This move was Hidden Power. Because the theory and application were fairly advanced, it hadn't come up much in Ethan's earlier classes.
He didn't overexplain it to himself. He remembered the essentials: a Normal-classified move whose type changes depending on the user's innate energy, making it incredibly practical for patching coverage.
Top student instincts kicking in, Ethan logged into the Alliance Knowledge Net and pulled every paper he could find on "Hidden Power."
He winced at the bill—ten papers by East Asia's top professors for ¥1,000.
That's… two days of Houndour's rations.
He went quiet. Should he complain that knowledge cost more than gold now—or that Houndour ate like a bottomless furnace? Either way, his balance made one thing obvious: the Trainer path wasn't built for ordinary families.
He organized his thoughts, then read through the papers overnight, hunting for a workable training route.
After millennia of study, humans had cracked a lot of move secrets. Scholars even grouped several "Power" techniques together in theory: Hidden Power, Ancient Power, Nature Power, Secret Power, and one catch-all concept they nicknamed Universal Power. Among them, Hidden Power was the most deeply researched: a special attack whose type (any of 16—everything but Normal and Fairy) depends on the user's latent profile.
As for learning it, the literature offered guidance but no guarantees. Some species can self-realize Hidden Power as they grow; others need targeted guidance. The fastest progress came from attunement sites—places saturated with a single elemental signature.
Live for a while in dense, ancient forest → high chance to grasp Hidden Power (Grass).Train near an active volcano → bias toward Hidden Power (Fire).…and so on.
After ten papers, Ethan distilled two realistic paths:
Pay to access government or private attunement grounds. Costly, time-boxed, and still not 100%.
Grind it in the wild and pray to luck and insight.
"So there's no way I'm mastering HP fast," he sighed. "Table it and pivot tactics."
He closed the docs and shelved Hidden Power—for now—and sketched alternatives for Houndour.
On the bed, Houndour crunched a tree fruit. Feeling Ethan's stare, the pup nudged the half-eaten fruit toward him.
"Don't push it. I'm not eating that. And keep it off the blanket—stain it and you're cooked."
He rapped Houndour's head lightly; the pup yelped, then dutifully pulled the fruit back to center. Ethan chuckled.
Then a thought hit him. Why not ask the cheat? Maybe [Swap] offered a… "skill disc."
He opened [Swap], watched the blue starlit vortex whirl, and wished:
"I want Hidden Power—a skill module!"
The vortex spun; lights flickered. Ethan's pulse jumped. So the store did sell technique modules. If he could stockpile enough Ancient Energy, he wouldn't have to chase tutors for months; he could teach moves instantly.
A dialog popped:
Hidden Power — Random Type … 600 Ancient Energy
Hidden Power — Type-Designated … 700 Ancient Energy
"Yow. Pricier than a home Energy Cube Maker."
Random was a non-starter—one shot out of sixteen? No thanks. He paid the extra 100 for Type-Designated.
This time, nothing bonked his forehead; the module slid straight into his Backpack. After checking the usage notes, he shelved it instead of firing it immediately.
Notebook open, he summarized what he'd learned about Hidden Power and stared at the line:
Which type?
Grass was the obvious coverage pick against Water/Ground/Rock. But for raw pressure, Ice had better neutral reach—though it didn't synergize with his current kit. The worst pure damage choice, Fire, still had merit: mastering Hidden Power's modulation could deepen Houndour's flame control, sharpening Ethan's whole Pyromancer game plan.
He parked the decision and moved to the live strategy: fire mastery first.
Early on, Dark utility would lag; even later, Evil-type (Dark) tricks were more about tempo than raw kill pressure. If he wanted to get ahead of the cohort, Fire was the efficient tree.
Right now the kit was Ember + Flash Fire + Fire Spin—the heart of his arsonist flow. Houndour had beaten an Ekans, but the fight exposed gaps. Ethan's vision of the style was simple: if there's fire, there's a Fire Spin. Houndour either didn't grasp the instruction yet or couldn't quite execute it.
So that was priority one:
Raise Fire Spin control. Condense, steer, recycle.
Next, conditioning. Houndour's stat lean made it a caster, not a static turret. He needed mobility and burst—so they'd drill Sucker Punch timing (inherited), raw speed, and stamina.
He also eyed the two inherited but "grayed-out" moves: Reversal and Trick. He wanted them online, but he was realistic. Reversal demanded walking the edge in real fights. Trick usually clicked only post-evolution (Houndoom) when a partner's battle sense matured.
Three lanes, then: Fire Spin control, movement + Sucker Punch, and, when ready, Hidden Power.
The next morning, Ethan dragged a drowsy Houndour out at dawn. The pup kept nodding off mid-trot.
"Houndour, up. Special training time. Future Root of All Evil, future Eternal Sun God—don't lose to a yawn!"
Those gloriously ridiculous titles hit like a cold splash. Houndour snapped alert, eyes blazing. For a second Ethan wondered if there was Lycanroc in its family tree.
Way better than "Orchard Trio," the dog thought. Coach, gimme those.
They ran. Thirty minutes later, Ethan was soaked and wheezing—the village loop had hills the school track didn't. Houndour looked… bored. Worse, it gave him a pitying look.
"Fantastic. Truly outstanding," Ethan said sweetly.
A chill ran down Houndour's spine. Ethan looped two elastic bands around its foreleg and strapped on a phone.
Houndour stared. Ethan grinned. "Pedometer's live. No slacking. You owe me three more laps. I'll be right here—go!"
Houndour nearly Embered his hair, but held back. If getting stronger meant indignities, so be it. It ran.
An hour later, an exhausted Houndour returned to its Ball. The nutrient pills from Spirit Hall had arrived that morning; Ethan filled a bowl and called Houndour back out. Expecting more fruit, the pup blinked at the rich aroma—and a new association rooted itself: hard training = great food.
While Houndour devoured dinner, Ethan logged the session.
"Ninety minutes. A bit over 10 km. Didn't quite finish three laps. Nowhere near its ceiling—fine for week one. But as it scales, time cost will explode…"
He sighed. "So—add weight."
He ordered a set of canine bracers (Level 5–15), lightweight, abrasion-resistant—¥1,000+ for the set.
After breakfast and rest, they headed for the North Ridge. Now that his parents had seen Houndour's poise, they didn't block him. He hoped for aggressive wilds—real matches build real skill.
He checked the Spinarak valley from last time. No luck—no fresh webs. He cleaned out the little cave where the Volcarona egg had sat and turned it into a hideout.
Even after a day, faint solar heat lingered. Houndour padded in, eyes half-lidded, basking in the sunlight residue.
"I wonder when Warren Lin will send the Volcarona egg back," Ethan murmured. "If it vanishes, Houndour's going to hold a grudge forever."
The leftover solar trace was perfect—safe, steady, control-oriented. It wouldn't boost flame quality much, but it could polish fine control.
All morning, Houndour soaked in the energy, then practiced the arsonist flow in the ravine. Progress was modest: it could steer flames and reclaim them, but tight Fire Spin condensation still wouldn't click.
Since the solar trace was bleeding off by the hour, Ethan put everything else aside and camped the cave—two days and nights of absorption + drills. Evenings were still 10 km runs; at Houndour's request, he let it sleep in the cave, then collected it for dawn runs and breakfast.
At last, the trace faded.
"As expected of power touched by a legend," Ethan said, rubbing Houndour's head. "Even a whisper of it lasted this long."