Finally, the time had come. When Silas saw the message, he let out a sigh of relief.
Although, for various reasons, the immediate shortage in his breeding funds had been solved for now, obtaining the official status of a Pokémon Breeder was something he had long planned.
It wasn't only about money.
This title carried countless invisible benefits.
The network of breeders alone — their resource sharing and exchange of information — was enough to make anyone eager to join.
Splash—
Silas rose from the hot spring. Even though he was confident in his abilities, the habit from his previous life of cramming before an exam was still ingrained in him.
There were still twenty hours left before the Breeder Exam began. He decided to push himself a little harder.
With that thought, he returned to his room and began studying once more.
The next day.
Exactly twelve noon.
At the Pokémon League Breeder Examination Center.
"Hello, here's my Pokédex."
Silas handed his Pokédex to the receptionist as his proof of identity.
Beep~
With a soft chime from the machine, the staff member smiled as she returned his Pokédex, along with an admission card imprinted with his basic information.
"Good luck on your exam."
Silas smiled in return, took the items, and followed the direction of the guide signs.
A Level 6 Breeder was already considered a respectable rank. According to common understanding:
Levels 1–3 were essentially Breeder Apprentices.
Levels 4–5 marked Beginner Breeders.
Levels 6–8 were Intermediate Breeders.
Levels 9–10 represented Advanced Breeders.
Beyond that was the title of Breeder Master, requiring further review and recognition.
The reason for these divisions lay in two parts. First, the difficulty spikes at four thresholds: advancing from Level 3 to 4, from 5 to 6, from 8 to 9, and breaking past Level 10. Each represented a sharp leap in challenge.
Second, it corresponded to a tangible, universally recognized measure of ability: the making of Pokéblocks.
Breeding knowledge and training plans were too specialized for most people to evaluate. But Pokéblock quality could be defined and graded with precision.
The League's criteria focused on several aspects.
The first was energy purity.
Beginner Breeders typically produced Pokéblocks pure enough only for Pokémon below Level 30.
Intermediate Breeders could meet the needs of Pokémon between Levels 30–60.
And so on.
The second was energy activity. For example: two Pokéblocks with equal energy purity of 50. One might provide 80% of its energy for absorption, while another reached 85%. Clearly, the latter was superior.
Of course, this was also influenced by ingredients. Every berry had its own unique properties, and some combinations carried natural conflicts. The breeder's role was to minimize those negative reactions.
A severe conflict reduced purity, meaning energies canceled one another out. A blend that could have achieved perfect 100 energy purity would drop if handled poorly.
A minor conflict reduced activity, leaving behind impurities — energy that remained but could not be absorbed effectively.
No matter how talented a Pokémon was, even one with extraordinary potential, it could not efficiently use this wasted portion.
These two — purity and activity — were the most important scoring points. But there were others, such as taste and appearance.
After all, Pokéblocks were food. Pokémon cared about flavor and presentation. If a Pokéblock looked like a rainbow-colored chemical cube and smelled like a mix of Vileplume, Muk, and Garbodor, no Trainer would feed it to their partner, no matter how effective it was.
Even Pokémon like Muk or Garbodor, who thrived on garbage, weren't exceptions. Just because they enjoyed waste didn't mean they liked eating themselves.
Extreme cases were rare, though. Over time, most formulas had been refined to achieve both effectiveness and palatability.
But in the process of experimentation, there were always oddities.
One infamous example was the Dark Pokéblock — made from an equal mix of Tamato Berry, Aguav Berry, and Haban Berry. Combining spicy, bitter, and sour flavors, the blend produced an indescribably foul odor.
Normally, berry aromas were sealed within by the blending process. But this particular trio disrupted the sealing effect, releasing the stench.
The smell was so unbearable that, despite its effectiveness in enhancing Poison-type Pokémon's special attacks, almost no one produced it.
There were plenty of other substitutes, after all.
And truthfully, it tormented not only the Pokémon eating it but also the breeders making it.
At its core, a Pokéblock was the fusion of berry energy essences into a perfect whole, removing impurities while maximizing usable energy.
This helped Pokémon develop faster and grow stronger.
Of course, using Pokéblocks above a Pokémon's level was dangerous. Giving a Rookie Pokémon the daily ration meant for a Champion-level Pokémon would only cause indigestion. Higher was not always better.
At present, Silas's partners were precisely at the range where Intermediate-level Pokéblocks were most suitable.
Which meant he had been spending heavily on them.
If not for meeting Froslass's Trainer, Yukina, who had helped him make some recently, he would have been struggling to find a trustworthy breeder to supply him.
Especially for Pokémon like his Pidgeot and Blaziken.
But once he passed this Breeder Exam, he could create Pokéblocks himself — using his own unique recipes.
Thinking of that, Silas paused, looked at the grand entrance before him, and slowly pushed it open.
Under the gaze of everyone inside, he revealed a slightly shy smile.
"What a handsome young man!" someone exclaimed.
That was the first impression many of the breeders inside had upon seeing Silas.
The second thought quickly followed:
"He definitely doesn't look over twenty… So young! There's no way he's had enough years to sit the exams one level at a time. Could he be one of those geniuses recommended by a Gym?"
Their eyes flashed with envy at the idea.
Silas glanced at the seat number written on his admission card: 45 — right in the middle of the hall. Following the signs, he made his way to his seat.
In the row ahead, a cheerful middle-aged man turned back to greet him.
"Hello there, young man. I'm the owner of Sanqi Breeding House in Suliang City. My specialty is making Pokéblocks for Normal- and Flying-type Pokémon, with particular expertise in raising Dodrio. Mind if we get acquainted?"
As he spoke, he habitually handed over his business card.
"Of course." Silas grinned. "Silas Alaric, from Viridian City. Age: sixteen."
He knew exactly what the man was curious about, so he didn't hesitate to reveal his age.
"Oh-ho-ho! Remarkable! Truly remarkable!" The Sanqi Breeding House owner was full of praise. Sixteen and nineteen were both technically "under twenty," but the difference in meaning was immense.
Around them, other examinees strained their ears to catch the conversation, quietly sighing at the number of young geniuses appearing these days.
They all knew that Gyms had the right to recommend candidates for accelerated advancement in the exams. With the number of official Gyms in Kanto, there would always be a few such candidates each year.
But for someone like Silas — barely sixteen, not even holding a Level 1 Breeder certification, skipping directly to the Level 6 exam — that was rare indeed.
After all, Gyms had reputations to protect. If their recommended candidate failed spectacularly, it reflected poorly on their judgment.
Silas continued chatting amiably with the Sanqi Breeding House owner, who was already in his forties. The man had been stuck at Level 5 for seven or eight years, and this was his second time attempting the Level 6 exam.
"Ah, if I fail again this time, I'll have to wait another five years before I can try again," the man sighed.
"Don't be so pessimistic," Silas replied with an easy smile. "If you pass this time, there won't be a next time."
"You're right! This time, I must succeed!"
The middle-aged breeder clenched his fists in determination.
Time passed quickly in conversation, and before long, the exam was ready to begin.
One of the League's proctors released his Pokémon — an Alakazam.
"My apologies, everyone," the proctor said. "We must first conduct the routine inspection."
All the examinees, Silas included, nodded silently in understanding.
A psychic glow swept across the room. In an instant, Alakazam had scanned every candidate. It gave a small nod to the proctor, indicating that everything was in order.
"Very well then — the exam begins!"
At the announcement, the breeders immediately bent over their desks.
The exam stations resembled tablet computers, with all questions displayed and submitted digitally.
Without proctors and Alakazam, cheating would have been simple — a slight lean, a sideways glance, and one could easily peek past the low dividers.
But against an Alakazam's psychic oversight, human trickery was laughable. No one had ever succeeded. Anyone foolish enough to try was permanently barred from becoming a breeder, and faced additional punishments besides.
Silas focused intently on the first question before him:
Question 1:
The male counterpart species to Illumise is _______.
The former uses _______ to lure the latter into drawing glowing symbols across the night sky. The number of patterns observed so far is _______.
Furthermore, when the latter breeds with Ditto, the offspring will always hatch into _______.
Hah, an easy warm-up question, Silas thought. Even the lowest-level breeders would answer it without trouble.
The correct answers were:
Volbeat
Sweet Scent
213 distinct patterns
Either Volbeat or Illumise
He quickly filled them in and continued.