Xiu paused for a moment before the imposing glass doors of the Pokémon League Certification Center, taking in the modern architecture, the subtle but undeniable aura of authority it projected. Then, steeling himself, he walked up the steps and through the entrance.
This building served a crucial function, just as its name implied: official League certification. Here, aspiring Breeders, Trainers, Coordinators, and other specialists underwent rigorous testing to obtain recognized qualifications. It was the gateway to legitimacy within the Pokémon world's established structures.
Beyond professional certifications, this Center also held another, perhaps even more significant function: granting direct qualification for the Kanto League Conference. Success in specific high-level examinations held here could bypass the traditional Gym Badge requirement, allowing exceptionally skilled individuals direct entry into the region's premier tournament. It was the only such facility in the entire Kanto region with this authority – one of the primary reasons Xiu hadn't immediately left Fuchsia City after securing his new identity and initial funding.
The lobby was spacious, modern, and surprisingly uncrowded. Unlike the bustling Pokémon Center, most of the people moving through this space wore official uniforms or business attire – staff members, administrators. The rows of benches intended for waiting applicants were largely empty.
Xiu approached the main information desk. "Hello," he stated clearly. "I'm here to register for the Junior Breeder Qualification Certification exam."
The receptionist, a young woman with a professional, practiced smile, nodded politely. "Hello. The next scheduled Breeder certification testing cycle begins in three days," she informed him smoothly. "If you wish to register, please fill out this information form and submit the required registration fee."
"Sure, no problem." Xiu replied, his expression neutral. He'd already researched the schedules online. No surprise there.
"This way, please," she gestured towards a nearby electronic registration kiosk.
Xiu completed the process efficiently, inputting his newly acquired identification details, transferring the hefty registration fee – over a thousand Poké Dollars – from his account. In return, he received a printed piece of stiff cardstock, much like an admission ticket for an event, displaying his registration data and a small headshot digitally captured by the kiosk. Included was a pamphlet detailing the specifics of the Junior Breeder certification process.
Before he could even glance at the pamphlet, the receptionist was already politely ushering him away. "Please retain your admission ticket and relevant identification. Report back here in three days for the examination commencement. Next, please."
Stepping back out into the relative quiet of the lobby, Xiu finally had a moment to review the information. The Breeder certification exam, even at the Junior level, was comprehensive. It aimed to rigorously test a candidate's foundational knowledge and practical skills.
The process was divided into two main parts: a written examination and a practical skills assessment.
The written portion, according to the pamphlet, covered a broad range of topics: fundamental Pokémon biology, type matchups and characteristics, basic pharmacology and material analysis (identifying herbs, berries, minerals), injury assessment, first aid principles, habitat knowledge, and ethical considerations.
The practical assessment was less defined, the specific tasks varying each testing cycle. It could involve anything from treating simulated Pokémon injuries, preparing specific dietary rations or medicinal compounds, accurately identifying rare Pokémon species or obscure materials, or even demonstrating basic handling and calming techniques. The goal was to assess real-world competency across a variety of potential scenarios.
'Rigorous,' Xiu thought, scanning the requirements. 'This isn't just any regular certification exam.' The certificate actually represents a proven level of competence. Which, in turn, meant it held real value in this world.
Pushing aside the daunting scope of the exam for the moment, Xiu left the Certification Center. He didn't return to his apartment. Instead, he headed back towards the forested outskirts of the city, seeking solitude. He spent the next three days in self-imposed isolation, camping rough again, immersing himself completely in nature.
He trained intensely with Abra and Scyther, pushing their limits, observing their progress. And he studied relentlessly, poring over the Stationmaster's notebooks and the official texts he now possessed, cramming complex knowledge points, cross-referencing information, trying to anticipate the exam's challenges.
The three days passed in a blur of focused activity. When Xiu emerged from the woods on the morning of the exam and returned to the Certification Center, he looked physically haggard – dark circles under his eyes, clothes slightly travel-worn – but his eyes burned with an intense, focused self-confidence.
The Certification Center was drastically different today. The lobby buzzed with nervous energy, a long queue of applicants snaking back from the registration desks. Xiu took his place at the end of the line, observing the other candidates.
It was a diverse crowd. Teenagers like himself, though seemingly fewer in number. Young adults in their twenties, looking determined, perhaps on their second or third attempt. Even some older individuals, likely seeking a career change or formalizing existing skills— their faces etched with anxiety. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and stress.
Nearby conversations drifted over. Some nervously quizzed each other on last-minute facts. Others murmured prayers or positive affirmations. A couple of young men boasted loudly about their preparedness, predicting top scores, dreaming of catching the eye of influential figures who sometimes observed the practical exams.
"...failed twice already, but this time, this time I'm ready! Gotta impress the examiners..."
"...heard Professor Elm's associate might be proctoring the practicals? Getting noticed by her lab…"
"...just hope the practical isn't ration formulation again, my herb identification is weak..."
The line moved efficiently. Soon, it was Xiu's turn. "Hello, I'm here for the Junior Breeder exam," He stated, handing over his admission ticket and new ID card.
The staff member scanned the documents quickly, verified his identity on their terminal, stamped his ticket with a bright red seal indicating 'Checked In', and handed them back. "Proceed to Examination Hall B on the third floor. Good luck."
Xiu followed the flow of other candidates towards the designated elevators and corridors, eventually arriving at Examination Hall B. He paused at the entrance, surprised. It wasn't a small testing room, but a large lecture hall, similar in size to a university classroom, capable of holding hundreds of candidates at individual desks.
And on each desk sat not a paper exam booklet, but one of those bulky, integrated computer terminals he'd used at the Pokémon Center. 'Computerized testing?' All the pencils and erasers he'd carefully prepared were suddenly useless.
He located his assigned seat number, sat down, and spent a few minutes familiarizing himself with the testing interface on the terminal while waiting for the exam to begin. People continued filing in, the large hall gradually filling, the low murmur of anxious conversation rising.
He overheard more snippets from nearby candidates.
"...hope I pass this time, my family's counting on me..."
"...top ten percent usually get recruitment offers from the major Pokémon Centers or breeding facilities..."
"...if I flunk this again, I'm just gonna give up and go work at my uncle's Poké Mart..."
"...wonder who the head proctor is today? Last year it was Dr. Fuji himself…"
'So, this exam isn't just about qualification,' Xiu realized. It's also a recruitment pool— a talent show. Performing well didn't just earn a certificate; it could open doors, attract attention from potential employers or even powerful mentors. The stakes felt even higher now.
A sharp bell rang, cutting through the chatter, silencing the room instantly. A middle-aged man wearing spectacles and a crisp lab coat walked briskly to the podium at the front of the hall, carrying a thin stack of papers. The familiar routine – bells, proctors, hushed silence – sparked a strange sense of déjá vu in Xiu, a muscle memory from his previous life's endless examinations. 'Right. Exam time.' Unlike many around him who seemed to tense up at the bell, a faint, almost predatory smile touched Xiu's lips.
"Good morning, candidates," The proctor began, his voice amplified slightly by the room's acoustics. "I am Dr. Hemlock, your proctor for this written examination section of the Junior Breeder Certification. Please listen carefully to the instructions." He paused, scanning the room. "The written exam duration is three hours. All responses will be submitted via the terminal before you. The examination consists of several sections: true/false judgments, multiple-choice questions, short answer responses, and longer explanatory essays..."
As Dr. Hemlock continued outlining the rules and procedures, Xiu saw his own terminal screen displaying the official exam instructions. 'One exam per year,' he recalled reading. Same timing as the Trainer qualification tests next door.
When the proctor finished his instructions, the screen changed again, displaying a large digital countdown timer starting from three hours. As the timer hit zero, the first page of the examination digitally appeared. A wave of intense concentration settled over the hall.
Xiu took a breath and began.
As he worked through the questions, navigating through sections, typing responses, clicking selections, he quickly realized the true difficulty wasn't just the breadth of knowledge required, but the sheer volume and density of the exam itself. The time pressure was immense. Seventy multiple-choice questions, fifty true/false, numerous short answers requiring precise terminology, and several complex essay prompts demanding detailed analysis and application of principles.
And the questions themselves… they were tricky. Covering obscure facts, niche biological processes, subtle differences between similar species, complex ethical dilemmas. Worse, many questions seemed deliberately misleading, riddled with hidden assumptions, double negatives, and factual 'errors' that required careful scrutiny to identify and address correctly. Was it poor question design, or was testing critical thinking and attention to detail part of the examination itself?
'This isn't just testing knowledge,' Xiu realized grimly as he tackled a particularly convoluted pharmacology question. 'It's testing resilience, speed, accuracy under pressure, and the ability to see through bullsh*t.'
It was, indeed, a crucible.