Blaine stood upon the scorched, lava-covered land, raising his sunglasses slightly as he watched a colossal sonic boom ripple across the sky. Without another word, he turned back to his lab, preparing for the inevitable—his final confrontation with Team Rocket.

Far above, six kilometers above the clouds, the mighty Garchomp tucked in its scythe-like wings. Its body, forged by nature itself, resembled a high-speed fighter jet. Every part of it followed the most perfect aerodynamic laws as it surged forward—breaking through the sound barrier with ease.

Standing on Garchomp's back, Logan had his hands buried casually in his pockets. Human records state that a powerful Garchomp could fly at Mach 1, roughly 1,200 km per hour—twice the speed of an average passenger jet. But such speed was almost unheard of, attainable only through the hands of a truly exceptional Trainer.

Logan's Garchomp, however, was far beyond that limit. It wasn't just breaking the sound barrier—it was tearing it apart, producing thunderous shockwaves that left trails of sonic clouds across the sky.

The winds generated by its flight were enough to shred a man apart. Yet when those same raging winds approached Garchomp's body, they gentled into nothing more than a soft breeze. That was the power of Pokémon—their very presence bent the laws of nature. And those who could command them… in the eyes of ordinary people, they were less human and more monsters.

Logan's short hair fluttered as he stood on the dragon's back, his eyes scanning the endless sky as though it belonged to him alone. At such altitude, with no reference points in sight, even supersonic speed felt like drifting stillness.

At his side, Green sat on the dragon's back, her long, pale legs extended gracefully. The rushing winds tossed her light-brown hair across her delicate face, yet she seemed unbothered—almost radiant.

"At this speed," Green sighed softly, "we'll reach Pallet Town in less than an hour…"

She hated birds. The very thought of flying-types terrified her, which was why none of her Pokémon could take to the skies. Normally, she had to rely on Jigglypuff's balloon-like ability to float across distances, but compared to this—compared to Garchomp's supersonic flight—that was like crawling on the ground.

Thankfully, her fear wasn't of flying itself—only of birds. And Garchomp was no bird. It was a dragon. Riding on a dragon's back brought her no discomfort, only awe. A fleeting thought struck her—maybe I should catch one of these fast-flying dragons too…

But the idea died almost immediately. Dragons like Garchomp and Dragonite were far too rare. She wasn't naïve enough to believe she'd find one so easily.

Sometimes she wondered just where Logan found these incredibly rare dragon Pokémon of his. Of course, she had no idea that most of his companions hadn't been caught—they'd been offered to him willingly, as though fate itself bent toward his journey. If she knew, she might just curse his outrageous luck.

The distance from Cinnabar Island to Pallet Town wasn't far. With a straight flight path—and at Garchomp's terrifying speed—even traveling across entire regions was hardly time-consuming anymore. For Logan, crossing from Kanto to Hoenn or Sinnoh would be nothing more than a short trip.

The only true problem with high-altitude flight was navigation. Luckily, technology in this world was advanced. A Pokédex could double as a GPS system. Logan would occasionally check it, making sure of their course. When Pallet Town drew near, he commanded Garchomp to descend.

The dragon pierced the cloud cover. Suddenly, the breathtaking sight of the endless blue ocean meeting the lush green plains filled their vision. Even Green, usually so composed, couldn't help but stand and let out an awed, "Wow…"

Garchomp plummeted, leveling out just meters above the waves. Like an amphibious warplane, it skimmed across the ocean surface, slicing the waters apart in its wake. Then, with a powerful sweep of its wings, it soared upward, over cliffs and forests, until the familiar sight of Professor Oak's Laboratory came into view.

BOOM!

The dragon landed with force, the shockwave blasting across the field. Grass tore from the soil, trees bent low, and dust swirled into the air. For a moment, all was chaos—until silence returned.

And then a voice came, hoarse with anger and grief:

"You're back…"

It was Blue Oak. His voice cracked, heavy with sorrow he couldn't contain. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted, like he had just spent hours crying.

Logan leapt down with Green in his arms. He frowned as he studied Blue—something was wrong. Blue never lost control like this. He was always calm, steady, collected. But right now, he looked like a broken child.

Beside him stood his fully-evolved Charizard, and further off, Logan spotted Red. The boy looked lost, trying and failing to comfort Blue. The moment Red saw Logan, relief washed over him. He quickly gestured—pointing to Blue, then to the lab.

Logan's eyes narrowed. He extended his psychic sense toward the laboratory, scanning like a radar. The rooms weren't ransacked, but all the Poké Balls were gone. Worse—Professor Oak and Daisy Oak were missing.

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. This was Team Rocket's doing. Professor Oak was likely safe elsewhere… but Daisy had been taken.

"It's all your fault…"

Blue's voice was a growl. His fists shook as he glared at Logan.

"…Oh?" Logan arched a brow. Blue, normally composed, was consumed by fury—blinded by it.

"You and Red brought Team Rocket down on us! Pallet Town was the one place untouched by their darkness. My grandfather's life's work—the purest sanctuary in the world! And now it's gone—ruined! My sister has been taken as a hostage because of you!"

His roar shook the air.

"…My mom was taken too," Red muttered quietly. For once, their personalities seemed reversed—Blue blinded by rage, Red subdued.

"Calm down, Blue," Logan's voice was cold, sharp as steel. "Blame us if you want—we've fought Rocket time and again. But don't pretend you've been innocent. Your ten months of traveling have caused them no end of trouble. If anyone brought them here, it's you. I have no family in Pallet Town. Team Rocket can't touch me with their threats. But you? You're a weakness they can exploit."

Blue's face twisted even further. His fists clenched tight.

His gaze flicked to Green at Logan's side. "…Who is she?" he demanded, barely keeping control of his voice.

Logan answered flatly, "Professor Oak's Squirtle is in her hands."

The implication was clear. Blue's eyes widened in disbelief.

"…So it was you. You're the thief who stole my grandfather's Pokémon!"

Blue snapped. His grief and fury found a target, and he lunged at Green. His face was a mask of rage, and for once the cunning girl froze, caught off guard.

But before his hand could reach her, Logan's arm snapped out, gripping Blue's wrist like iron.

"Let go!" Blue shouted, struggling. "She's a thief! I'll drag her to the police myself!"

Green's heart pounded. She hadn't expected this. Since when had she trusted Logan so completely? Enough to let her guard down entirely around his acquaintances? She had forgotten one crucial fact—Blue wasn't just anyone. He was Professor Oak's grandson, the very man she had stolen from.

THUD!

Logan's knee slammed into Blue's stomach. Blue doubled over, choking.

"Bullying girls to vent your own pain," Logan said coldly, "is the mark of a weak man."

Blue gasped, clutching his stomach. Then, fueled by sheer fury, he swung a punch at Logan. One, two—each one surprisingly skilled, refined. Logan blinked. He's trained… Not a master, but his strikes carried discipline.

Logan sighed. He wasn't in the mood for a brawl. His left hand rose—and with it, invisible psychic force wrapped around Blue's throat.

Blue's eyes bulged as he was lifted into the air, clawing at his neck, gasping for air. His Charizard growled, stepping forward—but froze as Garchomp moved, its predatory eyes locking onto it. Compared to the dragon, Charizard was a child. It lowered its gaze, unwilling to fight.

Blue flailed helplessly, until Logan grew bored. He released the hold—only to pummel him with a brutal combo of left and right hooks, swelling his face and knocking sense back into him. Finally, Logan tossed him aside like a ragdoll.

Blue lay on the grass, silent. Not defeated—just breathing heavily, no longer lost to his rage.

Logan flexed his wrist and looked down at him.

"…Feel better now?"

Blue said nothing. But he wasn't screaming anymore.

Logan smirked. The ancients were right. Sometimes the quickest way to clear someone's head is a good punch to the face.

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T/N:

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