Reborn in Pokemon With Dragon System

John's Point of View

The room had calmed down.

Well... mostly.

A few balloons drifted lazily above the chandeliers, half-deflated and wobbling like they'd partied harder than the guests. Confetti stuck to the bottom of people's shoes. Clefable had finally run out of streamers—though she was now teaching the Ambipom to juggle jelly donuts with its tails, so the chaos wasn't entirely over.

It was quiet, though.

A few hours had passed. Most of the food was gone. Some of the guests had already started to say their goodbyes. Pokémon and people alike looked satisfied, tired, and—for the most part—happy.

Even I felt... warm.

Not just from the food or the decorations or the waves of affection I'd been caught in all evening.

But from the feeling in the air.

That this was mine.

This celebration, these people... even if I didn't know them all yet.

They were mine.

A bell chimed softly from the far corner of the room.

Then, a voice echoed gently, cutting through the chatter and soft music:

"Everyone," one of the staff called, "it's time for the final moment of the night."

I blinked and looked up just in time to see several heads turn toward me.

Oh no.

My internal danger sensors flared again.

I'd almost made it through this thing unnoticed—well, mostly—and now they were dragging me back into the spotlight.

Someone ushered me forward. I caught sight of my mother smiling warmly near the front of the crowd. Grandma stood beside her, arms crossed but proud, like a lioness admiring her cub.

In front of them...

The cake.

The cake.

Three tiers, covered in pale berry-cream icing. Vines and silver stars danced across the surface, and tiny Pokémon-shaped fruits formed a circle near the bottom. A huge candle sat in the center—tall, elegant, and just waiting for my breath.

I was guided toward it like royalty.

People gathered around.

Pokémon too.

I saw the co-pilot from the plane whisper something to a Blissey and get shushed by a nearby servant. Dragonair floated overhead like a ribbon in the wind. Even Infernape had taken a spot near the back—arms still crossed, but his flame burned a little brighter.

My heart beat faster.

And then—

"Happy birthday to you~!"

Oh Arceus.

They were singing.

I stood still. Frozen. A deerling in headlights.

"Happy birthday to you~!"

Clefable twirled.

Chansey clapped in perfect rhythm.

"Happy birthday, dear Johhhhhn~!"

I looked around. Dozens of eyes on me.

Even a few baby Pokémon started babbling the tune.

"Happy birthday... to youuuu!"

Applause. Cheers. One dramatic whistle from somewhere near the back—probably Quorin.

I was nudged forward again.

"Go on, sweetie," Mama whispered, kneeling behind me. "Make a wish."

"Take your time," Grandma added. "The moment only happens once."

I looked at the candle.

Tall, glowing, flickering in the same rhythm as my breath.

A wish.

One wish.

Out of everything I could've asked for—power, knowledge, freedom—I knew instantly what I wanted.

I closed my eyes.

And I whispered it in my heart.

"I wish... there could be more days like this."

I opened my eyes again.

Took a deep breath.

And blew.

The flame danced—

Then vanished.

A soft breeze passed through the hall, like even the air was exhaling with me.

People clapped. Cheered again. A few sparkles went off from a nearby Togekiss who looked way too happy with its timing.

I stood still for a moment longer, eyes open, but mind far away.

More days like this.

Warmth. Laughter. Pokémon. Family.

Even if I didn't know everything yet—even if there were things I couldn't say—I meant every word of that wish.

Because today...

Today was the first time in either of my lives that I felt truly celebrated.

"Alright, little Litleo," Grandma said suddenly, clapping her hands. "Time for the final step."

"Huh?"

Mama laughed gently, standing beside her. "Your presents. Go on—go open them."

My eyes widened.

I turned.

The table full of elegant boxes and colorful wrapping paper was still there—stacked high, decorated with ribbons and tags, glittering in the low evening light.

I started walking—faster than I meant to—toward the gifts.

The crowd parted slightly, letting me through.

Behind me, I heard soft laughter. Pokémon voices. Familiar footsteps.

But I didn't turn back.

Because right now?

The future felt bright.

And as I reached the table, hand stretching toward the nearest ribbon, a thought bubbled up in the back of my mind:

I can't wait to see what's in the forest outside this place.

Because parties were nice.

But the wild?

That's where my heart truly lived.

And it was calling to me.

Soon.

Elders' Shared Point of View

The candles had long been blown out.

The confetti drifted like quiet snow across polished floors, and soft music played somewhere distant as the last waves of celebration finally began to settle. Staff and servants had begun cleaning in silence, while the remaining guests gathered in small clusters, sipping from crystal glasses or tending to drowsy Pokémon curled beneath long banquet tables.

At the edge of the grand hall, just behind a silver-trimmed arch leading to a moonlit veranda, five figures stood in semi-circle formation, each dressed in formal attire—but more importantly, wearing the expressions of people deep in thought.

The Circle of Silver.

The Elders.

Their eyes weren't on the stars. Nor on the guests.

They were focused on one thing.

A small boy in a crisp black tuxedo, tearing wrapping paper like a Zigzagoon on a sugar rush, his laughter echoing like windchimes through the fading night.

John Silver.

The youngest heir in the family's modern history.

And perhaps, the most unusual.

⸻

"You know," Quorin said first, arms crossed, voice low, "I've seen raw recruits with less control than that boy."

"He barely blinked through the entire candle ceremony," Thyros noted. "Every eye in the hall was on him. That much attention should have made him cry or freeze. He didn't do either."

"He carried himself like he expected it," Virell added, his tone unusually thoughtful. "Like he was already used to being watched."

Roan gave a short grunt but didn't turn from his spot beside the archway. "I've observed child prodigies before. Early learners. Psychic-sensitives. Even one Aura-bonded child back in Sileya. But none of them could hide their instinctual responses this well. Not at that age."

"And yet, he doesn't feel... closed off," Isolde murmured softly. "He's warm. Kind. But balanced. Like someone who's already endured something and found peace in the middle of it."

There was a pause.

A long one.

Only the gentle chime of glass and the humming of a Gardevoir nearby filled the silence.

"He's not normal," Quorin finally muttered. "But not in a bad way."

"No," Thyros agreed. "Just... ahead of the curve."

"Far ahead," Roan said.

⸻

And then—

A low, gravel-deep voice rose from behind them.

"He's not simple."

All five elders turned.

Infernape stood a few steps away, just inside the shadows of a supporting column, arms still crossed, flames burning slowly above his head in a steady, rhythmic flicker. He had not moved all evening. Had not spoken to anyone. Until now.

"He watches with the eyes of a fighter," Infernape continued. His Terran was clear, composed—spoken by a King-Ranked Pokémon who had nothing left to prove. "Not in technique. Not yet. But in spirit. In breath."

He looked toward John, who was now hugging a Blissey plush while Butterfree tried to explain the importance of decorative bows.

"He doesn't see the world the way children do," Infernape said. "He sees it like it's a challenge. Like it's waiting for him."

None of the elders responded immediately.

Then Quorin grinned. "Heh. So I wasn't imagining it."

"Infernape," Thyros said with a respectful nod. "You've met warriors across generations. If you say he has the heart of one... then I'll believe it."

"But still a heart," Isolde reminded. **"He's a child. He deserves time."

Infernape nodded once. "I am not rushing him. I am only saying... it's in him. The hunger. The weight. The flame."

Roan folded his arms. "Early-stage psychic potential. That's our working theory, anyway. Explains the emotional regulation. The deep observation."

"It would make sense," Virell murmured, placing a gloved hand beneath his chin. "Psychic awareness often begins with empathy and control over one's environment. He may not know what he's doing—but he is doing it."

"Then we'll monitor him," Thyros said. "Quietly. Let him grow into it."

"And train him when he's ready," Quorin added with a smirk.

"Protect him until then," Isolde finished, voice soft but firm.

⸻

They watched him in silence for a moment longer.

The moonlight danced along his hair as he opened another gift and beamed with innocent delight. Clefable clapped with her whole body. John laughed so hard he nearly tipped backward.

Whatever power lay beneath that skin, that smile...

It wasn't ready to awaken.

Not yet.

But one day?

The Silver family would remember this moment.

The night the fire first flickered behind the boy's eyes.

And the warrior began to stir.

End of Arc 1

Hi guys Blackviper1738 here!

And so ends Arc I: The Calm Before the Storm.

The days of quiet growth, secret smiles, and hidden potential have come to a close. From here on out, the pace will shift. What was once gentle and warm will now begin to move faster—like wind rising before thunder.

John's world is no longer limited to rooms, halls, and hidden thoughts.

The forest waits.

The bloodline deepens.

Old powers stir.

And unseen eyes are starting to take notice.

What began as a curious, clever child's story... is about to evolve into something far greater.

This is where it truly begins.

Next: Arc II – Whispers of the Wild

Are you ready?