Chapter 2 Survival Building, Sword of the Earth!
Really.
Just as expected, all he needed was experience. Level up, and his attributes improved accordingly.
More importantly — so far, he had seen no upper limit to his stats.
In other words…
Given enough time, he could become something close to a humanoid Pokémon — like the enhanced humans seen in Team Rocket's experimental programs — perhaps even strong enough to crack Mewtwo's barrier with a single strike.
Was this what "human potential" truly meant?
"This is just the RPG module," Ragnar muttered.
"The abilities of the other modules haven't activated yet. There must be prerequisites. For example, the RPG system only awakened after I completed my first battle."
"GAL and Survival Building are easy enough to understand… but FPS?"
He grimaced. "I'm not seriously going to need a gun in a world where Pokémon shoot lightning, right?"
He lay back on the grass, staring up at the blue sky, falling into thought.
At this stage, he had no grand ambition.
He didn't dream of conquering Gyms.
He didn't seek the title of Pokémon Master.
If anything…
The original owner of this body had once wanted to open a kendo dojo in town — to ensure the family's Cross-Sword Style would not die out. Especially not fall into the hands of those who would misuse it.
Now that Ragnar had inherited that wish, he felt obliged to fulfill it.
Besides — it sounded genuinely fun.
Becoming a Pokémon Master might be exciting.
But reclaiming his own power, on his own terms, felt even more meaningful.
"And a dojo can earn money too," he mused.
"We'll need equipment, space, and proper renovations if we want students."
"As for money… that old geezer really left me nothing. But renovation? I can handle that myself."
He clenched his fist.
It's just grinding in a game.
With thousands of hours of sandbox-building experience behind him, constructing a dojo would be trivial.
He extended his hand toward his partner and grinned.
"Farfetch'd! Let's chop trees. We're building the best dojo in Kanto!"
"Kwaa! Faru-kwa!"
The leek-wielding duck struck a proud pose, eyes shining.
It didn't fully understand — but this was a trainer it acknowledged.
And a partner supports their trainer's path.
That was how bonds worked.
An hour later, Ragnar stood before a tall tree on the outskirts of town, gripping an iron axe.
As expected, translucent text appeared in his vision.
[Resource gathering detected.]
[Survival Building Module — Activated.]
[Construction Level: 1]
[Gathering Level: 1]
[Equipped Tool: Iron Axe — Efficiency +30%]
[Tip: Chop trees at dawn. Cook food at night. No matter how busy you are, drink tea to keep sanity stable.]
— A Survival Master
"…Right. I've played Don't Starve too, you know."
He raised the axe and struck.
Bang!
The blade hit the trunk — yet left no mark.
Farfetch'd blinked, tilting its head.
Was his trainer holding back?
No… the impact had been real.
Then—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
After ten solid strikes, the tree shattered into floating logs, scattering onto the ground. Only a short stump remained.
"…Yep. Exactly like in-game."
Ragnar sighed in acceptance.
If anyone else saw this, they'd assume a Psychic-type illusion — like Sabrina's city-wide barriers — but this was neither psychic power nor Aura.
Still…
In a world where humans with special abilities exist — Aura Guardians like Riley, psychic masters like Sabrina, Viridian-powered trainers like Giovanni — calling it a superpower was the safest explanation.
Noticing Farfetch'd staring at him in awe, Ragnar smiled.
"Newly awakened superpower. Cool, right?"
"Kwa… kwaa!!"
The duck's eyes gleamed with excitement.
If its trainer grew stronger — it must too!
Its leek swung with renewed determination.
Another tree fell.
[Gathering Level 1 → 2]
[New Feature Unlocked: Resource Backpack]
Resource Backpack:
A portable storage space with 20 slots.
Identical items stack automatically.
Small items: 99 per stack
Medium: 40
Large: 20
Living creatures cannot be stored.
Food will spoil over time.
— Logistics Tip: Eat before it smells funny.
Ragnar's eyes lit up.
"A backpack system… perfect."
Now he wouldn't need to carry heavy bundles around town like a laborer.
Even with stack limits, it was far more generous than most survival games.
"Food won't be a problem. Berry trees grow everywhere in Kanto."
His gaze sharpened.
"The real challenge… is attracting attention to the dojo."
He began forming a plan.
Advertising through the Pokégear network.
Battle demonstration videos.
Human-versus-Pokémon sparring sessions.
In the manga era, flashy battle footage drew crowds — especially with Gym broadcasts becoming popular.
Cross-Sword Style wasn't visually elegant like katana forms.
It demanded athletic power and precise timing.
But…
Against Pokémon in motion?
It would look incredible.
"Perfect. I'll record training matches with Farfetch'd and upload them."
Teenagers loved rebellious spectacle.
Crowds meant ticket sales.
Ticket sales meant equipment.
Step by step — the dojo would rise.
Only one thing remained.
A name.
Ragnar thought for a long moment.
Then smiled.
"Sword of the Earth Dojo."