The laboratory at the Alucard estate was a world apart from the opulence above, a place where science and aura intertwined in quiet harmony. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls opened onto the estate's sprawling gardens, where early morning light filtered through swaying leaves and scattered dappled patterns across polished chrome surfaces and humming machines.
Inside, the air vibrated softly—not with noise, but with subtle energies sensed by only a few who truly understood the nature of aura. From one corner, the gentle shimmer of incubators pulsed rhythmically like breaths; nearby, DNA sequencers clicked steadily, weaving genomic secrets into readable streams.
Magnus stood at the lab's center, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp and calculating despite years of achievements. He watched Robert with the gaze of a master teacher watching a rising star. Robert adjusted the delicate lens on a molecular sequencer, his fingers steady despite the complexity of the task.
"You have the patience of a thousand years for this," Magnus said, voice low but firm. "But science is not endurance alone. It is precision, intuition... and courage."
Robert lifted his gaze briefly, meeting his grandfather's eyes. "I've learned that exactness without risk is no evolution at all."
Magnus allowed a brief smile. "Wise beyond your years."
Even in this sanctuary, Robert felt the familiar stirring—an unseen presence that pressed at the edges of his consciousness. Mewtwo, the silent watcher, lingered somewhere nearby, a guardian and mentor woven into this silent web of discovery.
Weeks passed in a blur of experimentation and record keeping. Robert's breakthrough came quietly but shook the foundations of Kalos's breeding science: he developed a method to influence the flow of aura within Pokémon genetics, subtly enhancing psychic reflexes to cut reaction times by twenty percent.
The news of his findings spread like wildfire through elite channels and academic circles. Invitations came swiftly—seminars in Lumiose City, debates with veteran scholars, and confidential meetings with political figures interested in the implications for battle leagues and breeding programs.
One such event was held in a grand hall overlooking the city's bustling avenues, filled with the brightest minds and skeptics alike.
Robert stood confidently before the assembled researchers, his voice calm as he laid out his data. "Our understanding of genetic expression must evolve... If we harmonize molecular science with aura dynamics, the potential for training and battle strategy expands beyond anything we have seen."
While many applauded, a cold voice interrupted.
Dr. Lucien Verity, a senior researcher known for his conservative views, stood and fixed Robert with a steely gaze.
"Science in the lab is one thing, Master Alucard," Verity said, voice cutting through the crowd. "But the battlefield, the market—they do not obey experiments and charts. They obey effectiveness—and sometimes, tradition."
Robert smiled faintly but firmly. "Tradition does not win battles without adaptation. Science is a compass in the storm. Respect it, and it will guide us forward."
MurMurs rippled. Some covered disbelief; others, begrudging respect.
Behind the public debates, political currents swirled dangerously.
One midnight, the quiet of the estate shattered. Alarms screamed, lights flashed red. Robert's study was breached—security footage revealed shadows moving with practiced ease, bypassing the estate's advanced defenses. Aftershock trembled through the family's scientific wing—vital research stolen.
Heart pounding, Robert stood silently as Magnus joined him, eyes grave.
"This," Magnus said quietly, "is no longer about your experiments. It is war."
Robert's thoughts swirled—was it a rival family, a jealous peer, or something darker? The delicate balance of science, power, and secrecy was crumbling.
Determined not to falter, Robert returned to the lab with renewed focus. His methods grew more refined—melding molecular genetics with his intuitive aura control and psychic conditioning.
His Pokémon were more than pets or partners—they were living reflections of his exacting vision.
Aron's ironclad defense, Absol's razor instinct, Weedle's cunning speed, Beldum's calculating precision—all carried genetic markers enhanced by his latest techniques, each trained to respond instantly to psychic cues.
One afternoon, as the sun cast golden light across rows of specimens, Magnus approached.
"Your family name is a mantle, Robert," he said, voice measured. "And genius is a burden. It attracts eyes—friendly and hostile alike."
Robert met his gaze steadily. "Then I will teach those eyes to respect, not threaten."
Magnus nodded approvingly. "Good. The time is coming when you will need more than science and raw talent. You will need strategy, patience—and allies."
That evening, Robert sat alone in his chamber, surrounded by research notes and softly humming machinery. The vast psychic presence he'd felt since birth lingered nearby, a silent reminder of the weight he carried—not just as heir, but as a beacon of change.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind—guiding his aura through memories of the stolen data, possible suspects, and steps forward.
In the shadows of power and progress, he was prepared to claim his place