That's right, this was the core highlight of Leaf Town's festivities.
After the Tauros Chase and the Tauros Battles concluded, a Pokémon Trade Fair would be held continuously from 8:00 p.m. tonight until noon tomorrow!
On the wide streets, aside from the middle-aged man and young woman beside Silas, there were many other Trainers as well.
Without exception, they all conspicuously displayed several Poké Balls in the most eye-catching places.
Some wandered about, searching for suitable partners and Pokémon they liked; others stopped in one spot and loudly called out their offers.
The atmosphere throughout Leaf Town was extraordinarily lively.
Although it was late at night, it was as bright as day.
That said, in truth, most of these Trainers weren't professionals at all.
For example, the group not far away wearing various Pokémon-themed outfits—
They were Pokémon enthusiasts known as Monster Maniacs.
The Pokémon they used were mostly common members of the Monster Egg Group, such as Cubone, Lickitung, Rhydon, and Nidoran♂.
The name Monster Maniac came from this exact preference.
Then there were Fishermen, carrying fishing rods and tackle, whose Pokémon were mostly aquatic.
There were also Jugglers who raised Voltorb, Sailors in naval uniforms, Gamblers who liked commanding Pokémon to use probability-based moves, Electricians wearing safety helmets and tool belts who specialized in Electric-type Pokémon, and many more besides.
Not to mention the most common types—Bug Catchers and Hikers.
Rather than Trainers, in Silas's view, most of them were simply Pokémon lovers at best.
A simple explanation using numbers made this clear.
According to the Pokémon League's latest Trainer Registry released earlier this year, counting even officially registered Trainers who had already passed away, the total number of recognized Trainers had surpassed 150 million.
What did that mean?
Roughly speaking, the permanent population of the Kanto region alone was about 80 million.
Other known regions were more or less similar.
In other words, even without precise statistics, factoring in scattered regions like the Orange Islands, Alola, Galar, as well as Fiore, Almia, and Oblivia, the total population of the Pokémon world was roughly 600 to 700 million.
Even assuming, very generously,that 100 million registered Trainers were still alive (the real number was certainly lower),
That meant roughly one out of every six or seven people was a Trainer.
At that ratio, the so-called "value" of being a Trainer wasn't nearly as high as people imagined.
According to information Silas had read last year at Cape White, 95% of Trainers had not reached Advance level.
That included the "Trainers" standing right in front of him.
Most of them had no chance of ever participating in a regional conference.
In fact, even earning a single badge from a weak official Gym was something worth bragging about for them.
Of course, compared to the other five or six people out of every six or seven who weren't Trainers at all, even the most amateur Trainer still had respectable ability in Silas's eyes.
With that as the backdrop, Pokémon exchanges were proceeding briskly.
After all, rookies trading among rookies.
Still, Silas inevitably felt out of place among them.
Ralts munching on Pokéblocks atop his shoulder, paired with the unusually well-developed Blaziken standing beside him—
No matter where he went, even the densest Trainer refrained from proposing a trade.
Trades only existed when both sides were roughly equal.
Trading a Caterpie for a Ralts wasn't a trade.
It wasn't even robbery.
It was a dream.
Putting exchanges aside, the stalls selling Pokémon-related items that Silas passed along the way also failed to impress him.
Fortunately, he still had another option.
"Ral~"
Ralts lifted its head and let out a surprised cry upon seeing a familiar building.
What, were there battles to watch at night too?
The place Silas had arrived at was none other than the arena that hosted the male Tauros one-on-one battles earlier that afternoon.
Aside from serving as a battle venue, it also functioned as one of the few exchange halls reserved for Advance-level Trainers and above.
The guards at the entrance wisely opened the doors and let Silas straight in.
No explanation needed, Ralts and Blaziken were more than enough.
Once inside, the atmosphere was far calmer than outside.
After all, everyone here was someone of standing.
"Bug-type Trainers' must-have item, Metal Coat! Take a look! Don't miss it!"
"Anyone interested in Flareon? A powerhouse in same-type matchups!"
"A Magikarp that's already evolved into Gyarados, the ultimate shortcut to strength.
Of course, you'll need the ability to control it first!"
Though more restrained, various calls still echoed through the venue.
Even the finest wine fears a deep alley, if you don't shout, you won't gain attention.
There were exceptions.
For instance, the small stall surrounded by a crowd over there.
Curious, Silas walked closer.
It was a Pokémon Egg.
If he wasn't mistaken, it was a Gastly Egg.
Ralts frowned slightly and tugged at Silas's collar.
Although it was still just an Egg, the incompatibility between Psychic-type and Ghost-type energies was already faintly detectable.
From another angle, this also indicated that the Gastly Egg was the offspring of a wild Pokémon, not one bred by a human Trainer.
A Gastly Egg raised by a Trainer would never cause such strong discomfort to a Psychic-type Pokémon while still inside the shell.
The fundamental reason lay in differences in diet and energy absorption.
Silas glanced at Unit Zero's status panel, then turned and left without hesitation.
Advance-level at best—useless.
Seeing how decisively he walked away, the stall owner, who had been about to speak after spotting Ralts, could only abandon the thought.
Fair enough. With a Psychic-type already, why bother with a Ghost-type, let alone trade for one?
"What kind of Pokémon are you looking to trade for this Gastly Egg?"
Gradually, voices from the surrounding crowd began asking.
As for why Pokémon Eggs were allowed into the exchange fair at all, that was entirely due to their special nature.
After all, Pokémon already possessed awareness and could react while still inside their Eggs.
Because of that, people generally regarded Eggs as Pokémon themselves and naturally included them in trades.
"I don't like this."
After walking some distance, Ralts's voice echoed in Silas's mind.
Silas fell silent for a moment.
"Perhaps, for some Pokémon, this might actually be a good thing."
That was his answer.
Ralts nodded, half-understanding.
It could sense the sincerity of its Trainer.
"When you grow up, you might try finding the answer yourself. By then, you'll understand better why this is."
Silas gently patted its head.
There were no perfect solutions in this world—especially when humans were involved.
The League's ban on buying and selling Pokémon already went a long way toward protecting Pokémon rights.
But exchanges?
Those were almost impossible to forbid entirely.
Blaziken stood quietly nearby.
It didn't want to think about such complicated things.
All it knew was that Silas and the others would always be together.
That was enough.
"Let's go."
Seeing Blaziken standing still, mistaking it for deep thought just like Ralts, Silas patted its arm.
"Blaze."
Blaziken nodded.
As Silas haggled with various stall owners, Blaziken instinctively used its gaze to drive away clueless people who tried approaching Silas to ask about trading Pokémon.
It couldn't be helped, Ralts was simply far too conspicuous in a place like this.
That was precisely why Silas hadn't intended to bring any Pokémon out at first.
But since Ralts wanted to come, he couldn't disappoint the little one, could he?
Besides, it wasn't a big deal.
Before Silas had even finished browsing half the venue, nearly everyone already knew—
There was a Trainer here with a Ralts.
And he wasn't interested in trading.
"Hey, you—"
A distinctly disdainful voice rang out.
People nearby turned to look.
Who was asking for trouble here?
"I'm talking to you, the kid with the Ralts."
Silas sighed silently.
No need to look, he could tell just from the voice.
A classic case of a rich second-generation Pokémon idiot.
Reality was always stranger than fiction.
Self-important fools never ran out, no matter where you went.
Still, with the guy practically pointing at him, Silas had no choice but to respond.
"Go home and play with your Magikarp."
"Cough—"
Coughing sounds erupted all around.
The surrounding Trainers hadn't expected such a handsome guy to speak so bluntly.
Within the crowd, some people had already recognized who Silas was.
"Oh, this'll be good~"
They looked exactly like spectators who didn't mind chaos as long as it wasn't their problem.
And frankly, that was the truth.
The well-dressed rich kid's face flushed bright red.
But he still remembered why he had come.
"You—"
"No trade. Don't like it? Deal with it."
Silas cut him off cleanly.
"Y-you… do you know who I am?"
After stammering for a long time, the rich kid finally squeezed out a question so ridiculous it was almost laughable.
Silas didn't bother replying and instead shot Blaziken a glance.
Someone this mentally immature could only survive in the Pokémon world.
If people in this fantasy-filled world were even slightly more ruthless, someone like him wouldn't make it to adulthood.
Blaziken stepped forward without a word.
Intense flames ignited around its wrists.
The rich kid felt the searing heat, then looked up at Blaziken, nearly two heads taller than himself and swallowed hard.
"We're Trainers. We should settle this the Trainer way."
His voice lacked confidence.
The surrounding Trainers automatically cleared a battlefield.
The so-called "Trainer way" was simple:
A battle.
The winner had the right to speak.
Of course, that didn't mean the loser had to fulfill every demand.
But at the very least, if Silas lost, he wouldn't be able to ignore the other party like this.
But, was that even possible?
Blaziken curled a claw toward him, signaling him to begin.
Seeing Silas still turned away, the rich kid grit his teeth.
Looking down on me, huh?
So what if he made the Top 16 at the Silver Conference? I could do that too!
"Go! Feraligatr!"
He sneered and sent out his Pokémon.
As expected, it was Johto's Water-type starter.
"Feraligatr, use Water Gun!"
He waved his hand and launched the attack immediately.
At this distance, he didn't believe Blaziken could react in time.
This was a textbook Water-type versus Fire-type advantage.
"Boom—!"
Violent flames instantly spread from Blaziken's wrist, engulfing its entire claw.
Step forward.
Advance.
Strike.
The simple movement carried terrifying power.
Even though Water Gun naturally suppressed fire, the sheer difference in strength meant that, amid rising steam, Blaziken's flaming claw continued closing in on Feraligatr's wide-open jaws.
Cold sweat instantly poured down the rich kid's face.
It felt like he was sitting in a sauna—point-blank, maximum output.
More importantly, his heart was burning just as fiercely.
He couldn't understand it.
Why was fire overpowering water?
That made no sense.
A trace of disdain flashed through Blaziken's eyes.
That's it?
You're nowhere near the last one.
As for the splashing water droplets hitting its body?
They were nothing.
"Thud!"
Its leg shot out faster than the eye could follow.
"ROAR—!"
Feraligatr let out a muffled scream.
Water spilled uncontrollably from the gaps of its tightly shut jaws.
Blaziken had kicked its lower jaw shut mid-attack, forcibly closing its mouth.
Feraligatr didn't even have time to stop using Water Gun.
If its mouth hadn't been so large with gaps everywhere, it might have actually drowned itself. If that had happened, it would have been finished.
Psychological damage was often worse than physical pain.
But Blaziken didn't hesitate for even a moment.
Quick steps forward.
Knee up.
A flash of white light.
A vicious downward roundhouse kick tore through the air, leaving afterimages behind.
"BOOM—!"
The massive explosion drowned out every sound around them.
"Blaze."
Blaziken casually rolled its neck, then turned and walked back toward Silas.
Through its aura perception, Feraligatr had already lost consciousness.
As the smoke cleared, the rich kid, face alternating between pale and red, recalled Feraligatr and left the scene.
That at least earned a bit of Silas's approval.
The guy hadn't immediately blamed his Pokémon.
Silas felt that this was one of the Pokémon world's most reasonable rules.
The loser leaves.
As long as you had strength, nothing was a problem.
Seeing there was no more spectacle, the surrounding Trainers gradually dispersed.
They knew they had no way to "persuade" Silas into trading his Ralts, so there was no point lingering.
Time was valuable.
"…Why does this thing look so familiar?"
Silas was now staring intently at a silver-gray stone displayed at a stall.
"Oh—right. That thing."
He quickly remembered.
Wasn't this stone almost identical to the one he had found last year in the ruins he encountered on the road to Lavender Town?
The only difference was that this one had red speckles instead.
"I'll take this×2."
...
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