Reborn in Pokemon With Dragon System

John's Point of View

The walk wasn't long.

Just a quiet stretch across a wide hall, cushioned with silver-blue carpets and lined with towering windows. Afternoon sunlight poured in, glinting off decorative steel trim and warm-toned paintings of historic battles, natural landscapes, and Pokémon both regal and wild. A breeze filtered through somewhere, carrying the scent of polished wood and blooming violets.

But I wasn't paying attention to any of that.

Nope.

My eyes were fixed on the burning figure at the far end of the room.

Infernape.

He stood like a battle-hardened sentinel—arms folded, head bowed slightly, flames flickering steadily above his head in a controlled rhythm. The fire didn't rage. It didn't roar. It watched. Quiet and proud, like it had nothing to prove—but everything to defend.

He wasn't looking at me. But somehow, I still felt seen.

I kept my pace casual—well, as casual as a two-year-old in a tuxedo could manage. But inside, I was already preparing myself. This was going to be a game of masks and timing. I hadn't seen Infernape in any show, storybook, or educational documentary in this life. Which meant—

I wasn't supposed to know what he was.

So I made myself forget. Not really, but enough to sell it. Eyes wide. Head tilted. A little awe in the corners of my mouth. Even as the word Joyboy stirred in my chest, I smothered it.

Not yet.

One thing at a time.

Because then I saw them.

Not just one or two people—five.

Five presences that instantly commanded the space around them. They sat—or stood now, rising one by one—like nobles of a royal court. Not in a showy way. Not draped in luxury. But in weight. In poise. In a kind of pressure that made even the air behave differently around them.

The servant beside me bowed low and whispered, "The Elders will see you now."

Oh, good. I was right.

This wasn't just a welcome party.

This... was the Circle of Silver.

The first to step forward was tall, lean, and wore a coat that practically shouted "precision." Every button aligned. Every thread tucked. His face was clean-shaven, his silver hair brushed immaculately back, and his eyes carried the focus of a man who could organize a war and have it run on time.

"John Silver," he greeted, his voice clipped but not unkind. "Welcome. We've been expecting you."

"And you are?" I asked, politely.

He blinked. A flicker of surprise—quick, but real.

Then he offered a short nod. "Elder Thyros. Master of Logistics. I see to the organization of all assets in the estate—people, Pokémon, supplies, security. If it moves, I oversee it."

"That sounds like a lot of paperwork," I said innocently.

His mouth twitched.

"More than you know," he murmured.

Before he could continue, a booming voice broke in.

"Well! At least he didn't say 'boring,' that's already a win!"

The man who stepped forward next looked like he'd marched out of a battlefield and straight into a family reunion. Broad shoulders, lined jaw, military-style boots, and a red-gold tunic over a tactical vest with medals he didn't bother to point out. His dark eyes shone with amusement.

"Name's Elder Quorin," he said, slapping a hand to his chest in salute. "Combat Strategist. I teach Pokémon and humans how to win wars and walk away from 'em. You've got a strong look in your eyes, kid."

"Thanks," I replied with a nod. "You've got the posture of someone who can make Machamps cry."

Quorin howled.

"Aha! Oh, I like him!"

"Of course you do," a new voice sighed.

This one came from a man still seated, adjusting a clipboard with one hand while scribbling something with the other. He had a wild mane of unbrushed gray hair, half-moon spectacles, and a coat stained with what I hoped was just ink. He looked like someone who had long since stopped caring about appearances in favor of results.

"Elder Roan," he said without looking up. "Research. I study biology, behavior, battle patterns, and evolutionary theory. Pokémon and humans both."

"That's a lot," I murmured.

"You've got no idea," he grunted, flipping to another page.

A Chansey waddled forward next, humming warmly and spinning once on her toes. She didn't say anything—just stood beside the woman who now approached.

The woman had soft gray eyes, neatly braided hair, and a presence that somehow felt... right. Like warmth by a fireplace. Comfort, but the kind you earned.

She bent to my level and gave a small smile. "I am Elder Isolde. The family's Healer. I tend to the body, mind, and sometimes the heart."

I smiled. "You look like someone who gives really good hugs."

She blinked. Then actually giggled. "I do, in fact."

"I'll take one later," I promised.

"Anytime," she said gently, standing tall again.

The last to step forward was dressed in layers of soft green and navy, his coat accented with embroidered threads that looked like vines. He wore elegant gloves, and his every move was clean, measured, and strangely quiet. A Dragonair glided beside him like it was made of water and silk.

"I am Elder Virell," he said in a clear, crisp tone. "Breeding Overseer. It is my responsibility to oversee our Pokémon development programs—heritage, genetics, temperament. My role is to ensure each generation carries forward the strengths of the last."

"Sounds... complicated," I said.

"It is," he replied without missing a beat. "And yet necessary. Like pruning a garden before it strangles itself."

Dragonair gave a small hum and tilted its head at me.

"...Hello," I whispered.

Its voice echoed faintly into my head—just emotion. Curiosity. Calm interest.

I bowed my head, and it nodded back.

"You know how to handle dragon-types?" Virell asked.

I shrugged. "Not yet. But I'm a fast learner."

"Mm. We'll see."

Then, just as I was about to ask something else, Elder Quorin turned toward the blazing figure who hadn't moved once.

"You've been staring at him for a while," he said. "Drawn to the fire, are you?"

I nodded.

"...He's strong," I said.

"Damn right, he is," Quorin grinned. "That's one of our top warriors. Not one of the family's Pokémon by title—but a longtime ally. You've got a sharp eye if you spotted him."

He turned to the flaming fighter.

"Come," Quorin called.

The Infernape stepped forward without hesitation.

Each step made the room feel smaller.

I tried not to shiver.

"He used to fight beside one of the Silver family's best," Quorin said. "An old friend of ours. She passed some years back. He stayed."

I blinked. Slowly.

So I did get the answer I needed.

This wasn't just some guard Pokémon.

He had a partner once. A great one.

I no longer needed to ask who he belonged to.

But...

Something bothered me.

"...Wait," I said, tilting my head. "You said he fought with someone. But you didn't say what kind of Pokémon he is."

The elders blinked.

Quorin chuckled. "Didn't we?"

"Nope."

I stepped forward and stared up at the Infernape—who stared right back.

"...So what's his species?" I asked. "I've never seen anything like him before."

The fire flickered.

Infernape's eyes gleamed.

And the Circle of Silver shared a look that said they were seeing something deeper than a simple question.

Something unexpected.

Something important.

The silence stretched just a little too long before Elder Roan finally grunted and gestured with a half-lazy wave of his clipboard.

"He's an Infernape, boy."

I blinked, turning to the researcher. "Infernape?"

Roan adjusted his spectacles and gave a short nod. "Final evolution of Chimchar. Fire and Fighting-type. Known for being agile, tactical, and ferocious in combat. Rare even in wild regions, rarer still to bond with humans. Most don't stick around after losing a trainer."

I turned back toward the Pokémon in question.

Infernape.

Now that the name had been spoken, it felt right. Like something I'd always known but just needed permission to say aloud.

"...You're really cool," I whispered.

The flames on his head flickered upward for a moment, just a brief rise—but I swear it was in response.

I could feel it.

There was a weight to him. A depth.

I needed to know more.

And luckily... I had the perfect tool for that.

I reached inward, to that quiet space beneath the surface. The part of me that still thrummed with energy not of this world. It wasn't something I used often—not in front of people. But right now?

I wanted to see.

My eyes narrowed slightly, and I activated the skill with a whisper only I could hear:

"Observe."

Reality shifted.

No one else noticed.

But floating in front of me, like a window of light and thought only I could see, a status screen unfolded from the space between us.

And what I saw?

...It hit me like a Thunderbolt.

⸻

Name :- None

Race :- Infernape

Gender :- Male

Alignment :- Loyal

Rank :- King

Potential :- Crimson Gold

Ability :- Iron Fist

Hidden Ability :- Blazing Soul

⸻

Health :- ??? / ???

Strength :- S

Agility :- S

Speed :- S+

Intellect :- A

Defense :- B+

Special Attack :- A+

Special Defense :- A

Leadership :- A

⸻

Skills :- Active Skills

1. Flare Blitz – Mastered

2. Close Combat – Mastered

3. Mach Punch – Mastered

4. Fire Spin – Mastered

5. Thunder Punch – Mastered

6. Fake Out – Mastered

7. Shadow Claw – High Mastery

8. Acrobatics – Mastered

9. Bulk Up – Mastered

10. Calm Mind – Mastered

⋯

Passive Skills

• Combat Instinct – Awakened

• Burning Endurance – Enhanced

• Aura-Infused Motion – Locked

⸻

Trainer :- None

Bond :- 0

⸻

I stared.

And stared.

I've seen the word "King" on only one other thing in this world so far—on a Verdant document my mother had hidden in a sealed file I probably wasn't supposed to see.

And now it was here.

King-ranked Pokémon.

Which meant...

He wasn't just strong.

He was terrifyingly, legendary-level strong.

I swallowed, even though my throat didn't feel dry.

Every skill I could see was Mastered. Not "known." Not "used." Mastered.

And those were just the ones I could see.

That little "⋯" at the end?

That meant there were more.

But I couldn't access them yet.

Either I wasn't strong enough.

Or...

...he didn't want me to.

"Whoa," I whispered.

Infernape tilted his head—just slightly.

Not smug. Not amused.

But curious.

He knew I saw something.

Didn't know what.

But he was definitely watching.

"Is something the matter?" Elder Isolde asked gently, stepping forward.

I shook my head slowly, blinking to clear the display from my vision. It faded back into the unseen realm like dust in sunlight.

"Nope," I said, keeping my face calm. "Just thinking he's really... awesome."

"Damn right, he is," Quorin said proudly. "That one's a fighter through and through. Never bonded with another trainer since his partner passed. But he's still with us. Still trains with the guards. Still wins when it matters."

"He doesn't need a partner," Roan added with an unusual note of respect in his voice. "He's his own pillar."

Infernape made no comment, but I could feel it in my chest.

This one...

He was something else.

And if I ever wanted to walk that same path—walk beside Pokémon as an equal, not just a trainer...

Then I'd have to grow.

A lot.

"You've got a good eye," Elder Virell said, brushing a speck of lint from his coat. "Most children freeze around high-ranked Pokémon. You walked right up to him."

"I figured if he didn't want me near him, he'd have made it very clear," I said, shrugging.

Another pause.

Then all five elders chuckled.

"You may not be able to command him," Roan said, "but you've got sense."

"And presence," Thyros added with a thoughtful nod. "You're small now—but there's weight behind your steps already."

"Well, that is what birthdays are for," Isolde said cheerfully, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. "Growth. Celebration. Discovery."

Quorin grinned and crossed his arms. "Then let's stop drilling the boy like a soldier and do the proper thing."

He stepped forward, raised one arm, and declared in a voice loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear:

"Happy Birthday, John Silver!"

The other elders joined in, their voices following:

"Happy birthday!"

"May your steps stay steady."

"May your fire burn bright."

"May your spirit never bow."

Even Infernape nodded.

Just once.

And that?

That meant more than any of the words.