Pokemon: Master of tactics-Chapter 442

After evaluating all the tests, Alex selected the six highest-rated papers and placed them neatly in front of him.

He pressed a button embedded in Maria's desk. His voice echoed through the entire facility via loudspeaker.

"Hello, children. I've finished reviewing your tests. Six of you showed notable potential. To confirm my evaluation, I'll be conducting personal interviews with those six."

A brief pause.

"If you don't hear your name, don't be discouraged. This wasn't the only opportunity. You have more than enough time to grow—and to become trainers."

Another pause.

"Camila. Please come to Maria's office immediately."

Alex released the button, cutting the broadcast.

He reached for Gardevoir's Poké Ball and released her at his side.

"Gardevoir," he said quietly, gesturing to a large movable board covered in numbers, "could you hide behind that and tell me how the children feel while answering my questions?"

She understood instantly.

No problem, Father, Gardevoir replied telepathically, gliding behind the board and settling near the wall.

Less than a minute later, a knock sounded at the door.

Alex adjusted his posture and spoke in a mildly inviting tone. "Come in."

The door opened, and Camila stepped inside.

At first glance, she was unremarkable—and Alex knew immediately that this was deliberate.

She was eleven, of average height, with a lean frame that suggested balance rather than neglect. Her clothes were clean but visibly worn at the seams, chosen for durability over appearance: a muted jacket with reinforced elbows, sturdy boots, nothing that would tear easily or draw attention. No bright colors. Nothing memorable at a distance.

Her dark hair was pulled back tightly—not for neatness, but to keep it out of the way. A few loose strands framed her face, softening features that might otherwise have appeared sharp. Her eyes, however, were alert and calculating, already scanning the room the moment she crossed the threshold.

Alex noted her movement.

No wasted steps. No hesitation. She closed the door quietly behind her—not out of courtesy, but habit. Someone who disliked being overheard. Someone who respected boundaries.

Her posture was straight without being rigid. Balanced. Ready.

She doesn't dress to be seen, Alex thought. She dresses to last.

Faint marks lined her hands—old scratches, half-faded calluses. Not from Pokémon training. From work.

When her gaze finally settled on him, it didn't drop.

No defiance. No challenge.

only Assessment.

The outskirts of this town really do forge capable children, Alex thought with faint approval.

"Camila," he said aloud, gesturing toward the chair, "please sit. There's no need to be nervous. Your performance was already among the best. This interview is mostly a formality."

Camila studied his expression closely—and didn't believe a word of it.

She had a talent for reading faces and gestures. It was one of the reasons she hadn't gone hungry as often as the other children. Alex's ability to lie was impressive, she admitted—but not exceptional.

She had seen better.

None of that showed on her face.

"Thank you very much, Benefactor," she said politely. Camila seemed grateful.

Alex might have believed her if his senses hadn't disagreed.

She doesn't feel gratitude, Gardevoir confirmed calmly. Her emotional response is minimal.

Alex smiled.

Looking directly into Camila's eyes, he said, "You're clever for your age—clever enough to try acting loyal. But you're also arrogant enough to think I'd fall for it."

Camila held his gaze for several seconds. Then she dropped the act.

"I apologize," she said honestly. "I'm not used to meeting smart people like you."

Alex ignored the compliment.

"Enough of this," he said flatly. "You already know why you're here."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Answer me one question."

"What are Pokémon to you?"

For a moment, Camila didn't answer.

Not because she was afraid.

Because she was calculating.

The question wasn't simple. Not really. It wasn't asking what Pokémon were. It was asking what she would use them for. What she would admit to. What she would try to hide.

She folded her hands in her lap, posture relaxed but deliberate.

"Pokémon," she began carefully, "are power."

Alex didn't react.

"They're protection," she continued. "Leverage. Mobility. Labor. Information. Depending on the species, they can be any of those—or all of them."

She paused, watching his eyes for a flicker of disapproval.

There was none.

"They're also expensive," Camila added bluntly. "To raise properly. To improve. To replace if you're careless."

Alex raised an eyebrow. Just a fraction.

"So," he said, "you see them as tools."

Camila nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

No guilt, Gardevoir's voice brushed against his mind.

Alex leaned back in his chair.

"Then why do some trainers name them?" he asked. "Why bond? Why risk their lives for creatures that could be replaced?"

Camila's fingers tightened slightly.

"Because tools perform better when they're maintained," she said. "And loyalty—real loyalty—is an asset you can't buy."

That earned her a reaction.

Alex's smile was thin, but not genuine.

"You're careful with your words," he noted. "Yet you're not lying now."

Camila shrugged lightly. "Lying wastes time right now."

That one line told Alex more than half the test combined.

"You value Power," he said.

"Yes," Camila replied. "Because Power decide who gets to choose—and who has to beg."

Her voice didn't waver.

"I don't want to beg anymore."

Silence settled between them.

Alex studied her the way one might study a battlefield before committing troops. Not judging. Measuring.

She's dangerous, Gardevoir observed. But still stable.

Alex nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Tell me something else," he said. "If a Pokémon stops being profitable—injured, weakened, outdated—what do you do?"

Camila didn't answer immediately this time.

She thought of broken carts sold for scrap. Of knives sharpened until there was nothing left to grind. Of people who stopped pulling their weight.

"I reassess," she said finally. "If it can recover, I invest. If it can be repurposed, I adapt. If it's a net loss with no future value…"

She met his eyes.

"I cut my losses."

No hesitation, Gardevoir noted. But no pleasure either.

Alex exhaled slowly.

"That mindset," Alex said, standing, "will make you powerful."

Camila's eyes sharpened.

"But," he continued, "it will also destroy you if left unchecked."

She frowned slightly. Not offended. Curious.

"Greed for Power is fuel," Alex said calmly. "Not a destination. If you let it decide everything, you'll eventually lose something you can't afford to lose."

"What would that be?" Camila asked.

Alex didn't answer.

Instead, he turned toward the door.

"You'll find out," he said. "If you earn the chance. Though I'd suggest adjusting your mindset—unless you want to learn that lesson the hard way."

He paused, then added over his shoulder, "Wait outside. Don't speak to the others about this interview."

Camila stood.

"Yes, Benefactor."

This time, Gardevoir felt something real.

Interest, she reported.

Camila left the room without another word.

When the door closed, Alex remained still for a long moment.

"I don't really like her," he said quietly.

Yes, Gardevoir agreed.

Alex smiled faintly.

"But she's controllable and controllable," he said, "is something I can work with."

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