(Grey's POV)

  As I approached the towering structure of the Celadon City Trainers League building, a mix of excitement and anxiety swirled in my stomach. The building gleamed under the midday sun, its glass exterior reflecting the bustling energy of my fellow candidates. This was it—the moment I had worked tirelessly for, a chance to prove myself in a world that often felt just out of reach.

  I straightened my posture, took a deep breath, and made my way through the entrance. The air inside was thick with anticipation, filled with the scent of polished wood and the faint mustiness of old books. Rows of chairs filled the massive hall, each occupied by kids nervously fidgeting with papers and supplies. A banner above the stage proclaimed, "Kanto Trainers League Exam," and I felt my heart race at the sight.

  Finding a seat near the back, I tried to calm my racing pulse. This exam was not just a test; it was my opportunity to validate the countless hours I had spent studying Pokémon types, evolutions, and battle strategies. Would it be enough?

  The proctor's voice boomed over the loudspeaker, shattering my thoughts. "Welcome, trainers! Today's examination consists of two phases: a written test followed by a battle assessment. Good luck!"

  As the papers were distributed, I could feel the tension in the air. I took a deep breath and focused. The first part of the test was straightforward. As I skimmed through the questions, I quickly jotted down answers to the easy ones about Pokémon types and evolutions, building my confidence.

  But then came the challenging questions—the ones that could make or break my score. I felt the adrenaline spike as I tackled topics about egg groups and the alpha gene. When I reached the long-answer section, I was met with a complicated scenario: An Arbok has bitten your Pokémon. The description noted that this Arbok's skin was a deep, dark purple and its size was significantly larger than average.

  My answer was precise: If I were a strong trainer with powerful Pokémon, I would fight the Arbok, defeat it, and secure a vial of its venom or a fang—or even capture the Pokémon entirely. I would then take it to the nearest center for Nurse Joy to examine the sample and treat my Pokémon. Under no circumstance should a standard Antidote be used; those are designed for regular toxins and cannot neutralize the venom of an "Elite" Arbok. The darker shade of its scales indicates it is highly experienced and has begun producing a much more lethal, concentrated poison in its fangs. However, if I were not a skilled trainer in this scenario, I should run and pray I survive, as whatever decision led me into that encounter was a fatal mistake.

  Similar tricky questions filled the paper, testing deep, practical knowledge of Pokémon biology and law. After what felt like an eternity, I finally set down my pen. A wave of relief washed over me, but I couldn't shake the nagging doubt lingering in the back of my mind.

  Once the written exam concluded, we were ushered into the arena for the battle assessment—a spacious area surrounded by high walls and filled with the sounds of cheering trainers and Pokémon calls. Before the challenge, the attendant gave us fifteen minutes with our rental Pokémon and a basic summary of its moves. In my case, I was assigned a Raticate. The attendant told me it only knew Quick Attack and Tackle.

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  During the break, we were given bread as a snack. I took some with me to the waiting room. I released the Raticate and tried to communicate, but it wasn't cooperative at first. I offered it the bread, and suddenly, its attitude shifted. Once it was eating, it became much more helpful. By testing its reactions to certain commands, I discovered it had a hidden move the exam likely kept "secret" to reward observant trainers: Endeavor. I immediately began building a strategy around it.

  "Next up, Grey Mallory!" the announcer called. My blood ran cold. Standing opposite me was a confident examiner with a Houndoom—a powerful, sleek creature that held a clear elemental advantage.

  I glanced at my Raticate. It was ready, but nowhere near as intimidating as that Houndoom. "Alright, Raticate," I whispered, determination bubbling inside me. "We have to make this work."

  As the starting bell rang, adrenaline spiked through my veins. "Raticate, use Quick Attack!" I commanded. My Pokémon took off like a bullet, striking Houndoom before it could even react. The cheers from the audience surged like a tidal wave, giving me a flicker of hope.

  But the Houndoom was quick to retaliate. With a fierce growl, it unleashed a Flamethrower that caught Raticate off guard. My heart dropped as I watched my Pokémon stagger, but it managed to regain its footing.

  "Raticate! Use Fury Swipes!" I called out. Raticate lunged in, using its sharp claws to great effect. However, the veteran examiner was faster. He ordered a Bite, and the Houndoom's jaws snapped shut on the rat Pokémon, injecting a malevolent Dark energy into the wound.

  "Alright, Raticate! Use Quick Attack again!" I shouted. Raticate created some distance and then dashed forward, landing another blow. The examiner nodded, and I couldn't help but smile. Maybe we had a chance.

  The Houndoom retaliated with another fierce Flamethrower. "Dodge, Raticate!" I urged. It evaded the flames just in time, but my relief was replaced by horror. The Flamethrower had been a ruse. Without even receiving a verbal order, the Houndoom closed the gap and used Fire Fang.

  Professor Westwood's books mentioned that a Houndoom's flames cause pain that lingers for a long time. Seeing the agony on Raticate's face, I knew it was true. This wasn't a battle I was "supposed" to win; the examiner was testing my composure under pressure. But I wanted the win. It was time for the trump card.

  "Now, use Endeavor!" I commanded. A reddish aura surrounded my Pokémon. The moment Raticate executed the move, the impact was visible. Houndoom staggered as the "equalizing" effect took hold. Since Raticate was on the brink of fainting, Houndoom's health was instantly dragged down to that same critical level.

  As the Houndoom growled in pain, I saw my opening. "Follow up with Quick Attack!" Raticate surged forward, striking the weakened Houndoom once more. The crowd erupted. Houndoom struggled to remain standing, its legs wobbling. Finally, it faltered and fell.

  "Your exam is over. Congrats, kid," the examiner's voice rang out. A rush of disbelief and elation surged through me. I had won against a Houndoom! While I realized these were likely recently evolved Pokémon—since the League wouldn't give top-tier veterans to examinees—it didn't diminish the victory.

  As I left the arena, I was met with applause from a few fellow candidates. Later, we gathered in the main hall for the results.

  "First, the written exam results," the proctor declared. When I received my sheet, I was stunned. I knew I had done well, but a score of 193/200 was beyond my expectations. For reference, the highest score last year was an 189. I wasn't the top scorer—I was ranked 3rd—but I was still incredibly happy.

  Then came the final aggregate sheet. My battle score was 47/50 (Rank 4), and my total accumulated score was 95.25/100. This gave me an overall rank of 3rd out of at least 5,000 students.

  The best part? Because I was in the top 4, I would be receiving a starter Pokémon sponsored by the Elite Four. I had finally secured a good start