After a short nap in his hotel room at the Pokémon Center, Logan stepped out, feeling refreshed, and made his way to the main lobby on the first floor, ready to restore his Pokémon's strength.
No one truly knew who invented the healing machines in Pokémon Centers. Whether they were a relic of some prehistoric civilization or simply the product of genius innovation, their creator was undoubtedly a visionary. These machines, powered solely by electricity, could miraculously heal a Pokémon's injuries—no matter how severe. As long as a Pokémon wasn't killed on the spot, whether it lost a limb or suffered internal damage, it could be fully healed in minutes.
Humans, however, lacked such miraculous regenerative traits. A broken limb or a terminal illness could mean the end for them. This is why, for Pokémon trainers, one of the first lessons wasn't just how to battle—it was how to survive. Being a trainer was a job that came with real danger. It was a profession that gambled with life itself.
The Pokémon Center lobby was brightly lit and spacious. Comfortable sofas lined the walls, giving it more of a dessert café vibe than a hospital. Logan ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of cake, then settled into a corner to relax.
Just like a busy bank, the Center had plenty of healing stations, but even more trainers waiting in line. Only those with critically injured Pokémon were granted access to the fast lane.
Countless eyes from all directions turned toward Logan—some with admiration, others with envy, and a few with resentment.
It wasn't because Logan was some celebrity. The attention came from the fact that he had openly released his Dratini!
Even in its initial stage, Dratini was over two meters long. Its serpentine body curled up on the couch beside Logan, resting its cute little head on his shoulder and letting out an adorable "Mii~ Mii~" sound. Logan gently fed it special Pokémon snacks from time to time, each treat earning him a clearer, crisper purr of delight from the dragon—it sounded almost like a cat happily purring beside its master.
'Go ahead, look all you want. Be jealous, be envious. I've got a rare, adorable Dratini, and you don't. What are you gonna do about it—bite me?'
Logan's face remained calm, almost expressionless, but inside, he was basking in smug satisfaction.
Thanks to Lance, he already had some notoriety. Pretending to be humble at this point would feel fake. So instead, he embraced it—quietly flexing his wealth and power with a silent swagger.
"Returning home rich and unnoticed is like wearing silk robes at night," he thought. This wasn't arrogance—it was just human nature. After all, deep down, Logan was still just a twenty-something young man. He was at that age when attention, recognition, and a little flair still mattered. He hadn't reached the zen-like detachment of some old-timers just yet.
It was like gacha games: you spend real money or grind like hell to draw a rare card—what's the point if you don't show it off?
When he walked the streets with his Gible before, some people were curious. But in Kanto, Gible wasn't exactly well-known. Most folks didn't even recognize the Dragon-type treasure from Sinnoh. But a Dratini? That was a different story. In Kanto, Dratini was legendary—even regular civilians knew how rare and precious it was.
And now, Logan was showing it off.
No one actually came up to bite him, but someone did come to challenge him.
"You're Logan, right? Dare to accept my challenge?"
The speaker was a man slightly older than Logan. He raised an eyebrow with a confrontational glare, holding a Poké Ball in hand.
This wasn't the first challenger Logan had met. At least the others had been polite, asking things like, "Would you be willing to have a friendly battle?"—to which Logan always replied with a calm, respectful refusal. But this guy? He was looking for trouble. Logan didn't even bother to hide his disdain.
"I'm not interested in playing childish games with you," Logan sneered, not even looking him in the eye. "If you want a real challenge, go sign up for the Cerulean Gym's qualifier tournament. Maybe we'll meet there. Or, if you're man enough to choose a battle to the death, I'll agree to it right now. We won't bet fingers—we'll bet lives."
Having survived nearly three months of wild survival and multiple brushes with death, Logan's eyes carried a sharpness that made people tremble. He had killed—not just Pokémon, but humans too. The aura of his inherited Dragon Force coiled around him with violent intent. A faint purple glow shimmered in his eyes.
The man's entire body froze. A chill crawled up his spine like ice water down his back.
"You psycho!" he muttered and backed away quickly, not wanting to engage a lunatic who looked like he actually meant to kill him.
Not far away, another man—a more seasoned-looking trainer—watched the scene unfold. He raised a hand to Logan in a subtle gesture of respect. His expression was filled with recognition and approval.
Just from that gesture, Logan could tell the man was a veteran—one who had spent time honing skills in the wild. People like him saw pure battle trainers—the ones who only fought in structured matches—as kids playing games.
…
Some time later, a gentle-looking girl approached. She wasn't here to challenge Logan. She just found the Dratini too cute to resist. Gathering her courage, she asked if she could pet it. Logan, surprisingly generous, let her sit across from him and lightly stroke Dratini's smooth body—though the little dragon didn't seem too pleased about being touched.
Cute things always drew the attention of girls. That was universal.
There was an unspoken rule among trainers: never send all your Pokémon to the healing machine at once. Always keep at least one with you. Trainers had passed this lesson down for generations. It was a matter of survival instinct—never leave yourself unprotected.
After all, trainers were just fragile humans. The cities might look safe, but who could say when a Rocket Grunt or worse might appear? Better to be cautious than sorry.
Two hours passed. Logan spent most of it chatting pleasantly with the girl, their conversation easy and light. Finally, both Gabite and Dratini were fully healed.
Just as Logan considered whether to invite the girl to dinner, a sudden commotion erupted near the entrance of the Pokémon Center.
Logan turned his head in confusion—only to see a very familiar figure walking in through the doors.
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