In the real world, Sabrina could no longer control her psychic energy.
She plummeted from midair, collapsing into the pond created earlier by Gyarados. Water soaked her from the waist down, her breath ragged, her skin glistening with sweat—both from exertion and something far more unsettling.
Was it just the water?
Beside her, Alakazam's eyes flickered with panic. It didn't understand what had happened.
The mental world Sabrina had constructed should have been impossible for a human psychic to sustain alone. She had used Alakazam as an amplifier—its power fueling the illusion while she fine-tuned the details.
The fact that she could synchronize with her Pokémon to such an extent, crafting a world of pure thought, proved why she was Kanto's most feared psychic.
And why Alakazam was her strongest partner.
A Perfect Trap—Until It Wasn't
Sabrina had prepared meticulously.
She had anticipated Logan and Misty's arrival, studied Logan's battle records, even requisitioned intel from Team Rocket.
She knew about Mewtwo's genetic fusion side effects.
She knew Logan wouldn't rely on Mewtwo immediately—that he'd fight conventionally first, to grow stronger.
She admired that discipline.
But it also made him predictable.
Her other Pokémon had been positioned in advance—Gyarados to bait Misty, teleporting the Gym Leader away to eliminate interference. The rest were set to block Mewtwo's Teleport, ensuring Logan couldn't flee.
Then, exploiting his ignorance of her abilities, she had dragged him into her mental realm.
But she underestimated Mewtwo.
Even with four of her strongest Pokémon intercepting, Mewtwo had breached their defenses in seconds, relaying commands to Logan's Dratini—whose Thunder Wave disrupted the psychic link, unraveling her illusion.
If only she had sent Mr. Mime as well—five Pokémon might have held Mewtwo back.
If only she hadn't hidden behind the fragile psyche of her childhood self.
But as Logan had said: There are no second chances in battle.
Logan emerged from the mental world, his earlier fury smoothed into cold calm.
"Impressive, Sabrina. I never imagined psychic power could be wielded like that."
"And in other ways too… you were very impressive."
He was the only one alive who truly knew her now—her childhood loneliness, her fears, the scars of her past.
Every curve, every shudder, every sound she made—
Even her younger self hadn't been spared.
(Not that it mattered. No laws applied in the mind.)
Sabrina said nothing.
But her clenched fists betrayed her.
"I had fun today," Logan mused,Dratini coiling around his neck as he leaped onto Gabite's shoulder. "Shame we can't play again. But don't worry—I'll leave you to reminisce."
Gabite roared, lunging onto a ledge and vanishing into the tunnels.
"You think you can run?!"
Sabrina's scream shattered her usual ice.
She was still a woman.
And no woman could endure what he'd done to her in that mental hell—tendrils, torment, even cartoonish violations—and stay sane.
"Alakazam. Find him."
Logan knew fleeing was futile.
But he also knew Sabrina was compromised—her judgment clouded by rage, chasing him with only two Pokémon instead of recalling her full team.
When Gabite slammed into an invisible barrier—Mr. Mime's psychic wall—Logan sighed.
"So 'confinement' is your specialty, huh? Mental cages with Alakazam, physical ones with Mr. Mime… you really like making people suffocate, don't you?"
Sabrina hovered above him, frost in her gaze but fire beneath.
"Underestimating a Gym Leader is suicide. Misty was weak. I am not."
Logan chuckled, spinning six Poké Balls around him like a macabre circus act.
"Then let's play another game, Sabrina. A psychic magic game."
Sandstorm erupted around him, swallowing Gabite and himself in a swirling veil.
Sabrina didn't flinch.
"Psychics don't need eyes to hunt."
Alakazam raised a spoon—bending reality itself—as Sabrina seized it.
"Fate's Spoon always points to victory."
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