Pokemon : Negative Emotion System

The sun was melting into the horizon, painting the endless ocean with streaks of gold and crimson. The sky blushed in the fading light, while the waves gently shimmered like molten glass.

And right in the middle of this scenic masterpiece?

David and his crew trudging through the bushes like half-lost tourists in a nature documentary, heading deeper into the Mystery Zone.

As they walked, wild Pokémon began popping up left and right like background NPCs finally getting screen time. A Golduck lounged dramatically on the shore of a lake, like it had just wrapped up a shampoo commercial. Up in the trees, an Aipom peeked through the leaves, curiously tracking them like a squirrel with trust issues. Pidgey wheeled above in lazy circles while Rattata jumped out of the tall grass with the frequency and intensity of malfunctioning Jack-in-the-boxes.

David, dressed in his slightly-too-tight explorer outfit that made him look like a budget Indiana Jones, trudged along silently with Ralts perched in his arms like a spoiled kitten. His expression was the emotional equivalent of a gray cloud—moody, furrowed brows, distant gaze.

"Oddish and Poochyena were supposed to come back by dinner," he muttered, scanning the forest behind them like a suburban mom looking for her missing cats. "Where the heck did they go?"

Luna, walking calmly next to him and adjusting her gloves like she'd just come from fencing practice, tried to reassure him in her usual rational tone. "Maybe they just got full and wandered off? Wild Pokémon don't usually stick around humans."

"Maybe something stronger ate them?" Tom offered with a completely straight face as he scratched his head.

David turned and gave Tom a look that could curdle milk.

"No," he said flatly. "We're on the edge of the Mystery Zone. Nothing strong hangs around here. It's basically the kiddie pool of wild zones."

And as for Luna's theory?

David scoffed inwardly. That Oddish had been exchanging Water Stones for energy cubes like it was running a black market snack cartel. No way it just 'left.'

Three Pokémon missing. Three potential negative emotion point machines—gone.

David let out a dramatic sigh. His soul felt like a half-deflated beach ball.

He pulled out a ridiculously vibrant fruit from his backpack—so colorful it looked like someone had set a rainbow on fire—and waved it in front of the thin, scruffy guy walking ahead of them.

"Hey, Uncle," David called, voice smooth. "Wanna snack?"

The guy—Zhou Qi—instantly turned around like someone had offered him gold bars dipped in barbecue sauce. He'd spent the last two days watching David and his friends chow down on steaming hotpot while he survived off what looked suspiciously like cardboard and sorrow.

"You're serious?" Zhou Qi's eyes glimmered like someone finally remembered his birthday. "I mean… uh… maybe I shouldn't."

His enthusiasm quickly turned into cautious hesitation as he stared at the suspiciously flashy fruit in David's hand. It looked like it had been painted by a five-year-old with no sense of danger.

"Wait, where'd you get that thing?" he asked warily.

David pointed nonchalantly to a very large, very ominous-looking tree nearby.

And right on cue, the system cheerfully chimed in David's ear like a smug little devil:

[Negative Emotion Points +100 from Zhou Qi…]

[Negative Emotion Points +100 from Zhou Qi…]

[Negative Emotion Points +100 from Zhou Qi…]

Zhou Qi sighed like a man who had just realized he'd been lured into a cartoon trap.

"Listen, maybe don't eat random glowing fruit from spooky-looking trees," he said, eyebrows twitching. "A lot of stuff in the Mystery Zone is toxic to humans. Like… hallucinate-and-die levels of toxic."

David, feeling instantly better from the sweet sound of negativity fueling his internal scoreboard, nodded with mock seriousness.

"Oh, totally. I wasn't gonna eat it," he replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I just wanted to see if you would. Y'know, in the name of science."

Zhou Qi's mouth dropped open slightly. His eyes narrowed as if trying to calculate how many brain cells had just been insulted.

"You wanted me to test if it was poisonous?" he asked, voice trembling somewhere between confusion and existential regret.

David gave a casual shrug, like this was perfectly normal behavior in the field of Pokémon research.

"I mean, someone's gotta do the hard work."

Zhou Qi turned back around slowly, like a man who had accepted his fate in a sitcom. His expression screamed: Why did I sign up for this group again?

Ralts let out a tiny giggle from David's arms, clearly enjoying the show.

Behind them, Tom was already taking selfies with a nearby Bidoof. Luna muttered under her breath and picked up the pace.

The sun dipped even lower, casting long shadows through the trees as the group continued deeper into the Mystery Zone—one grumpy uncle short on trust, one sarcastic trainer richer in points, and a missing trio of Pokémon nowhere to be seen.

Zhou Qi had just opened his mouth to say something else—probably another lecture about why David shouldn't be offering strangers fruit that looked like it was dipped in radioactive paint—when a deafening roar exploded from somewhere deep in the forest behind them.

"RAAAHHHH!!!"

It echoed across the lake like a subwoofer blast from hell.

The earth itself seemed to vibrate. Even the previously calm lake surface started rippling like it had heard the roar and said, Nope. I'm out.

David froze, mid-chew on a sour gummy he'd been sneak-eating from his pocket. His eyebrows rose slowly, the way someone's do when they realize they've probably done something really stupid. Again.

A few steps behind the group, Ling Qi—one of the more seasoned trainers with them—jerked his head toward the trees, his expression going from relaxed to full-on 'we need to leave now' mode.

His voice was urgent, low, and dead serious.

"That's not good! That's an Ursaring's roar! Everyone move! Quick!"

The moment the word "Ursaring" left his mouth, everyone suddenly remembered they had functioning legs. The entire group picked up the pace like a mall-walking team that just spotted a Black Friday sale.

You didn't need to be a Pokémon expert to understand what that roar meant. Something very big, very hairy, and very angry was stomping around nearby. And it wasn't alone.

But David?

David was just standing there, blinking toward the forest as if trying to spot a lost package.

He muttered to himself, "Man… why's that laxative kicking in so slow?"

Ling Qi, now double-checking the group's numbers at the back, paused mid-step and turned to see David still rooted to the spot.

"DAVID! Stop monologuing to the trees and MOVE!"

He stomped over, narrowed eyes scanning David from head to toe like he was trying to sniff out a confession.

"…This Ursaring thing," Ling Qi said slowly, arms crossed, "It doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?"

David snapped out of his thoughts and threw his hands up in mock innocence.

"What? Me? Noooo! I swear on the life of Tom!"

Ling Qi raised an eyebrow so high it nearly exited the frame.

David doubled down, "I mean, maybe the Ursaring just… I dunno… ate something bad? Like, a spoiled berry? Bad mushrooms?"

Ling Qi stared at him the way teachers look at kids who answer "potato" on a math test.

"Right," he said dryly. "Because Ursaring—a Pokémon with the digestion power of a garbage compactor—totally got taken down by a sketchy salad."

He sighed, deeply. His soul was tired.

Truth be told, Ling Qi was terrified David would someday swear on his life to get out of trouble. He didn't trust that kind of karmic energy.

Besides, what kind of idiot would actually feed a giant bear Pokémon something that would mess with its digestive tract? Thousands of Laxatives?

(He didn't know it yet, but congratulations—he'd just accidentally solved the case.)

Ling Qi decided to stop pressing. What was the point? David was basically a chaos magnet wrapped in denim. He just shook his head and gave him a warning.

"Listen. We're lucky we moved fast this time. But next time, when we're deeper in, if Ursaring goes full rage-mode in close quarters? We're done for."

He glanced toward the forest again and added grimly, "The poor Trainers who came in after us are probably already regretting their lives."

David put a hand to his chest and nodded solemnly, "Don't worry, Uncle Ling. I won't get caught by them."

Ling Qi blinked. "…What do you mean caught?"

David paused. Too late.

"…Wait," Ling Qi said, squinting. "You DID do it, didn't you?!"

David scratched his head and grinned sheepishly, "Uhhh… I thought you meant not to get caught. I didn't know you meant not to cause trouble. Total misunderstanding. My bad."

Ling Qi looked like he was going to pop a vein. "That's EXACTLY what I meant! NOT TO CAUSE TROUBLE!"

David nodded, clearly not getting the message at all.

"Yup! Got it now. No worries, Uncle Ling. You know me—I never cause trouble!"

Ling Qi twitched. A literal black line of frustration might as well have formed across his forehead.

It's BECAUSE I know you that I'm worried!

This wasn't even the first time David had made a ridiculous, overconfident promise that turned out to be the verbal equivalent of summoning disaster. And sure enough…

Ding!

The familiar system tone rang out in David's head like a cheerful bell:

[Gained 100 negative emotion points from Ling Qi…]

[Gained 80 negative emotion points from Ursaring…]

[Gained 90 negative emotion points from Jake…]

Wait. What?

"Jake?" David mumbled aloud, squinting at the third name. "Jake is here too? Since when?"

He looked around with a puzzled expression, as if Jake might pop out of a tree or come barreling down the path being chased by another angry bear.

And honestly, given how things were going today, that wouldn't even be the weirdest thing.

****

David squinted toward the entrance of the Mystery Zone, barely visible through the shifting trees and golden haze of dusk. It couldn't have been more than two kilometers away.

And yet, chaos had arrived.

Because barreling through the undergrowth like furry tanks on a rampage came a full-blown herd of raging Ursaring.

Behind them? A forest blanketed in a foul, sour stench so powerful it could've been weaponized. It was like the air itself gave up and decided to die.

At the head of the chaos, sprinting for dear life, was none other than Jake—arms flailing, legs pumping like spaghetti noodles, his face locked in pure panic. And to top it all off?

He was covered—and not just lightly smeared, but absolutely decorated—in some highly suspect, murky-brown goop.

"WHY?!" Jake cried as he ran, pinching his own nose with one hand while dodging low-hanging branches. "WHY ARE THESE CRAZY BEARS THROWING POO AT US?!"

"Keep running!" shouted the trainer leading the group, practically vibrating with anxiety. "Just get back to the camp! Once we hit the entrance barrier, we're safe!"

From the look on his face, he was reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this precise moment. Once an elite Trainer, proud leader of his own little expedition squad, he now found himself in a nightmare where every footstep brought him closer to either salvation… or being splattered again.

How did it all go so wrong?

Well, not long ago, this guy had been hired—by Jake's own parents, no less—to take the chubby, overconfident teen into the Mystery Zone for "graduation combat training." A trial run, really. Let the kid stretch his legs, get a feel for the wild, build some character. This kind of gig was common every summer. Rich parents hiring Trainers to escort their kids into the zone, help them prep for the real exam.

It was a steady source of income for most adventure parties. Predictable. Safe.

Until today.

It started normally. They crossed the threshold, stretched, did the usual orientation speech. Everyone was in high spirits.

Then, they smelled it.

At first, no one really reacted. It was faint, just a little whiff of something… earthy. Strong, but tolerable. They joked about a nearby Gloom or maybe a Snorlax with hygiene issues.

But then they walked deeper. The smell got worse. It clung to their clothes, seeped into their nostrils, and soon, people were gagging. Eyes were watering. Hair curled.

And just as someone said, "Maybe we should turn back," they walked into the most unfortunate wildlife documentary of all time.

A field of Ursaring. Not sleeping. Not fighting. Not even eating.

Nope.

They were, in perfect synchronization, relieving themselves. En masse.

Jake, in his infinite wisdom, saw this disgusting but majestic spectacle and made the mistake of opening his mouth.

"Ew! What are they doing?! This is like… poop yoga!"

His words, carried on the breeze, reached the ears of the nearest Ursaring. And it turned.

Eyes glowing.

Expression murderous.

You know the phrase, don't poke the bear?

Jake didn't poke. He verbally insulted. And that was enough.

The massive beast roared in offense, and the others—already mid-defecation—turned with it. Furious and not even finished with their business, they charged, dragging behind them the most horrific attack combo the forest had ever seen:

Furious speed. Giant claws. And projectile poop.

The stuff wasn't exactly damaging in the traditional sense—no physical impact, no knockback—but it delivered psychic-level trauma. Magic damage. Emotional devastation. And a scent that could haunt your soul.

Now, the entire group was scrambling for the entrance like their lives depended on it—because in a way, their dignitydefinitely did.

Jake, panting, looked like a walking disaster. His hair was matted with gunk, his pants smeared with… well, everything. As he ran, he shouted over his shoulder:

"I just wanted to see a Pikachu, not get dunked by a poop army!"

The lead trainer, who had long since stopped caring about dignity or pride, was running purely on adrenaline and regrets.

First time I meet the kid… and he triggers a bear stampede using nothing but sarcasm.

He should've charged double.

Behind them, Ursaring were still rampaging like they had a personal vendetta against shampoo. Trees shook with every stomp, bushes exploded in brownish flecks, and birds fled the scene like it was the apocalypse.

And yet, amidst the chaos, one question echoed in the hearts of all:

How. Did. This. Happen.

Jake, for his part, had no answers. Only regrets. And a really bad smell.

And this was just his first day in the Mystery Zone.

If this was how it started… what kind of disaster would he cause next?

****

At the entrance to the campsite, things had started going downhill long before the actual Ursaring chaos arrived.

A thick, eye-watering stench began to spread like a disease in the air, curling into nostrils and making noses scrunch up from every corner of the base.

"Ugh! What's that awful smell?! Who dropped a Muk in here!?"

One of the Alliance garrison officers clutched his nose and glared suspiciously at his colleague across the field.

"Hey, this better not be your Nidoking and Nidoqueen pulling their usual stunt again."

The other guy spun around in outrage, pointing a finger like he'd been accused of war crimes.

"Excuse me?! My Nidoqueen is a lady, thank you very much! She would never mess around like your trashy little Illumise!"

"TRASHY?! You take that back! She's a sweet, innocent Bug-type angel—!"

"Oh yeah? Then explain the three Volbeats behind the supply tent!"

Tension rose like a battle about to erupt, but their shouting match was cut short by a deep rumble that shook the ground beneath their boots. At first it was subtle, like distant thunder—until the tremors became violent enough to knock over water tanks and make Poké Balls roll off tables.

One supply trainer stumbled, pointing at the distant tree line with wide eyes.

"Uh… guys? You might wanna look at that."

Everyone turned to see a cloud of dust rising fast, kicked up by what looked like a stampede. But it wasn't Tauros. It wasn't Donphan. No.

It was a full-on Ursaring horde. Twenty—maybe thirty—massive, furious bears, all charging together like they were storming the gates of Mount Olympus.

And leading the way, looking like he'd rolled down a sewage hill and lost a fight with a Skuntank, was Jake.

The once-shiny gold-rimmed glasses on his face were now completely brown, dripping with something no one wanted to identify. His hair was matted, his face streaked, his jacket trailing behind him like a flag of surrender—only this flag had been soiled beyond recognition.

Behind him, the rest of the expedition party weren't faring any better. They were all splattered in the same mysterious horror, each one carrying the expression of someone who had seen things they'd never recover from.

From the smell alone, the garrison knew immediately what it was.

"Is that…?"

"Yep."

"Ursaring poop."

"Sweet Arceus, why?!"

Someone panicked and screamed, "DON'T LET THEM IN! FOR THE LOVE OF THE CAMP, DON'T LET THEM BRING THAT CURSED STUFF IN HERE!"

But of course, Jake and his team didn't hear a word. They had one goal—get inside or get mauled. And considering what was behind them, poop-covered dignity was a price they were absolutely willing to pay.

They stumbled through the camp gates in full panic, dragging stink and disaster behind them like they were starring in a nature documentary titled "When Bears Attack… With Their Butts."

Behind them, the Ursarings stormed through the clearing with rage in their eyes and claws out, their roars shaking the trees.

Captain Grant, the head of the garrison, charged out with his Rhyperior by his side, waving his arms and yelling at the advancing Pokémon like someone yelling at toddlers in a grocery store.

"HEY! What's gotten into you guys?! What the heck is going on?!"

He wasn't new to this post. He'd been stationed here in the Mystery Zone for nearly three years. He knew these Ursarings. They weren't dangerous—not usually, anyway. They lived peacefully in the outskirts, under the protection of the King of the Forest. Most days, they were just oversized teddy bears who traded berries for snacks and did weird yoga stretches near the river.

But now?

Now they were launching biological warfare.

Captain Grant barely had time to register the situation before one of the Ursaring stopped charging, stared directly at him… and hurled a steaming, brown clump of terror that smacked him square on the chest with a moist splack!

His mouth hung open in horror. "I… I trusted you…"

Now, the trust was broken.

Bearkind would not forgive. Bearkind would not forget. Bearkind would not be slaves!

With furious roars, the horde attacked, claws slashing, poop flying, chaos reigning.

Rhyperior roared back and stood his ground, but there was only so much one Pokémon could do against twenty angry bears with diarrhea and a vendetta.

Inside the camp, students—there to train, observe, and maybe catch a Bidoof or two—started screaming. One girl burst into tears. A guy tried to climb a tree. Others just stood frozen, pale as Ghost-types, trying to decide if this was a prank, a nightmare, or part of the exam.

Jake—who still hadn't wiped his glasses—staggered over to a group of defenders and shouted, "WHAT ARE YOU STANDING AROUND FOR?! FIGHT BACK! FIGHT THEM! DO SOMETHING!"

One of the garrison guards slowly turned, took one look at Jake's poop-streaked face, and recoiled like he'd seen a Muk crawling out of a toilet.

"Who even ARE you?" the guard muttered.

They weren't going to listen to some random stink-bomb of a teenager. And anyway, they couldn't just start blasting Ursarings left and right. Not these ones.

Because these weren't wild Pokémon. These were the chosen. Handpicked by the King of the Forest himself. Sacred, protected, and—on most days—adorably friendly.

If they killed even one Ursaring?

The King might descend from the woods personally, and no one in the camp would be safe from that fury.

So no, attacking wasn't an option. Not unless they wanted to turn this place into a crater.

Captain Grant wiped some excrement from his shoulder with the defeated sigh of a man who now questioned every career choice.

"Venusaur, I need you," he muttered, releasing his Poké Ball.

With a flash of light, the massive flower-backed Pokémon appeared, immediately scrunching its nose at the smell.

"Yeah, I know," Grant muttered. "Just hit them with Sleep Powder before the whole camp turns into a zoo bathroom."

Venusaur nodded and released a shimmering cloud into the air. Slowly, the angry Ursaring began to slow, stumble, yawn—until one by one, they dropped like giant snoring logs all across the camp.

Finally, the sky stopped raining dung. The chaos slowed. Peace—foul-smelling, traumatic, and suspiciously squelchy—was restored.

And somewhere in the middle of the camp, Jake collapsed to his knees, covered in shame and filth.

"…Day one," he whispered.

****

David furrowed his brow when the system pinged in his ear again.

[Gained 200 negative emotion points from Grant…]

[Gained 100 negative emotion points from Ludmila…]

[Gained 100 negative emotion points from Sachin…]

"Huh?" he muttered. "Who the heck are these people?"

He glanced around, as if random strangers were about to pop out of the bushes yelling, "We hate you!"

"Do I have, like… secret fans?" David whispered, narrowing his eyes dramatically. "Or worse… secret haters? Has the legend of the Bloody Dark King of the Pacific finally spread across the land?"

He crossed his arms and smirked at the thought. What if people had started whispering his name in fear? What if mothers were now scaring their kids at bedtime with stories like, "If you don't clean your room, the Dark King will feed you to a Snorlax!"

Just as he was about to convince himself he was famous, David turned his gaze toward the distant camp entrance. Smoke and dust were still drifting in the air from the earlier chaos, and he felt a twinge of doubt.

"…Wait. Are the Ursarings still rampaging?"

His brain offered a few unwanted scenarios: the bears bursting through tents, wrestling Rhyperior, or, worse, flinging poop grenades like they'd gone full commando.

But then he shook his head, waving the mental images away.

"No, no. They've got the garrison there. Real professionals. A bunch of big angry teddy bears wouldn't stand a chance."

Satisfied, David flopped back into his reclining camp chair like he was on vacation. The cool night breeze rustled through the trees, and moonlight sparkled across the lake like glitter spilled by a careless Jigglypuff.

Ding!

Ding!

More system notifications chimed in his ear—sweet music to a chaos gremlin's soul.

Just then, Ling Qi returned from setting up camp, walking toward David with a tired look, followed by Tom and Luna.

"Miss Luna, Tom," Ling Qi said, rubbing his back. "Your Pokémon have been leveling up faster than I expected. Give it a few more days of proper combat training, and they might actually evolve."

Tom's eyes lit up like someone had just told him the cafeteria was giving out free cake.

"No way!" he gasped, scooping up Charmander like a proud dad who'd just watched his toddler say 'fireball.' "Did you hear that, buddy? You're gonna become a dragon!"

Charmander blinked slowly and puffed a tiny flame in response, clearly confused but trying his best to look fierce.

Luna crouched beside her Squirtle, who stood proudly with his tiny arms folded. She nodded with satisfaction.

"I've been pushing him harder during training," she said. "He's adapting quickly."

David, still sprawled like a starfish in his chair, glanced over at the two Pokémon and scratched his chin.

"Man… and here I was thinking of using mine as hot water bottles."

"David!" Luna scolded, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"What?" he shrugged. "Ralts is basically a space heater with legs."

Despite himself, David was impressed. While he had been… let's say, 'managing chaos' from the sidelines, Tom and Luna had actually been grinding. Their Pokémon looked sharper, faster, and noticeably stronger.

It made sense, though. The Mystery Zone was overflowing with energy—something wild Pokémon thrived on. Unlike the Pokémon in cities back home, where concrete jungles offered no natural power boosts and berries cost as much as rent, this place was like a protein shake buffet for any creature with claws and a Pokedex entry.

"This place is insane," David muttered, watching Squirtle do tiny pushups on a rock while Charmander kept trying to punch a tree that clearly wasn't flinching. "No wonder wild Pokémon out here are built like tanks."

Luna nodded. "That's the difference. Back home, Pokémon grow up with no secret energy, no mystery fruit, no glowing rocks—just tap water and emotional damage."

Tom tilted his head. "You think they get therapy in the city?"

"Only if their trainer's rich," Luna replied.

David let out a long, satisfied sigh, sinking deeper into his chair. His hair rustled in the breeze, and his Ralts curled up next to him like a living electric blanket.

The lake sparkled. The moon beamed.

And the foul, lingering stench from the Ursaring incident finally began to fade into the background—just enough for David to enjoy the peace.

Or, at least, enjoy it until the next disaster he definitely wasn't going to cause.

Probably.