Bck Knight of Paldea

  Chapter 1

  ****BKP***

  Discimer: Do not own anything.

  ****BKP***

  June 25, 198 - Medali

  “Dee dee dee?”

  A nky, bck haired young man on the verge of full blown adulthood, with deep set bck onyx eyes stared at mid air with an inscrutable expression ughed humourlessly.

  His gaunt cheeks and deep dark circles under his eyes only emphasized the exhaustion that made him look like an overworked office worker on his third straight day of sleeping at the office.

  “Dee?” The fluffy creature asked as if wondering why he was ughing like that.

  The man pursed his lips, “It’s nothing Deedee.” He replied to the fluffy creature that was watching him with some concern, his voice was rough from disuse, “I was just wondering if it wasn’t too te for me to find a block of tofu and commit suicide or something.” He stated calmly. His eyes never straying from the semi-transparent, holographic…. He didn’t know what to call it, box? Window? Chat log?

  Whatever it was, it was hovering over a pte of freshly made, neon pink cubes, and there were words:

  Simply made Pink Pokeblock

  Quality: Low

  Fvour: Spicy, Sweet

  Affinity: Psychic

  Effects: A poke block carelessly made with just Occa Berries. Favoured by Psychic Pokémon who enjoy a spicy, sweet fvour. Subtly increases a Pokemon’s Special Attack.

  “Dee?!” The creature puffed up angrily, a strange look on the Pokémon. Her down turned horns, natural dark purple fur contrasted with the white accents made look like she was wearing a maid’s uniform and gave her a motherly, loving and gentle air, unless someone was trying to steal some of her chocotes or being an idiot.

  “It was a joke.” The man casually but reassuringly rubbed one of her puffed up cheeks.

  The female Indeedee, who had been with him for a long time, knew he had just been joking, thanks to her psychic affinity and ability to absorb his emotions.

  Unfortunately, joking about suicide, fell squarely in the “being an idiot” category.

  The Indeedee melted for a moment as the man scritched her cheek with just the right amount of force, before she shook it off and pouted at him again, “Mrgghh!”

  The raven haired man smiled somewhat helplessly before he thought of something, and considered the poke blocks again for a moment, the window did say the poke block was for Pyschic Pokémon, and Indeedee did have an affinity for sweet stuff.

  His decision made, he picked one up and held it up to her, “Wanna try one?”

  Indeedee eyed the Pokeblock and the man suspiciously, “Dee?”

  “It should be safe. Nothing in there except berries after all.” The man allowed, “It might just taste a little… weird?”

  Indeedee picked the proferred cube up with one small paw and she inspected it carefully, sniffing it a little. It smelt a little harsh, a bit like pepper, but with a sweet-ish undertone that she liked.

  To summarize, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the cube, but she knew that her trainer had been eyeing the pte of poke blocks with dead fisheyes like it had murdered his family and mentally raped his little brother, long enough for her to get worried and interrupt whatever he had been doing, and that made her a little wary.

  In the end, she carefully took a small nibble.

  The fluffy Pokémon swished that little bite around for a bit; the spiciness stung, but the sweet aftertaste only enhanced the overall fvour profile. Encouraged, Indeedee popped the rest of the cube into her small mouth and began happily chewing.

  Her trainer’s sunken cheeks quivered as he cracked a small smile at the sight of his Indeedee’s happy chewing face, “Looks like it tastes good, do you feel any different?”

  “Dee?”

  It’s a poke block. It wasn’t as if she had never eaten one of these before when she used to work at a Pokémon Centre. She had never felt any different after eating one then, and she didn’t feel any different after eating one now, and she told him so, “Dee dee.”

  Her trainer nodded gently and patted the Indeedee affectionately one more time before gently pushing the pte and the remaining Poke blocks over to her.

  Then he picked up the walking stick next to him and slowly limped over to the nearest couch.

  He let himself sink into the couch with a weary sigh.

  Assuming the window wasn’t lying about increasing a Pokemon’s Special Attack, he could deduce that Indeedee’s ck of reaction was probably a result of one of three things.

  The quality was too low for the effect to be meaningful for a Pokémon of Indeedee’s level, the fvour didn’t fully match Indeedee’s tastes so the benefits were not obtained, or he was slowly going insane and seeing things that weren’t there.

  Personally, he preferred that st one.

  His name was Caln Wayne, younger brother of Milo Wayne and second son of Harvey and Mary Wayne. His family owned a ranch in Turffield, Gar. And yes, he was well aware that Milo would eventually become a gym leader.

  He wasn’t a psychic or a time traveller, just another random transmigrator.

  He had pyed the Pokémon games, at least up till Scarlet and Violet, though not the DLC. He had a passing interest in the comics, though he had long since stopped keeping up with them given that he had once been a low ranking office drone working 12 hours a day, 7 days a week.

  He had stopped following the anime even earlier than that. Somewhere during Sinnoh if he remembered correctly.

  Mostly because of his first crush Dawn.

  That skirt was basically bait for young teenagers okay?

  Then after he started working? Sorry, he’d rather sleep.

  Suffice to say, he had not been amused to be transmigrated into the Pokémon world.

  He had wanted to file a compint.

  Couldn’t you at least transmigrate me to something a little less complex? Like Harry Potter? No nose guy bad. Become a powerful D&D Mage. Bst him with a level 9 spell. Problem solved.

  Born as a crying baby to two ranchers, he had spent his first nine years of life doing random shit, from kissing Wooloos to walking around backwards to the infamous Caped Baldy daily workout regiments, trying to awaken his system.

  By the time he was almost ten, he started to get worried.

  Looking out of the farm at that time, all he could see were dark, smoggy skies, filled with industrious factories. Everyone he saw was downcast and dressed like beggars, a huge contrast from the Gar he knew from the games.

  While the factories constantly spewed smoke into the sky, people focused on working in those factories, and from what his brother, Milo had told him at the time, there wasn’t even a Pokémon League.

  Oh, there were Gyms and Gym Leaders, along with a regional Champion, they weren’t really endorsed or part of a Pokémon League, they were just the local entertainment. There was no regur Gym Badge Marathon, no Champion Cup.

  Anyone who could beat up at least 8 Gym Leaders and the current regional Champion would become the new regional Champion. The position and title didn’t really hold any power, so whoever was the Champion at the time was basically a glorified actor/ athlete, sort of like Captain America in the early stages. He didn’t really do anything except pose for photos and battle whenever someone came to challenge him.

  The people doing the actual governing consisted of the Monarchy, the nobles and aristocrats who decided on policy, the administrative css who executed said policy, the business css who funded those policies.

  And then there were the peasants.

  He and his family had been in that st css.

  In summary, it was basically Britain, near the end of the Industrial Revolution give or take a few years. He was probably somewhat wrong, given his memories of world history was spotty at best, but he probably wasn’t all that far off.

  He had been completely confused because he didn’t even know if this was the same world as the one in the games, if there would be an Ash or a Red, or if there would be an Ash and a Red?

  And if there were, where were they now? Were they in diapers?

  Or it would be decades would it be before they were born?

  Or there would be none of them at all, and he would have to be the one to solo Mewtwo and Giovanni.

  Yeah, no.

  It was starting to look like it was better for him to just stay on the ranch.

  He couldn’t even try and take advantage of his future knowledge by becoming a sophisticated streamer or e-commerce mogul due to the simple fact that there was no internet.

  To be specific, the internet existed. Unfortunately, it was only for those who could afford one of those chonky big desktop machines and used super slow yet expensive dial up connections.

  He didn’t really know how it worked at the time, just that it involved Porygon somehow.

  For a rancher family, that one machine cost equal to two months of their revenue, by his estimation.

  In other words, fuck making a delivery service, they didn’t even have Pornhub yet.

  (Judging by the special books in the fake compartment under Milo’s second drawer; PokeGirl was still a thing.)

  Either way, the decision had been taken out of his hands when his brother had shoved a Poke ball into said hand, and kicked him out of the ranch, saying he needed to experience the world before he decided on becoming a rancher for the rest of his life, or he would always regret it.

  Caln knew his brother had the best intentions, but he still swore he was gonna set Milo’s pants on fire one day and then humiliate him publicly.

  And so, ten-year-old little him had ignored the sinking feeling in his little tummy, hefted his backpack, girded his loins and made his way to the closest Pokémon centre to register as a Pokémon trainer.

  The Nurse Joy there had given him a rather sad look, took down his name, let him pick another Pokémon as his official starter, handed him a rather thick book with the words ‘Pokemon Field Manual’ and shooed him back out.

  A Field Manual.

  That was what passed for a Pokedex here.

  A fucking textbook.

  He had at least hoped the Pokedex was already created, at least that way he would have had some way to gauge the time period but no… why make things easy for him?!

  Right Arceus?!

  He didn’t remember the specific techno-gimmick in each generation, he only remembered the Pokedex, the C-gear (because Yancy was cute) and the Rotom Phone.

  That was it.

  On that day, as 10 year old little Caln had stood under the eaves of the Pokémon centre, staring up at the dark, smoggy sky, despite it being early afternoon, one Poke ball in each hand, a thick book shoved down the back of his pants because it wouldn’t fit into his backpack, he realized that that sinking feeling in his stomach had finally solidified into the terrifying conclusion that he likely didn’t have a system at all.

  As far as he knew, from all the Pokémon fanfictions and novels he had read, transmigrators were usually divided into two categories. The ones with systems, and the ones without.

  The ones with systems usually had a lighter atmosphere, relying mostly on the system for comedy to do things that were both impossible and illogical in order to shock everyone around them into silence.

  The ones without… well they usually went with the realistic, nitty gritty route.

  A system would just csh with that setting.

  For those kinds of fanfictions, it was nice to read, but somewhat less nice to actually experience. Even worse, many things did not jive with his in-game experience, for instance, the Fairy-type wasn’t even officially documented yet, and there were no such thing as convenient insta-heal Pokémon centres.

  Nurse Joy had specifically taken care to tell him not to get hurt without back up because too many overconfident trainers decided to fight someone or something far beyond their capabilities, like rampaging Ursarings, and failed.

  Your Pokémon could break a leg, or get sshed, spttering blood everywhere, and even if you get to a Pokémon centre in time, there was no guarantee it could be healed, and even if it could, it could take months depending on the severity of the damage done.

  What then? Are you supposed to go around for months one Pokémon short?

  In the worst-case scenario, Nurse Joy could only give you her condolences and tell you to prepare for a funeral.

  And to him, with his two common Mon starters, kicked out of the family home with no currency to speak of, barely a week’s worth of food straining his backpack (no special super space backpack for you, mister!), it was looking mighty likely that he was about to spend his next few years crawling through the mud until, inevitably, he ended up strong enough to solo Legendaries or something.

  Assuming he survived long enough, or whoever the fanfiction writer was didn’t just give up halfway or something.

  He had looked up at the sky and roared with dissatisfaction, “I want a refund please!”

  The few people around at the time had just looked at him strangely and went, “Oh, it’s just Caln going crazy again.” And continued about their day.

  Eight years and a lot of expert mud crawling ter, topped off with a hazy, blender of rage and hatred or two, he had somehow ended up in Paldea.

  His parents had bought a ranch here, and had asked him if he would mind taking it over for them.

  Honestly, they probably thought he might as well do something different given that as far as they knew, he had been rooting around the world with naught but a single badge to show for it in his eight years as a professional Hobo/ Pokémon trainer. There were other reasons of course, but ultimately, he had agreed.

  And now, he wasn’t even twenty yet, but he was already limping around with a walking stick (turns out, all that mud crawling and daily Caped Baldy workout regimes weren’t good for the knees. Who knew?!) and trying to survive in a near abandoned piece of shit real estate somewhere in between the Casseroya Lake and the Gseado Mountain, somewhat northeast of Medali.

  More importantly, it was directly north of the Great Paldean Crater.

  It certainly wasn’t prime ranch property. Those were in the Western and Southern regions, with the most famous being Cabo Poco or the stretch between Cascaraffa and Porto Marinada.

  His piece of shit nd, stuck right in the middle of the Casseroya Lake, the Gseado Mountain and the Great Paldean Crater, had some real shitty weather as a result.

  He hadn’t even been here more than a week, but 3 - 4 out of 7 days, it had been raining non-stop, despite it being Summer.

  He wasn’t even sure if anything could grow here.

  On a completely unreted note, that part of the region didn’t particurly look very wide or big in his foggy memory, but in the real world, that little “piece of shit real estate” was rge enough that it had taken him half a day just to cross from one end to the other while riding a Pokémon.

  If he had attempted to do that on foot, he probably would’ve died halfway.

  And now, after he had basically decided to live as a professional Hermit, “Plink” his system finally decided to show up to the party.

  More than eight years too te.

  He almost considered going back to actively being a Pokémon trainer again just so he could go pick a fight with Arceus.

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