Inthe early evening, there was already a chill in the air around Spikemuth, a town covered in chaotic graffiti.


    Inside the tall fences, remnants of abandoned factoriesloomed in the center, with music and bright neonlights filling the air, catching the attentionof most people.


    In a narrow alley, some distance away from the fences, foul-smelling black water flowed from a pile of garbage onto the street. Among the pile of garbage laya young man, covered in blood.


    His black hairwas barely visible, and his body looked somewhat muscular.


    He frowned, struggling to open his eyes. But the flashing lights andthe stench kept irritating his senses.


    His name was Jaxon. After being hit by a truck in his old world, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he found himself here.


    ‘Where am I?’Jaxon looked around, not realizing he had transmigrated. The smell of motor oil from the truck still lingered in his mind.


    Who wouldthink that waking up in an unfamiliar place meanttransmigration? Jaxon thought someone musthave dragged him here while he was unconscious.


    He checkedforhis phone and keys, but they were gone. Hisclothes were different too. He quickly realizedthat the person who dragged him here had also taken his clothes and money.


    "Who does something like this..." Jaxon muttered, wiping the sticky substance off his face, gently tapping his still aching head, and using the trashbeneath him to push himself up.


    But as soon as he tried to move, sharp pain shot through his arm, and his legs didn’t cooperate. Jaxon knewhe''d been hit by a truck, so he expected thiskind of pain.


    Using sheer willpower, Jaxon leaned against the pile of trash, unsteadily standing up and trembling as he walked toward the end of the alley.


    He couldn’tstay in such a filthy place any longer; the smell was enough to choke him. His top priority nowwas to find a police officer or ask a kind stranger for help.


    ''Once I get to the police station, they’ll send me to the hospital. That should solve everything…''Jaxon thought to himself.


    Suddenly, the dizziness in his head deepened, forcing him to lean on a rusted metal roll-up door and stop to recover.


    Unfamiliar scenes kept flashing in his mind, and the littlecreatures, both familiar and strange, made himdoubt what he was seeing.


    He had actually arrived in the world of Pokémon!


    However, this wasn’t a relaxing utopia—it was a harsh world where survival required constant struggle.


    Here, hisname was also Jaxon. His father was a member of Team Yell, a respected team leader who was said to be up for a promotion soon. But just two daysago, news arrived that his father had died during a failed mission.


    Once the news spread and was confirmed, a Team Yell underling led a group to his house, looting itand taking the Zigzagoon his father had left for him.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Jaxon, full of youthful defiance, wasn’t satisfied with thisand tried to find his father’s old friends for help. But as soon as he stepped outside, the people who had stolen his Pokémon beat him up and threwhim into the trash heap.


    ‘Such bad luck... for both of us.’Jaxon couldn’t help but laugh as he processed the information.


    However, for him, the chance to live again, and in the Pokémon world at that, was still incredibly valuable.


    Just then,a few unkempt people walked down the street, sandwiched between the two abandoned factories.


    They frequently glanced at Jaxon, who was resting against the door by the roadside, and started to gossip:


    "Isn’t that Jaxon?"


    "I heardhis dad died, his Pokémon got stolen, and he justgot beat up..."


    "Seriously? Aren’t there two others who went through the same thing? They were all on the same team. But it’s none of our business. Let’s go, or we’llbe late."


    "Right, let’s go. I wonder what Pokémon it is this time. If it''s just one or two and someone else gets to it first, we''re screwed…”


    While speaking, the boys quickly ran off.


    Jaxon only glanced at them briefly, not paying much attention.


    Thosepeople were the lowest tier in Spikemuth, with neither official League status nor membership in Team Yell. They were often struggling toeven get a meal, let alone own a Pokémon. Theycouldn’t even touch a Poké Ball. Jaxon didn’t havemuch information about people like them from his memories.


    Now, he needed to head home, following the path in his memories.


    He aimed to getto a relatively safe and clean place,rest his body, and then figure out his next steps.


    His father, being a member of Team Yell, likely left behind some money and a few Poké Balls.


    These should serve as his rookie starter pack.


    By now, the night was in full swing, and the neon lights in Spikemuth’s sky flickered erratically, their colorful beams flashing wildly, as if trying to painton the dark canvas of the night.


    The loud rock music echoed from the central area.


    It was the son of theSpikemuth Gym Leader, Piers, holding his regularconcert.


    As amember of Team Yell, one of their duties was to support the sonof the Gym Leader.


    It was said that Piers,worried about the decline of his hometown, cameup with the idea of music to try to revitalize it. Andnow, he had indeed gained quite a following,though most of his fans were from Spikemuth itself.


    Jaxon walked west and finally passed through thedilapidated street surrounded by warehouses and abandoned factories, arriving at a residential area that wasrelativelytidy.


    It was a bit far from the concert in the central area, but it was peaceful. On both sides of the street were neatly arranged houses with white wallsand red roofs.


    Following the direction he remembered, Jaxon headed toward one house, opened the unlocked courtyard gate, and walked in.


    Inside, the house was eerily quiet. The heavy black wooden door was half-open.


    At the same time, Jaxon remembered that he hadn’t felt his keys on him.Now, with the courtyard gate wide open andthe house door also not closed, a bad feeling crept up on him.


    It was very likely that the people who had beaten him up had also stolen hiskeys, and now they mightbe inside, ransacking his house.


    If they hadn’t left after robbing him, wouldn’t he get beaten again?


    Jaxon stopped in the dark courtyard, staring at the silent door. He decided to approach slowly.


    He first crept to the side of the wall next to the door, listening quietly for a while. When he heard nothing, he gently entered the house.


    If thosepeople were still inside, they would either be noisy or already asleep. If they were asleep, Jaxon planned to sneak in and check.


    The house had two floors.


    The first floor was a mess. The cotton stuffing from the sofa had beenpulled out and scattered across the floor, andeverything from chairs to decorations had beendestroyed or torn apart.


    This made Jaxon relax alittle.


    Since the burglars wereso violent in dismantling the house, it was highlyunlikely they had plans to stay. They were justthere to steal things.


    He cautiously climbed the stairs to the second floor,checking each room in disarray before finally confirming that no one was there.


    However, Jaxon’s expected rookie starter pack was alsogone.


    After coming down and locking the door, he walked intothe relatively clean bathroom.


    He tidied his face and changed clothes, then lay down on thebed in a room on the second floor, which was messywith scattered blankets.


    He quickly fellasleep, but in a half-awake state, he heard faintknocking on the door.