Though he was feeling a bit downhearted, Brock still wore a bright smile as he and Logan stood at the center of the battlefield, bowing to the crowd in all directions. The two shook hands, and at the same time, Brock handed over a light gray, octagonal badge. Its design and color were just like Pewter City itself—simple and rustic, not flashy or overly decorated. It mirrored the city's people: strong and steadfast like the rocks they called home.
"Thanks, Brock… The people here are really passionate. I like it," Logan said sincerely.
Brock laughed awkwardly, grumbling inwardly, Of course you'd like it after that kind of victory roar.
As he listened to the piercing screams of the young women in the crowd, a slight bitterness crept in. I've hosted so many gym challenges here, and not once have cute girls screamed like that for me. Why don't any of them want to have my babies!?
Damn this shallow, looks-obsessed world!
Logan inspected the badge curiously, running his fingers over it. Seeing this, Brock offered an explanation:
"...The original badges weren't actually made in this era. They were passed down from ancient times—possibly even from a lost civilization. The real ones are what prove someone is a Gym Leader. When someone inherits a gym, they inherit the original badge too. The ones we hand out to Trainers, though, are replicas made from special metals crafted by the League. Normal folks can't forge them."
"I see... I thought these badges could power up Pokémon or something," Logan said with a trace of disappointment.
"Haha, well, the original ones might have some special properties. But even now, the League hasn't figured out exactly what they do. As for boosting a Pokémon's power, training hard is enough. There's no shortcut to strength. If you chase after those, you'll never have a real future." Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒·𝗇𝗲𝘁
Brock wasn't a genius. He'd gotten to where he was through sheer effort. So when he saw someone like Logan—already training in the wild right after setting out on his journey—he genuinely admired it. Placing a firm hand on Logan's shoulder, he spoke with heartfelt advice, afraid the boy might stray into dangerous paths.
"You don't need to tell me that," Logan replied coolly.
Brock was left a little speechless, smiling sheepishly. How should I put this guy… sometimes polite to a fault, and sometimes he doesn't give you an inch of face.
"Well, I've still got seven more matches to oversee. Logan, you can either stay in the challengers' area to watch or go rest if you're tired. You're heading to Cerulean City next, right?"
"Yeah. I'll rest here for two days, then head east. Planning to train a bit in Mt. Moon before I reach Cerulean."
Logan exchanged a few more words with Brock, and as the host announced the next challenger's entrance, he finally exited the field.
Logan genuinely liked Brock—a Gym Leader with a good personality and no ill will. Even though Logan had embarrassed him, Brock didn't seem to mind. That alone was enough to tell Logan he was someone worth befriending.
He returned to his seat in the challengers' area and attentively watched the rest of the matches. Without Logan's overwhelming performance, things returned to a more ordinary rhythm. The early matches were dull, but the final two bouts ramped up to full 3-on-3 battles. Brock brought out his main team. Though the challengers lost, the quality of the battles—both in entertainment and learning value—had Logan watching with full focus.
While Logan was dazzling millions of viewers on live TV with his record-breaking victory at the Pewter Gym, reactions began rippling out from all over.
In a suburban home near Viridian City, a little girl had been waiting in front of her television for a long time. When she saw Logan break a regional record with ease, she squealed with joy, hugging her plushie tightly.
"Big brother is so amazing~!"
Then her mood dropped again. She was still a few years shy of the legal age to become a Pokémon Trainer. Even when the time came, she wasn't confident she could ever be good at it. She didn't think she had the talent.
In the heart of Pewter City, a handsome and aloof boy stood watching as every store on the street broadcasted the Gym Challenge. He raised an eyebrow and muttered to himself:
"…Weren't you supposed to visit Viridian first before coming here? So you got ahead of me. Now if I want to challenge the Gym, I have to wait another week."
Near the border of Viridian Forest and Pewter City, a muddy boy wearing a cap looked at the livestream on his Pokédex and beamed. He turned to the Electric Mouse Pokémon beside him and said:
"…Hey, Pikachu! Look—it's Logan! He said back then he wanted to become a Trainer too. I can't believe he's already ahead of me…"
"…Wait, oh no—don't shock me again—AAAAHHHH!"
The sassy little Electric Mouse turned its head away, unimpressed. It discharged a tiny jolt—not Thunderbolt, not even a proper Shock. Just a little zap—enough to tingle without any pain or lasting effects.
High above Mt. Moon, near the border of Cerulean City, a stunning girl floated in a balloon powered by her Jigglypuff. She closed her tablet and her dazzling eyes gleamed.
"Eh? Isn't that the handsome boy I saw at the lab?"
In Saffron City, inside a hidden Rocket HQ, a stern middle-aged man rested his chin on clasped hands. His expression was calm and imposing, like the bedrock beneath the earth.
"…So he's chosen to become a Trainer. That means we can't delay any longer. I'll go handle this personally. If Mewtwo ends up in the hands of a skilled Trainer, we may face consequences we're not prepared for."
He stood up, pulled on a coat, and strode out of the dark chamber.
"Logan? Hahahaha! How fascinating—truly fascinating!"
On the distant sea, a dragon spread its massive wings, casting a vast shadow across the sky. A man mounted on its back vanished into the horizon, leaving only a streak of darkness behind.
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