By the time our training session finally ended, all three of us were exhausted.
The agility drills had looked simple at first glance, especially compared to flashy battle training or high-powered move practice, but after spending hours repeatedly forcing the body to react faster, move more efficiently, and release attacks with less delay, the strain accumulated far more heavily than ordinary combat training.
Even Charmeleon, who normally acted as though training itself was a form of entertainment, looked completely drained as we slowly made our way back toward the cafeteria.
Meowth was even worse.
He had stopped pretending to walk with dignity halfway through the journey and instead dragged himself lazily beside me with the expression of someone questioning every life decision that had led him to this moment.
"You were the one dodging around confidently earlier," I reminded him while pushing open the cafeteria doors.
Meowth immediately looked away as though he hadn't heard anything.
The cafeteria was even busier now compared to the morning, with students occupying nearly every section while conversations and Pokémon cries blended together into constant background noise. The smell of fresh food spread through the large hall, mixing with the sounds of trays moving and trainers discussing battles, assignments, and academy rumors.
Most students looked similarly exhausted.
Apparently we weren't the only ones whose professors believed weekends existed purely to increase suffering.
After grabbing our meals, we settled near one of the larger window sections overlooking the outdoor battle arenas, where several students were still training despite the afternoon heat beginning to settle over the grounds.
The academy food was simple compared to expensive restaurants or specialized trainer meals, but after several hours of nonstop physical training, even ordinary food felt incredible.
Charmeleon ate with complete focus, barely lifting his head from the Pokémon food tray as though the world outside no longer existed, while Meowth abandoned all attempts at appearing lazy once food entered the equation and devoured his portion surprisingly quickly.
Honestly, watching him eat after training always felt slightly deceptive.
One would think a Pokémon that acted as relaxed as him would barely move all day, yet during actual battle or training sessions, he somehow managed to explode with speed whenever necessary.
By the time lunch ended, both Pokémon looked considerably more alive again.
At least for a few minutes.
Once we left the cafeteria, however, the exhaustion from training returned almost immediately.
According to the academy's recommended schedules, the period after lunch was generally reserved as a rest phase for Pokémon, especially after intense physical training, because pushing them continuously without allowing recovery often damaged long-term growth instead of improving it.
Meowth apparently agreed with that philosophy wholeheartedly.
The moment we stepped outside the cafeteria building, he lazily tapped his own Poké Ball hanging from my belt and returned inside with a flash of red light before I could even say anything.
I stared at the ball for a second.
"…You really have become lazy lately."
Professor explanations about his approaching evolution into Persian were starting to feel increasingly believable.
Beside me, Charmeleon remained standing for a few moments longer, though unlike earlier in the day, his movements had slowed noticeably, his body finally beginning to feel the accumulated strain from the morning training session.
"You should rest too," I said while picking up his Poké Ball.
Charmeleon gave a small nod before waiting patiently for me to recall him properly instead of returning on his own like Meowth had.
The difference between them really showed in small habits like this.
Once both Pokémon were resting, the noise around me suddenly felt quieter despite the academy still being filled with activity.
But while they could rest—
I couldn't.
At least not completely.
The academy had made one thing very clear during these past weeks.
A trainer who only relied on battle instinct would eventually hit a wall.
Knowledge mattered.
Maybe not as dramatically as raw strength during beginner battles, but against stronger opponents, preparation and understanding often decided fights long before Pokémon even exchanged attacks.
With that thought in mind, I changed direction and headed toward the academy library.
The building itself was enormous, far larger than any school library I had seen before, with multiple floors dedicated not only to books but also battle records, ecological studies, Pokémon behavior analysis, move theory, medicinal research, and regional exploration reports.
The moment I entered, the atmosphere shifted entirely from the noise of the academy grounds outside.
Quiet conversations.
Turning pages.
Soft footsteps.
Students and professors sat throughout the massive hall studying individually or in groups while holographic screens displayed rotating Pokémon data above certain research tables.
It still felt strange seeing something that futuristic mixed together with ordinary bookshelves.
After briefly searching through the catalog system, I gathered several volumes related to Pokémon typing, move compatibility, battle tendencies, and habitat patterns before settling into one of the quieter corner sections.
Then I started reading.
At first, it felt somewhat tedious.
There were hundreds of Pokémon already documented within the Pokédex system, and trying to memorize every possible move combination or type interaction seemed nearly impossible.
But gradually—
Patterns began forming.
Certain Pokémon preferred specific battle styles depending on their physiology.
Some moves became significantly more dangerous under environmental conditions most trainers ignored.
Others possessed weaknesses that weren't obvious unless someone understood how their bodies actually functioned rather than simply memorizing type charts mechanically.
I spent nearly two hours going through different Pokémon profiles one after another, carefully studying their likely battle approaches while mentally constructing plans for future encounters.
If I encountered a fast Flying-type in an open area, what positioning advantages would Charmeleon need?
How should Meowth approach defensive Rock-types without relying entirely on brute force?
Which Pokémon relied heavily on momentum-based attacks?
Which ones became dangerous only when allowed enough preparation time?
The more I studied, the clearer something became.
Battles between experienced trainers were rarely decided through strength alone.
Information mattered just as much.
Possibly more.
Because knowing what an opponent could do before the battle even started allowed a trainer to shape the fight itself rather than simply reacting blindly.
At some point, I looked up from the book in my hands and noticed sunlight beginning to shift through the library windows, indicating far more time had passed than I initially realized.
Around me, the library remained active, with students continuing their own studies while distant sounds from the academy grounds echoed faintly through the building.
Closing the book slowly, I leaned back slightly in my chair.
The academy was difficult.
Demanding.
And honestly overwhelming sometimes.
But for the first time in my life—
It truly felt like I was becoming a real trainer instead of just someone commanding strong Pokémon.