No one dared to dey.

  The group of captives hurried to escape Houndoom's gaze, only to find themselves stepping into cages once again.

  The iron doors shut automatically, followed by another round of cries and screams—then silence.

  Each group sted no more than three minutes.

  The further baeone was in lihe more despair grew in their hearts. Yet, faced with Houndoom, no one dared to resist.

  From start to finish, Sato remained pletely calm. Houndoom's tactic was simple but effective, enhanced by the oppressive enviro.

  Leer—an ability so insignifit that most trainers wouldn't bother using it. But uhese circumstances, with Houndoom's presence amplifying its effect, it alone was enough to suppress over a hundred people.

  Houndoom had clearly mastered its use.

  Never uimate any move.

  Sato remembered these words from a skill instructor in his past life, and he firmly believed them.

  In just half an hour, over a hundred captives had been reduced to the final group.

  Because there weren't enough people left, Sato's group only had six.

  When the iron door opened once more, Sato didn't hesitate. He stepped forward aered the sixth cage.

  Click!

  The iron door shut automatically, and the overwhelming stench of blood rushed into his nose.

  The thick, coaguted blood c the floor made every step feel like it could slip beh him. A single old lightbulb, ed in iron wire, hung from the ceiling, flickering weakly and barely illuminating the room.

  None of this fazed Sato. He calmly surveyed his surroundings, trying to match them with the distant memories of his past life.

  Then—a Poké Ball suddenly rolled to his feet.

  And burst open!

  "Caterpie~"

  A small, green head. A soft, yellow underbelly. Large, blinking eyes. A pink, Y-shaped antenna.

  Sato had already stepped back against the door, his gaze on the Pokémon a mixture of nostalgia and cold indifference.

  A Caterpie—one of the most on Pokémon in Kanto.

  Without warning, Caterpie lifted its head and shot out a stream of white silk—String Shot! Its once-clear eyes were now blood-red.

  Sato dodged to the side, his nostalgic expression disappearing pletely, leaving only cold detat.

  The string shot directly onto the metal wall.

  Just after using the move, Caterpie was in a state where its previous force had bee, arength had yet to build. Sato crouched low, tensed his legs, and lunged forward.

  His right hand shot out, grabbing Caterpie's pink antenna. His left hand pressed firmly on its head.

  Then, with every ounce of strength in his ten-year-old body—

  Rip!

  The antenna was torn off at the root.

  Green, viscous liquid spttered across Sato's face, but he didn't even blink. He simply stood still, feeling the trembling body of Caterpie beh his palm before it colpsed into the thick pool of blood.

  Quick. Precise. Ruthless.

  Sato wiped the blood from his face using his pajama sleeve. Theood silently, waiting for the others to finish their trials.

  Before long, a hidden iron door slid open on the opposite side of the room. L his head slightly, Sato walked out without hesitation.

  From the moment he had ehe cage, he had never once looked back at Caterpie.

  As a Gold-rank assassin, Sato wouldn't call himself pletely heartless. But he could kill without hesitation.

  Even if his oppo was a young, newly hatched Pokémon, he could easily pinpoint its weakness and strike lethally in a single move.

  Stepping out, Sato g the five es.

  Their doors stood wide open.

  The rooms were empty.

  It was clear—under such ditions, both humans and Pokémon, no matter how pure, would succumb to the overwhelming st of blood.

  The moment they ehey all uood ohing—kill, or be killed......Ghost Ship's Death Training Camp.

  The first trial. A bloodstained elimination process.

  The first lesson—face a Pokémon. Kill it. Or be killed......With absolute brutality, the Ghost Ship anization shattered any remaining fantasies of kindness within their recruits.

  "This batch is absolutely pathetic. Out of 136 people, only 38 passed the first round. Looks like my evaluation is hopeless," a familiar voice rang out.

  The Red-rank and Blue-rank assassins stepped forward from the shadows.

  The Red-rank assassin spretfully, but his eyes gleamed with excitement.

  The surviving 38 recruits gritted their teeth in sileo them, he was nothing but a lunatic.

  Among them, there were still traces of fear, hatred, and eveement.

  But not despair.

  No matter how, they had quered their hesitation. They had killed a Pokémon with their bare hands.

  Their mis had already begun to shift.

  "gratutions! You have passed the first round of elimination. No time to waste—let's move straight to the round. The rules remain the same, so do your best!"

  The Red-rank assassin's mood shifted uably.

  As the 38 survivors looked on in fear, he pressed the remote trol in his hand once again. The iron cages reopehis time, a small on ced at the entrance of each cage—a knife.

  "ons? That makes things easier."

  "ons also mean the oppo will be stronger."

  The sed speaker received gres of pure irritation.

  Stating the obvious was not appreciated. People were already terrified—no one spelled out.

  "001, 014, 028…"

  The Red-rank assassin began calling out numbers. After every ten names, he would stop.

  One by ohe chosen recruits stepped into the cages and picked up a knife.

  Click!

  Once again, the iron doors closed.

  A moment ter—banging. Screams. Cshes.

  Yet, unlike before—it sted less than a minute.

  Then—silence.

  A faint gulp broke the eerie quiet. It was barely audible—yet, in the absolute silence, everyone heard it.

  Once again—fear spread like a pgue.

  "033, 036, 046…"

  The call of death tinued. Despite their fear, those whose numbers were called stepped forward. They picked up their knives aered the blood-stained cages.

  pared to the first round, this time, they were prepared.

  Sato was once agai in line.

  As he stared at the eighth cage, something flickered in his eyes—excitement.

  Pig up the knife, he strode forward. Uhe others—who wore expressions of terror and dread—he was smiling.

  Click!

  The familiar log sound.

  The same crimson-drenched room.

  But instead of searg for his oppo—Sato pressed the knife against the back of his own hand and made a shallow cut.

  "Zor~"

  A weak, yet defiant cry echoed through the room.

  Following the sound, a small, bck figure emerged from the shadows.

  As Sato id eyes on it, his grin widened.

  One of the biggest reasons he had chosen to join Ghost Ship in this life—was standing right in front of him.

  A Pokémon used for rookie trials.

  A Pokémon that could be killed at any moment.

  Zorua.