to catch another one.”

From the pile of Pokémon he’d taken earlier, Reiji picked out a Spinarak with potential rated at forty-five and handed it to Naoki—benefits for joining.

Spinarak was useful for now, but once their strength climbed, it would be nothing more than a decoration—good for cleaning up small problems that didn’t matter.

“Thank you, Boss,” Naoki said, voice catching. This was only the second time he’d met a stranger who treated him this well. The first was Aya. Reiji was the second.

“Alright. We’re on the same side,” Reiji said, waving him off. “Grab your stuff and find somewhere to stay. Don’t keep hanging around my room—if someone sees, I can’t explain it.”

Reiji couldn’t stand seeing a grown man cry. If it were a cute girl, he might’ve offered a few comforting words. A muscular guy? No.

“Yes, Boss.” Naoki went back to his room, took the incubator and his backpack, and left Reiji’s sea-view room.

Out in the hallway, Naoki knocked on the next sea-view room over. A young couple opened the door. Naoki took out one hundred thousand Pokédollars and asked calmly, “One hundred thousand. I’m buying your room.”

“Are you insane? No.”

“Two hundred thousand.” Naoki pulled out another one hundred thousand and raised the offer.

“You’re sick. No.”

“Three hundred thousand.” When he hit three hundred thousand, the husband reached out, took the money, and smiled.

“Don’t be mad. Give us three minutes—we’ll move right now.” He shut the door fast, dragged his wife back inside, and started persuading her in a low rush. “Why fight him? Don’t fight money. Three hundred thousand is enough for us to stay in a sea-view room ten times. Pack up.”

“That’s all the backbone you’ve got,” the wife snapped, still refusing to let it go, jabbing him hard with her finger.

In the end, a few more sentences did the job. The couple quickly gathered their belongings, opened the door, handed Naoki their ticket and key, and walked off cheerfully with their luggage.

Less than five minutes after leaving, Naoki had moved into the sea-view room next to Reiji’s. He let Flygon out to eat, told it to keep watch, then collapsed onto the soft bed and fell asleep.

From yesterday to today, he hadn’t had a single good night’s rest. He was going to sleep properly now. Catching Water-types, revenge—none of it needed to be rushed. He’d waited ten years already. Five years was nothing. He could afford to be patient.

His targets were all strong trainers. They wouldn’t die easily. The day he got revenge would come.

Their destination was Sunburst Island. Not only were there plenty of Water-types, but it also had forests and caves. Grass-, Bug-, and Rock-type Pokémon were there for the taking too. He could catch Pokémon there and bring them to the boss for evaluation.

That was where his revenge road would begin. Swampert would be buried there. It would end there—and begin there.

“Trovitopolis… my enemies. Live well. We’ll meet again someday. I, Naoki, will come back—Trovitopolis.”

…

After Naoki left, Reiji let his Pokémon out for breakfast too. The room was small, so he could only release them in batches.

Once they finished eating, the larger Pokémon went back into their Poké Balls. If the Pokémon wanted to play, they could play in the dream. If they wanted to battle, they could battle in the dream.

If they went three days without fighting, his battle-crazy Scyther would probably lose it. And “the dummy” needed to headbutt trees. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t feel right—and it wouldn’t sleep either. That iron head had to come from somewhere.

He let them do whatever they wanted in the dream. In reality, he left only Spinarak and Darkrai behind—one visible sentry, one hidden—then started sorting through the haul he’d worked all night to get. Everything was still in Gengar’s stomach.

He released Gengar and had it spit out every backpack, then sent it back into its Poké Ball so it could return to the dream and play with the others.

There were forty or fifty backpacks—enough to nearly fill the room. He set aside three: the ore bag, Riku’s bag, and the ore bag from the burly man in black.

The two ore bags were nothing but minerals, not worth looking at. The only thing he pulled out separately was the burly man’s Pokémon.

As for Riku’s bag, he’d already transferred the contents into other bags to prevent any tricks. He poured everything out, packed it into a different large bag, kept only the electronics inside Riku’s original bag, then tossed that bag straight into the ocean.

The passenger ship was currently on the route to Sunburst Island, and the wind was blowing from the east. That bag would drift back the way they’d come—toward Mandarin Island.

Where it drifted didn’t matter. Reiji was already moving across the sea, and the wind and waves would scramble everything. Even if Riku found the bag, he wouldn’t find Reiji.

Last night, he’d only taken the bag out once, at the black hotel. After that, he never exposed it again. He didn’t leave a single opening. Otherwise, when he’d been listening in, he would’ve been killed on the spot.

As for the lingering smell of alcohol?

Whether it was Lorelei’s village or Trovitopolis, both were big cities. At night, people drank everywhere. Who was going to track that?

That was the point of using alcohol to mask scents. In a city, it was normal. In a forest, it would stand out immediately.

Even in the worst case—if Riku dug up some clue—Reiji would already be long gone. When he’d worked the underworld, he’d used fake identities and hidden both his face and his real background. Forget Riku—Team Rocket wouldn’t find him either.

That’s how it played out.

That night, Riku returned underground and discovered his bag was missing. He went insane searching. He tore the entire cave base apart and still couldn’t find it.

The subordinates who’d stayed behind at the Storm Gang base were locked up and tortured. Not one admitted to stealing it.

Everyone understood the logic: deny it and you get beaten. Admit it and fail to produce the goods, and you die.

Riku had no choice but to accept it wasn’t his people. The tracking signal he’d planted on the bag vanished the moment Gengar swallowed it.

But the signal had appeared briefly in Yambera the day before. When Riku rushed to the black hotel, there was nothing left.

The room was spotless, except it stank of alcohol—as if a drunk had been drinking in there. The front desk couldn’t describe the guest’s face clearly. All they remembered was someone dressed in black.

When Riku asked whether the guest had been drinking, the front desk said firmly that the person hadn’t been drunk at all. They’d come and gone perfectly clear-headed.

On top of that, the guest had asked them to clean the room on the way out. The floor was covered in vomit. No drinking, yet vomit. Weird.

It wasn’t vomit. It was rice mixed with alcohol and food, mashed up until it looked convincing—Reiji’s prop to make the room seem like a drunk had stayed there.

The hotel cleaned it all up, wiping Reiji’s trail even further. Riku was so furious he wanted to kill someone, staring at the staff like he could swallow them whole.

But he didn’t. He left.

Then this afternoon, the bag’s tracking signal appeared again—out at sea.

Riku immediately rode a Pelipper and followed the signal. By the time he found the bag, the sky was already darkening. He fished it out of the water and opened it.

Only the electronics remained. Everything else was gone.

Someone had stolen his bag, taken every valuable inside, and tossed the bag away.

That bag had contained Pokémon resources worth several hundred million. Some couldn’t even be bought with money. It also had the Prism Scale the captain had rewarded him with. Now it was gone—how was he supposed to explain that when the captain asked?

Which bastard had stolen his Pokémon Egg and left him only the incubator and a pile of useless electronics?

The high-grade Fire Stone he’d saved for Vulpix’s evolution—gone. His bank card—gone. There was still over a hundred million on it—gone.

When he found the bag, it was near the northern coast of Mandarin Island, not far offshore. That meant the thief had left the city, come to the north coast, emptied the bag, and dumped it.

So the thief was probably still on Mandarin Island.

Or maybe they’d already gone back out to sea.

But where was he supposed to look? Mandarin Island was huge. A rat could dig a hole anywhere and disappear.

And the ocean was even bigger. If the thief left from the northern coast, where did they go next?

Pinkan Island, a nature reserve. The thief probably wouldn’t go there… but you never knew. Sometimes the most dangerous place was the safest.

If the thief wanted to sell the loot, they’d likely go to Sunburst Island, Mandarin Island North, Tangelo Island, Valencia Island…

Most likely Mandarin Island North or Tangelo Island. Those markets were big enough to swallow his goods. The other two…

One was an island with a League research institute. The other didn’t even have a Pokémon Center. Those two were unlikely.

To the east there was the Fukuhara No. 4 Islands, Kinnow Island, and Golden Island—so many islands.

Heading east, Kinnow Island was the most likely. It also had a major market that could handle everything.

Especially the rare items. If the thief didn’t recognise their value and treated them like junk—or tried to demand a high price—

Then all Riku had to do was place people on Kinnow Island, Mandarin Island North, and Tangelo Island. The moment someone tried to sell anything, he’d catch the scent. The thief wouldn’t get away.

Not just rare items. If the thief brought out his gold, silver, jewels, jewellery, and necklaces, they’d never slip past his eyes either. Those were custom pieces—highly distinctive.

As for places farther away… he could only tell sailors to keep an eye out. If they ran into the thief, great. If not, then tough luck.

He knew it was like searching for a needle in the ocean. But with the trail broken, this was the only move he had.

Now it came down to whether the thief was an idiot—whether they’d make a mistake. If they slipped once, he’d catch them.

And if he did catch them, they’d die horribly. He’d use every method he had to torture them until they regretted ever touching his things.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep