David stared at the floating system prompts, each one popping into his vision like the universe was trying to prank him in slow motion.
At first, his heart was on fire—pure, unfiltered joy. The first two prizes had been actual goldmines, and for a brief, fleeting moment, David believed he was finally ascending out of the pit of lottery misery and into the arms of sweet, sweet fortune.
Then the system kept going.
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Rejuvenation Pill ×1 (Whether it's a Pokémon or a human, as long as there's a breath left, they'll recover and gradually return to peak condition within an hour.)]
David blinked. "Okay, that's solid. Near-death insurance. I'll take it. That's a literal get-out-of-the-morgue-free card."
But before he could savor that victory—
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Thank You for Participating ×1.]
"...You absolute troll."
He clenched his jaw. That phrase had become his mortal enemy. No one in history had ever felt genuine gratitude receiving those four cursed words.
And the pain didn't stop there.
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Usable Fish ×1. (This is a usable fish. A nun shook her head when she saw it.)]
David squinted. "A… fish? What do you mean, usable? Why did a nun see it? Why is she disappointed? WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?!"
Pikachu in the corner was doubled over, giggling so hard he nearly choked on a rice cracker.
The system, with zero sense of mercy, continued its brutal assault:
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: A Box of Memory Toast. (You can print the knowledge from a book onto the toast. Eat it, and you instantly learn it.)]
David's eyebrow twitched. "So what, now I'm going to Hogwarts via the bakery aisle?"
Then the next one hit:
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Charm Value MAX Aura – Pokémon Version. (Grants overwhelming attraction and affinity with Pokémon. If thrown into a group of Machamps… well… don't.)]
David stood in stunned silence. "What the HELL do you mean don't?! Why would you— WHO WROTE THIS?!"
Pikachu had officially collapsed onto the floor, wheezing with laughter. Ralts peeked in from the hallway, saw the look on David's face, and slowly backed out like she'd accidentally walked into a crime scene.
And then, the grand finale:
[Congratulations to the host for receiving B-tier 10-draw guarantee prize: Intermediate Durable Booster Pills. (Grants extraordinary sexual stamina. They say 'There are no overused fields, only tired bulls'—after this pill, you ARE the bull.)]
David went silent.
Completely. Utterly. Silent.
Then, slowly, he turned to Pikachu. "So I spent 100,000 negative emotion points… and the system thinks I need to seduce Pokémon, read toast, charm a group of bodybuilder monsters, and plow metaphorical fields like a jacked farm animal."
[Draw complete.]
David flopped onto the couch like a dying Magikarp. "This... this was my B-tier jackpot?"
It wasn't that the items were completely useless. If these prizes had come from the C-tier pool, David would be flexing shirtless in the mirror by now. But this was B-tier. A hundred thousand emotion points. That was like ten full-blown table-flipping meltdowns' worth of drama. He expected at least one legendary egg, or maybe a weapon that didn't sound like it belonged in a fever dream.
Instead, he got erotic cattle steroids and a holy fish.
David covered his face with both hands and groaned. "All I wanted was a cool Pokémon, man... Maybe a dragon. A lightning sword. Is that too much to ask?"
Pikachu gave him a sympathetic pat on the leg, then immediately lost it and started laughing again.
David sighed into the couch cushion. "I'm going to need a second Rejuvenation Pill after this mental trauma."
David had been hyping himself up for this B-tier ten-pull for days. No—weeks. This was supposed to be his big break, his Pokémon lottery miracle, the moment the universe stopped treating him like a cosmic punching bag and finally handed him something god-tier.
Instead?
He was staring blankly at a twitching plastic fish on his sofa.
"…What," he muttered, voice hollow.
The fish flopped once. Mechanically. Like someone had cursed a bathtub toy with the soul of a broken Roomba.
[Obtained Negative Emotion Points +30 from David…]
[Obtained Negative Emotion Points +40 from David…]
[Obtained Negative Emotion Points +50 from David…]
The system, unbothered by his emotional spiral, just kept logging the data like it was scoring a comedy show.
David's eye twitched. "Of course. I am the comedy show."
He glared at the fish.
"What even is this? Usable fish? That's not an item, that's a bad supermarket deal. This thing's worth, like, twelve Alliance coins a kilo at the Tuesday market!"
The fish flopped again, as if to agree.
David picked it up with two fingers like it was radioactive and shook it gently. The fish responded with another battery-powered flop, flinging itself dramatically off his hand and landing belly-up like it was acting in a soap opera.
He sighed deeply, dragging both hands down his face.
Only now did it really hit him just how insane some of his past draws had been. Back when he was messing around in the C-tier pool, he'd gotten all sorts of broken items. Delicious Powder. The Negative Emotion Collection Potion. Things that were actually useful—even if they came with names that sounded like rejected energy drinks.
But this? This B-tier nightmare?
It was a B-tier financial disaster.
David leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling like it owed him an apology. "A hundred thousand negative emotion points. Gone. And for what? A zombie fish, steroid pills for cows, Pokémon perfume, and a loaf of sentient toast."
He was so disappointed, even the system was mining emotion points from his soul at this point.
And it wasn't just the disappointment. It was the crushing realization that his stash of negative emotion points was now utterly drained. Wiped. Zeroed. Completely bankrupt.
The only thing worse than pulling garbage items from a gacha system… was doing it with your last hundred grand in the emotional bank.
He knew he wouldn't be able to gather that many negative points again anytime soon. Not without the help of those potions or powders he got lucky with before. And the thought of trying to manually harvest negative emotions?
"Ha," he said out loud to no one. "Yeah, lemme just go around annoying people one by one until they cry."
His eyes twitched. "Actually, don't tempt me. I might."
Still slouched on the couch, David scooped up the "usable" fish again and lazily tossed it across the room. It smacked into a basketball jersey hanging on a chair and bounced onto the floor, flopping weakly in protest.
The fish was so realistic that, for a second, he almost felt bad. Then it started vibrating like a possessed sausage and he changed his mind.
"Nah, the nun was right. This thing is cursed."
He opened his inventory and scrolled through the rest of his spoils. Memory toast? Eh, maybe useful. Sexy bull pills? Absolutely not. Not unless he planned on becoming a centaur-themed OnlyFans star.
Eventually, he sighed and accepted his fate.
David, the proud owner of a sexy aura, a dancing fish, and toast that taught you calculus.
This was his life now.
He stood, brushed chip crumbs off his hoodie, and looked at the pile of questionable items with the grim determination of a man who'd seen things—deeply uncomfortable things—and lived to tell the tale.
"…Alright," he muttered. "Fine. I'll keep 'em. Maybe one day, I'll find a use for this stuff."
The fish flopped dramatically behind him.
David: [The nun was right.jpg]
David stared at the glowing scroll in his hand like it was the golden ticket to Wonka's secret lab—except instead of chocolate, it upgraded shiny magical rocks. Not exactly dream fuel for kids, but for a Pokémon trainer? Oh yeah, this was jackpot territory.
It was the Secret Treasure Promotion Scroll, and according to the system, this thing could directly upgrade a secret treasure to the next tier. No side quests. No grinding. No sacrificing three Magikarp under a full moon. Just bam, instant upgrade. System does all the work while David stands around looking smug. Which, to be fair, was his best skill.
"This… might be the best thing I've pulled since I accidentally tripped into that C-tier pool and somehow won a legendary lunchbox," David muttered to himself.
He glanced over at his inventory, eyes landing on the humble Fire Stone he'd pulled ages ago. Currently classified as a low-tier secret treasure, the thing was worth maybe 800,000 or 900,000 Alliance coins on a good day. But if he used this scroll to upgrade it all the way to mid-tier? Suddenly, we're talking ten million Alliance coins. Minimum.
And that's if he could find someone willing to sell it—because mid-tier Fire Stones were so rare, they might as well be considered fantasy items.
So naturally, David immediately—did not use it.
"No way," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not wasting this on a glorified rock."
Smartest thing he'd said all day.
The scroll only had a 30% success rate, which—knowing David's luck—meant he'd probably just set it on fire by accident. The guy could trip on a Poké Ball and miss throwing it at a Snorlax. His fortune level was somewhere between "cursed" and "reverse Midas."
He sighed. "Nope. Gonna save this. Wait for something mid-tier and valuable. Like a Moon Stone. Or maybe the soul of a tax-free accountant."
With that decision locked in, David turned his attention to the Rejuvenation Pill—another item from the B-tier draw, and frankly, the only one he was remotely excited about.
As long as you were still breathing, this pill could heal you. Human or Pokémon, didn't matter. Broke your leg falling off a cliff? Pop the pill. Got tackled by an angry Tauros? Take the pill. Accidentally blew yourself up experimenting with a toaster and Rotom? Pill.
"This is the kind of item you marry," David said solemnly, cradling the glowing capsule like it was his newborn child. "This is safety. This is peace of mind. This is… basically Pokémon insurance."
And for someone like David—who had a bad habit of wandering into danger zones like he was born without a fear gland—this was a godsend.
Of course, no weird system draw would be complete without something slightly cursed. Enter: the Charm Value MAX Aura (Pokémon Edition).
Now, David wasn't the kind of guy to brag, but he knew he wasn't a swamp goblin. In fact, if you caught him in good lighting, he could even pass for a discount movie star. But this aura? This took "good with Pokémon" and cranked it up to "might accidentally start a harem of Machokes."
The description alone was enough to make him physically recoil.
"Warning: Do not activate this aura near groups of Machamps. You've been warned."
"I… what? Why is that even in the disclaimer!?" David whispered, traumatized by the thought alone. "What happened during testing? Who wrote this? Who survived to write this?!"
Bad memories surfaced. The Mother Machamp Incident. The Big Root Gardevoir Affair. Things he never wanted to think about again.
Still, curiosity itched at the back of his brain like a Joltik stuck in his hoodie. He hadn't tested the aura yet. What if it was all exaggeration? Maybe it wasn't that bad.
So, naturally, he did what any idiot in his position would do.
He turned it on.
Then he turned to his two innocent test subjects—er, partners—on the couch: Ralts, currently dressed in a maid costume for reasons best left unexplained, and Pikachu, who was channel surfing like a middle-aged dad.
David put on his most charming grin. "Pikachu, be honest with me—do I look extra handsome today?"
Pikachu looked him up and down like he'd just asked if onions were mammals. His face was blank. Expressionless. Pure judgment in a tiny yellow body.
And then?
"Oh, pooh!"
Pikachu spat at him. Actually spat.
Then calmly turned back to the TV like David no longer existed.
[Obtained Negative Emotion Value +30 from David…]
[Obtained Negative Emotion Value +40 from David…]
[Obtained Negative Emotion Value +50 from David…]
David sat on the couch in defeat, aura still glowing pathetically around him like a discount romance novel cover. The system kept logging points, but at what cost?
"…Y'know," he muttered. "Maybe I should've just bought a snack with those hundred thousand points."
David was still sulking.
No amount of system pop-ups or shiny loot could cheer him up—not after getting spat on by his own Pikachu. That kind of betrayal cuts deep.
But he wasn't done yet.
Still refusing to admit defeat, he crept toward Ralts like he was sneaking up on a wild Caterpie. He leaned in close—tooclose—and in a soft, suspiciously sweet voice that sounded nothing like him, he whispered near her ear:
"Ralts… do you think I'm different today?"
Ralts blinked, startled, her big eyes locking onto David's face. She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to decode the mystery. And then—miracle of miracles—she blushed.
Her cheeks turned a soft pink, and she started nervously fiddling with the hem of her tiny maid skirt, her little hands twisting the fabric like it owed her money.
David's brain lit up like a casino jackpot.
"Oh my God, it works," he muttered under his breath. "I actually look... charming?"
The pieces started clicking together in his mind like a Machoke assembling IKEA furniture.
Pikachu, of course, was system-issued. It came pre-loaded with full loyalty and affection. The charm aura didn't affect it because it was already maxed out—like trying to pour more water into an overflowing cup. But Ralts? Ralts was a genuine wild Pokémon he had captured. Their bond wasn't built-in. So, the aura was doing something.
"Which means... this thing can increase affection levels with wild Pokémon!" David exclaimed triumphantly. "I might be a walking charisma grenade now!"
This changed everything. If wild Pokémon were naturally drawn to him thanks to the aura, that meant fewer surprise ambushes, easier captures, and maybe—just maybe—he could walk through a wild Beedrill nest without ending up looking like a human pincushion.
But then his thoughts took a darker turn.
"Wait," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "If this charm works on all wild Pokémon... what if I accidentally end up attracting something cursed? Like... a Machamp?"
His entire body froze at the thought.
A vision flashed through his mind: A shirtless, swole Machamp slowly approaching him with glistening muscles and an unsettling twinkle in its eye.
David visibly shuddered.
"If that thing even thinks about flexing at me, I'm eating frozen tofu and jumping off a bridge. No hesitation."
Horrified but newly enlightened, David finally turned his attention to the most mysterious and ridiculous item in his loot pile:
Memory Toast.
Now, this one looked suspiciously familiar. The moment he saw it, he had flashbacks to that old cartoon with the blue robotic cat who had a pocket full of chaos—and this toast? It was exactly the same as that weird anime item.
Instructions were simple: slap some writing on the toast, eat it, and the knowledge gets absorbed straight into your brain like instant noodles.
"Wait a second…" David squinted at the instructions. "This is literally anime cheat food. The system is looting other dimensions!"
He paused.
"Wait. If I eat this after eating something sketchy—like... spoiled burritos—will I forget everything, including the trauma?"
The more he thought about it, the more cursed potential this item had.
But knowing the system, it probably nerfed the dangerous parts. Hopefully. Maybe. Probably?
He started thinking back to earlier items too—like the Delicious Powder from before, which now also seemed suspiciously anime-inspired.
"This system isn't a vending machine—it's Doraemon with a gambling addiction," David muttered.
Then, like a true moron, he had a sudden, brilliant idea.
"What if... what if I draw a Mega Saiyan Blood Capsule one day?"
He imagined himself powering up mid-battle, hair turning spiky gold, shirtless for no reason, shouting dramatic nonsense while Pikachu just stood in the background eating chips.
"Forget being a Trainer—I'll be the main character! Let Pikachu stand on the sidelines with a clipboard while I fight the Pokémon!"
He froze.
"...Wait, that can't be right."
David scratched his head, and with that brief existential crisis concluded, he moved on to the final prize from his latest haul:
Intermediate Durable Booster Pill.
He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It looked... oddly familiar. Like one of those questionable pills advertised on sketchy websites that played loud pop-ups at 3am.
"Okay, what even is this?" he asked aloud.
According to the description, the pill granted Extraordinary Stamina for a short time.
David rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out.
"Wow, thanks. Truly. I could've gotten anything. A golden Poké Ball. A rare evolution item. Heck, even another fish that flops around when you touch it. But no. I get Pokémon Viagra."
He shook his head.
"I already have extraordinary stamina! I jogged three miles this morning without collapsing—or, well, I watched someone jog three miles. Same thing."
[Obtained Negative Emotion Value +20 from David…]
[Obtained Negative Emotion Value +30 from David…]
[Obtained Negative Emotion Value +40 from David…]
He stared at the pill in disgust.
"Honestly, I'd rather have gotten one of those 'thank you for participating' notes. At least that doesn't make me question my life choices."
And with that, David slumped onto the couch, surrounded by a pile of questionable items, cursed loot, and a Pikachu who still refused to look him in the eye.
Just another day in the life of a man powered by sarcasm, bad luck, and the occasional glowing scroll.
****
David was still trying to save face. Which, considering how Pikachu had just humiliated him with a phlegmy "Ptoo!" earlier, was like trying to glue together a broken ego with bubblegum.
He puffed up his chest, stood tall in front of the sofa where Pikachu was lounging like a tiny yellow mafia boss, and declared in his most dignified voice:
"Pikachu, let's be reasonable here! That pill—yes, that one—is completely useless to someone like me!"
Pikachu blinked slowly, unimpressed.
David continued, waving his arms for dramatic effect. "Do you know what kind of peak physical condition I'm in? I've got natural stamina! I could jog three blocks without dying! I'm basically a Greek statue. Except, y'know… alive. And with Wi-Fi."
"Pika… Pi?" Pikachu tilted his head, clearly baffled. Either he didn't follow, or he was mentally filing paperwork to be adopted by a saner Trainer.
David was too busy delivering his Oscar-worthy monologue to notice.
"I mean," he pressed on, "if this wasn't for the rear chassis—you know, my backside—I'd have tossed this pill out the window already! But since it's for recovery and bodily well-being, it's fine! I'm only taking it for health reasons!"
Then, like a man trying very hard to convince himself that he wasn't making terrible decisions, David shoved the pill in his mouth with all the grace of someone eating a suspicious gas station hot dog.
He grimaced.
"Yep. Doing it for my body. No other motives. None at all. Totally normal. Ha ha."
[David: (〃｀3〃) [guilt .jpg]]
Because nothing screams "I'm innocent" like nervously eating a mysterious pill while talking to a sentient electric rat who thinks you're insane.
But hey, durability did sound kinda romantic. "Endurance is key," David muttered as he swallowed, "and also the foundation of any strong relationship… with cardio."
Just as the last traces of dignity evaporated from his body, David noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
Sitting neatly on the sofa cushion like a gift from the heavens was a shiny red and white capsule.
"Oh?" David perked up. "What's this? Poké-flavored Tic Tacs?"
He picked it up and examined it.
"Oh wait. Duh. This is the Ability Capsule the system gave me."
These babies were rare. Real collector's items. They allowed you to switch a Pokémon's ability to another one from its legal pool. Sadly, you couldn't slap Levitate on Snorlax and call it a day.
"You can't just give Charizard Dry Skin ," David said with a snort. "That's illegal. Funny as hell, but illegal."
He held the capsule up dramatically. "This might actually be the most valuable item I pulled today."
His mind immediately jumped into overdrive, rattling off possibilities like a Pokédex on espresso:
"Speed Boost Blaziken? Disgusting. I love it. Naysayer Serperior? Yes, please. Gale Wings Talonflame? Instant chicken missile. Intimidate Incineroar? Pure wrestling dad energy. Grassy Surge Rillaboom? That's some eco-friendly slap power right there."
The capsule shimmered in his hand, full of potential and mischief.
David turned his gaze toward Pikachu, then Ralts, switching back and forth like a kid trying to choose between ice cream flavors.
"Do I use it on you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the pair.
Pikachu yawned and picked up the TV remote.
Ralts continued to blush softly in the corner, still affected by the charm aura and not entirely sure why she suddenly found David slightly less annoying than usual.
David sighed.
"No offense, but neither of you are exactly Ability-reliant. Even if I switched your abilities, it's not like you're suddenly going to start wrecking tournaments."
Ralts blinked innocently.
Pikachu changed the channel to a cooking show.
David tossed the capsule in his hand a few times before pocketing it with a satisfied nod.
"Alright. We save this bad boy for someone truly worthy. Like… a Garchomp with Thick fat. Or a Slaking with Vital Spirit—oh my god, that'd be illegal."
His eyes lit up.
"Imagine a Slaking that doesn't nap during battle. That's not a Pokémon. That's a war crime."
He stared off into the distance, imagining the chaos. Norman would cry. Allain would scream.
And David?
David would laugh.
"This… This is power," he whispered, practically drooling.
But for now, it was too early to use it. He didn't have the right Pokémon yet. So the Ability Capsule went into his inventory vault, tucked safely next to the charm aura, memory toast, and his slowly fading shame.
With all that sorted, David stood in his living room, surrounded by chaos, confused Pokémon, and a growing pile of items that made him question whether the system was helping him become a better Trainer… or a walking lawsuit.
But hey, progress is progress.
Right?
Right??
David was finishing up sorting through his bizarre collection of new trainer items—which, at this point, included an Ability Capsule, a suspiciously romantic stamina pill, and what might've been a cursed toaster. He didn't know how, but somehow this was his life now.
Outside, the sky had turned from a dusty orange to a deep, rich indigo. Stars speckled the heavens like glitter thrown by an overenthusiastic child, and the moon cast a soft silver light through the half-closed curtains of David's room. It was the kind of poetic night that made people write love songs or tweet about how single they were under the stars.
The moonlight fell across David's face in a way that—if this were a movie—would've made him look like a tragic hero deep in thought.
Unfortunately, this wasn't a movie.
Because David, in all his unfiltered glory, suddenly broke the serene silence by yelling:
"PIKACHU! The power's out again! Run faster, we've got zero bars in here!"
Pikachu, strapped into a hamster wheel-style generator David found online for "scientific purposes," looked up at him with tears in his eyes.
[Pikachu: ╥﹏╥ [Crying.jpg]]
Somewhere, a hotline was being dialed. Hello, Pokémon Protection Services? Yes, we have a situation.
The poor yellow rodent kept running, sparking electricity like a portable thunderstorm, while David lounged on the sofa, completely unbothered, scrolling through his phone like a villain in a teen drama.
Just then, he noticed something weird—his normally dead class group chat had a shiny new badge: (99+).
"Wow. Either the world's ending or someone sent a meme that actually hit," he muttered, curiosity piqued.
He tapped in.
To his surprise, it was chaos. The group chat, usually drier than a desert Sandshrew, was now a photo dump of everyone showing off their starter Pokémon. Charmanders were everywhere, Squirtles flexed like blue muscle tanks, and of course, the group was infested with the dreaded menace: Garlic Bastards. Also known as Bulbasaurs.
A few outliers had more exotic picks—Torchics, Treeckos, and some poor soul with a Chikorita. ("Yikes," David whispered.)
But then, like a jump scare in a horror movie, he saw his favorite idiot.
"Jake…" David squinted.
Yes, it was that Jake. The guy who once racked up negative emotional points like he was speedrunning it. A walking ego wrapped in a school uniform.
Jake had been spamming the group, tagging David like he was summoning a demon.
[JAKE: @David Everyone's got their starter Pokémon already. Where's yours? Trying to be a trainer without a Pokémon? Good luck, buddy!]
To accompany his verbal flexing, Jake had uploaded several photos of himself with his Bulbasaur—posing with sunglasses, flexing beside a dumbbell, one where it looked like Bulbasaur was helping him cook. David had to zoom in to confirm that yes, the "Garlic Bastard" was wearing a tiny chef's hat.
"Did… did he stage a cooking montage?" David muttered, disgusted and impressed at the same time.
Jake's messages continued.
Apparently, thanks to "family connections" (aka rich daddy syndrome), Jake had gotten his starter a full month early. His Bulbasaur was already level 9, trained up with care, protein shakes, and maybe a few pilates sessions. It looked bigger and beefier than the ones other students were just receiving today.
Basically, it was a Bulbasaur on creatine.
David stared at it for a moment. It was indeed a very healthy-looking Garlic Bastard.
Then he blinked. "Wait. This is Jake. What am I doing?"
A wicked smile slowly curled on his lips. He cracked his knuckles like he was logging into a digital battlefield.
He started typing.
[Bloody Dark King: Your garlic bastard looks expensive. Must be talented, huh?]
He didn't roast. He didn't troll. Not yet. He complimented. It was the calm before the storm. The sweet poison that makes the trap all the more delicious.
The group chat went dead silent.
You could almost hear the digital gasp.
Everyone in the class knew this play. It was the same thing that happened during the Great Garlic Bastard Flame War last week, when David reduced half the class to existential tears with a single photo of Ralts looking mildly disappointed in their Pokémon choices.
The students wisely chose to stay quiet. They knew what was coming. The ones with a survival instinct quietly turned off notifications and hid under digital tables.
But Jake, sweet, naïve Jake, walked right into it.
[JAKE: Nah, not that expensive. Just over three million Alliance coins. The breeder said it's probably Gym-level or even Elite-ranked. Nothing special.]
David raised an eyebrow.
"Three million… for a salad frog?"
He didn't reply. He simply uploaded a picture.
It was him.
Standing confidently, arms crossed, with Pikachu on one side looking exhausted but powerful, and Ralts on the other looking like she was about to be late to her ballet recital.
No filters. No special effects. Just pure, raw flex.
The silence that followed in the group chat wasn't just silence. It was the digital equivalent of everyone dropping their phones and slowly backing away from the blast radius.
Jake, bless him, still hadn't realized he'd just poked a sleeping Gyarados.
And David?
He just leaned back on the couch, took a bite of a granola bar that was definitely not granola, and waited.
The fireworks were about to begin.