“Name: Lorze.
Specialty: Capable of deep communication with Ghost-type Pokémon; proficient in the functional reactivation of certain life forms after the loss of primary vital signs.”
Lorze felt he had written this rather rigorously, even maintaining a sense of academic humility.
After all, if he had bluntly written, “Necromancer, excels at chatting up ghosts, and can make dead bones stand up and rave,” it would be far too shocking for this world to stomach.
But upon reading the flamboyant handwriting on Lorze’s application, a small crease formed on the smooth forehead of the auditor, Nurse Joy Jing.
She looked up at the young man across from her, noting his flawlessly sculpted, handsome face.
It was a damn shame, she thought, that his mental state seemed completely out of whack.
“Umm, Mr.
Lorze, the specialties you filled out are…
highly creative.”
“You flatter me.
They are merely trivial skills, hardly worth mentioning!”
“But please forgive my bluntness.
The recruitment event currently being held in Lilycove City aims to select outstanding candidates who are mentally healthy and positive, capable of forming wholesome bonds with Pokémon.
Therefore, I cannot approve your Pokémon application.
Please seek a career path that better suits your…
unique talents.”
“Nurse Joy, please, allow me to demonstrate—”
“Oh, right!
I can personally recommend a renowned local psychiatrist.
You should really go have a chat with him when you find the time.”
Without letting him finish, Joy Jing handed over a business card!
Lorze gave it a polite, cursory glance, casually slipped it into his black trench coat pocket, and turned to walk out of the Lilycove City Pokémon Center.
“What a bloody waste.
If I could have just secured a Pokémon through the official application, things would be infinitely easier.
Fortunately, while the energy structures of the two worlds differ, I can still wield necromancy.
It just so happens that Mt.
Pyre is right here near Lilycove City.
I can head over there and see if any Ghost-type Pokémon are willing to follow me.
But reality isn’t a damn video game, and since I’m new in town, I should probably track down a local ghost to gather some intel first.”
As Lorze pondered this, he closed his eyes.
When he snapped them open, they pulsed with an eerie, spectral blue light!
…
That’s right.
Lorze had transmigrated to the Pokémon world, but this wasn’t his first rodeo with isekai bullshit!
Originally just an ordinary high school student on Earth, he accidentally crossed over into a magical realm, dropping right into a kingdom infested with morbid Necromancers.
Soon after, he was forcibly conscripted into the local Deathsong Academy, becoming a Necromancer’s apprentice.
Apprentices were treated like absolute dogshit.
If they couldn’t commune with the Underworld and summon a genuine undead creature to bind within three years, they would be deemed worthless and brutally refined into mindless zombies or vengeful wraiths by the Academy.
Lorze busted his ass cultivating there for two and a half years, yet he remained stalled just shy of the threshold for becoming a formal mage.
Driven to desperation under the crushing pressure, he forcefully executed a cross-realm summoning spell.
The altar’s teleportation energy went completely haywire, and when he opened his eyes again, he was an undocumented immigrant in the Pokémon world.
Relying on the formidable mental fortitude forged from his magic cultivation, Lorze rapidly mastered the language of this world.
He then learned that Lilycove City was hosting an event to distribute starter Pokémon to commoners who passed the screening.
Initially, Lorze wanted to use this loophole to score a Pokémon, but sadly, it was a bust.
Now, he had to figure out another fucking way.
Probing with his spiritual sense for a moment, several blurry figures oozing a sinister, ghostly aura swiftly materialized in his sea of consciousness.
Following the trail, Lorze arrived at the base of a gloomy, abandoned building.
He discovered that what had drawn him in were three ghosts hovering off the ground.
They were a macabre skull, a ragged doll swaying gently in the wind, and a phantom with disembodied hands.
As a veteran Pokémon fan, Lorze recognized them at a glance: a Duskull, a Banette, and a Haunter.
At this moment, they were circling a critically mangled, fox-like Pokémon, chattering away with sinister “Kekekeke~” chuckles.
The fox was drenched in blood, its bones sickeningly twisted into a grotesque, wretched display.
It stubbornly clung to its last, ragged breath, seemingly desperate to cry out, but its mangled, deformed jaw could no longer make a sound.
Haunter drifted above it, reaching down to rip a fistful of pitch-black mist from its body.
Rolling it into the shape of a cigar, Haunter pinched it between two floating fingers, took a massive, greedy drag, and casually flicked the ash like a fucking mob boss.
“Look at this!
Just look at it!
The resentment is off the fucking charts.
This’ll keep the boys fed and high for days.
The concentration, the quality—pure as hell, fresh off the carcass.”
“But boss, how did this little fox get so royally fucked up?
Who dumped it here?”
“Tch, I actually saw it happen just now.
Some vicious-looking human trashed it here like a piece of garbage.
Scared the living shit out of me.”
“But boss, you’re literally just a soul already!”
“Yeah, boss, and you can already fly!”
“Oh, right.
Never mind then.
Let’s dig in!”
“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt.
Do you happen to know why that person tortured this Pokémon?”
“What kind of fucking ghost are you?!
Why do you look so human?”
Startled by Lorze’s sudden appearance, Duskull and Shuppet quivered in their spectral forms.
Only Haunter managed to keep its cool and ask the question.
“My name is Lorze.
This Pokémon appears to be a Zorua.
I’m utterly baffled as to what kind of monster would torture it into this state.”
“Keke~ You’re a human who can actually understand our ghost talk.
But you don’t seriously think you can still save this thing, do you?”
Lorze scrutinized the creature, finding Zorua gasping its last breaths, yet radiating an incredibly dense aura of sheer malice.
If this were his old magical world, it would mutate into a vicious Poltergeist in no time.
Lorze’s expression softened with pity.
It reminded him of the grueling two years he had spent living in constant terror among those ruthless Necromancers, suffocating under colossal psychological torment.
He hadn’t been able to finally breathe until he arrived in this civilized, modern Pokémon world.
But he never expected that even a world as idyllic and utopian as this one was not entirely safe.
Hell, some of the people here were no different from the vile Necromancers of the magical realm.
For some reason, in Lorze’s eyes, the image of this battered Zorua began to merge with the reflection of his past self in the magical world.
If he hadn’t miraculously stumbled into this world, his fate might have been far more gruesome than this.
A flood of unbearable, horrific memories assaulted his mind, sending a sharp shiver down Lorze’s spine, fracturing the brief peace he had just found.
He felt a profound, bleeding empathy for the Zorua.
Lorze wanted to save it, but his hand froze midway!
Not a single inch of Zorua’s body remained intact.
It was being held together by nothing but a defiant, bitter grudge; otherwise, it would have been dead long ago.
Forget dragging it to a Pokémon Center now; even if Nurse Joy herself were standing right here, she wouldn’t be able to do shit to bring it back.
“Phew~ Stop wasting your damn energy.
It’s too far gone to save!” Haunter took one final, deep drag, finishing off the ‘cigar.’
“You humans just exploit our power anyway.
You’ve never treated us like actual family.
Don’t put on this hypocritical song and dance for a ghost.”
“You seem to have a massive chip on your shoulder regarding humans.
I won’t deny that pieces of shit like that exist.
However, I feel a deep connection with this one.
If its previous master wasn’t fit to protect it, then I will step up and become its Trainer.”
“What the fuck!
Dude, are you fucking with us ghosts?!
Do you really think it can still—”
Before Haunter could finish, Lorze began chanting in an obscure, arcane tongue.
He pointed a finger at Zorua, firing off a beam of spectral blue light.
Bang!
An incredibly faint, nearly transparent phantom tore itself away from Zorua’s mangled corpse.
It hovered in utter bewilderment.
Its shape mirrored its living form, yet it was so violently fragile it looked like a stiff breeze would scatter it to oblivion.
In the next fraction of a second, the suffocating, pitch-black resentment suffocating the air found a release valve, swarming madly into Zorua’s phantom shell!
The phantom’s silhouette sharpened drastically, its colors and form mutating wildly.
It seemed to soak in a sickly pale hue, like the faded glow of a dead moon, while its neck, head, and tail were smeared with a vicious, blood-red stain.
“Holy fucking shit, he actually did pull off a miracle for the ghosts.”
…