Rows of gravestones stood solemnly around the elevated platforms of the tower. It felt like walking into a sacred temple surrounded by endless statues of gods—only now, the prayers and offerings had stopped. Where once this place was filled with visitors lighting incense and chanting, now it was silent. Since the disappearances began, no one had dared come. The air was eerie, unsettling.

For an ordinary girl, such silence and gloom might've brought tears and trembling—but Sabrina was no ordinary girl. Arms crossed, completely composed, she stepped into the tower, her sharp, icy eyes sweeping across the shadows as though hunting for secrets.

Logan followed closely behind. A soft purple fog curled through the tower like smoke. Carefully, Logan pulled a vial from his belt pouch. He sniffed the mist, then returned the vial with a quiet remark:

"...No poison. Looks more like some kind of optical substance."

Sabrina answered flatly, "It's Gastly mist. Gastly creates fog by absorbing toxic gases and then wrapping itself in them for both defense and attack."

Compared to Logan—who had only been in this world for about six months—Sabrina understood Pokémon far more deeply. One glance at the gas, and she had identified it immediately.

"Normally, Gastly's gas is poisonous. It can knock out a human or even a large Pokémon in under two seconds, feeding on their energy afterward."

Her brows furrowed slightly. She looked around the empty, dim tower with suspicion.

"...But there's no poison in this fog. And the scale of it—it's too massive. It covers the entire tower."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "That Gastly must be one of Agatha's main battlers. If it's strong enough to enshroud the whole tower in its fog, that's no surprise. Sounds like her style—silent, traceless, turning your own fears against you."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't be shocked if that Gastly has some unique ability. Probably the reason she never evolved it. She must've preserved it specifically for that power."

As they climbed to the second floor, Logan and Sabrina knew that even though the Elite Four were formidable, there was no way they were going to back down. Especially now that Agatha had revealed herself—the danger was actually lower. Koga was probably only trapped because he got caught off-guard.

"Wait—there's someone in the mist!"

Logan's eyes sharpened. Through the dense fog, he spotted a shambling human silhouette staggering forward. The figure swayed like they could collapse at any moment.

"Gabite!"

"Alakazam!"

Logan and Sabrina simultaneously released their Pokémon. Gabite and Alakazam locked eyes, their expressions tense. They hadn't expected that former rivals would now be fighting side by side.

But that wasn't the end of it. More and more human-shaped figures emerged from the thick mist—alongside Pokémon. Every one of them walked with the same lifeless, unsteady gait.

The shadows closed in from all directions. Logan and Sabrina were completely surrounded. And finally, they could see their faces.

"These people—and their Pokémon—are under mind control," Sabrina muttered.

She had instantly recognized their glassy, empty eyes and the unnatural way they moved.

"Alakazam, Psywave Illusion!"

Her voice was steady. Alakazam's eyes glowed with ghostly purple light. Psychic ripples pulsed from its hands, generating a telekinetic storm. It wasn't strong enough to create full-blown psychic tornadoes like Mewtwo, but as the ace of the Saffron Gym, Alakazam could still wield this move with power.

The Psywave didn't target the people or Pokémon—it targeted the fog.

In an instant, the entire area was cleared. The purple mist burst away like smoke in the wind.

Logan tensed, watching closely. But to his surprise, even with the fog gone, the people didn't regain consciousness.

"It's no use," he growled. "They've inhaled too much of it. Even if we disperse the fog, they won't come back."

As he spoke, the mist began to creep back in again, flooding the room once more.

Sabrina didn't speak. Her expression was like ice. She silently tossed another Poké Ball forward.

"Venomoth. Sleep Powder."

This was a Pokémon Logan hadn't seen her use before—not in their previous fight. Just as he suspected, Sabrina didn't rely on just Psychic types—she had a solid command over Poison types as well.

The glowing purple Venomoth took flight, scattering clouds of glimmering powder over the heads of the shambling people and Pokémon.

But it was useless. Visually impressive—completely ineffective.

Seeing that Sleep Powder had no effect, Sabrina immediately recalled Venomoth. She wasn't the kind of trainer to throw out all her Pokémon in a panic. A skilled trainer knew when to hold back, when to adapt. Keeping reserves at hand for different combat situations—that's what made a professional.

"Sleep Powder's useless. So is dispersing the fog," Logan muttered. "Which means this stuff doesn't just control their minds—it's controlling their bodies too. They're like zombies…"

He paused. "And Sabrina, some of them… some of them aren't even alive."

In the ghost tower, surrounded by the shambling dead—Logan felt the chill creep down his spine. It was like a scene straight from a horror movie.

"Look at the state of their bodies. They haven't been dead long. These are the missing trainers from Lavender Town."

Sabrina's gaze remained locked on the crowd. She didn't flinch. She wasn't afraid. But being surrounded by the dead and dying wasn't pleasant—not even for her.

"They're all skin and bone," she noted. "And if I'm right, they didn't die in battle. They were starved—kept under mind control, unable to eat, unable to rest. They were drained to death."

Logan exhaled deeply. Just imagining that kind of death made his stomach twist. Still, at least they hadn't felt the pain—not really. Their minds and bodies had been hijacked. In a way, that was merciful.

That's what being a Pokémon Trainer meant. You never knew when you'd face death.

Some might mourn them—but no one would call it unjust. From the moment you choose this path, you've already signed your life away.

"I could have Alakazam try to restore their minds," Sabrina offered.

"And burn out its stamina before we even reach the real battle?" Logan replied. "We're not saints. We're here to find two people. These guys ended up like this because they were too weak."

He turned. "Let's go, Sabrina. They'll either survive—or they won't. We've got bigger problems waiting at the top of the tower."

"Gabite, Dragon Pulse!"

A fierce dragon roar erupted from Gabite. The blast of energy surged outward, sweeping aside the encroaching zombies in every direction.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Bodies flew through the air, slamming into gravestones and walls. Whether some of them were still alive or not didn't matter to Logan.

Sabrina smirked. She approved of his ruthlessness.

They weren't heroes. They wouldn't sacrifice themselves for strangers.

Logan respected those kinds of people—the kind who'd risk everything for others—but he'd never be one of them. His loyalty was to himself and the few bonds he held sacred.

Yes, Trainers had emotions. They cared. But only for those they knew—for the Pokémon and people they'd chosen. Strangers? Not worth dying for.

That's why Logan couldn't believe how different Red had been from the version in his memories. Back when they'd fought Lt. Surge, both he and Red had been ready to kill, even if it meant setting off a bomb.

"Look out!"

They'd barely reached the fourth floor when Logan shouted.

A ball of flame erupted from the fog—followed by a throwing star, flashing with deadly precision.

It flew straight toward them.

The person they were hunting wasn't waiting at the top of the tower.

They were right here—on the fourth floor, waiting to kill.

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