Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

Gym Leaders held an extremely high status in society, and most Trainers treated them with immense respect. However, Logan, being a transmigrator from another world, scoffed at such reverence. So he casually asked, "...Is the match about to start already? You, the Gym Leader, personally came to invite me?"

Brock clearly hadn't expected Logan to have such a blunt personality. His words carried a hint of sarcasm. Rather than being friendly, it felt like he just didn't care about anything. Brock was momentarily stunned, then chuckled and explained, "...Each time there's a challenge match, as the Gym Leader, I have to offer a few words of encouragement to the contestants. Since you're the first to go on, I figured I'd stop by and escort you to the battle arena."

He extended his hand. "Brock of Pewter City. Pleasure to meet you."

Logan shook his hand and responded politely, "Logan of Pallet Town in Viridian Province. This is my first Gym Challenge. Please take care of me."

Brock's hand was rough, covered in calluses. Logan knew full well that reality was different from the animated series. So before coming to challenge the Gym, he had done some research on Brock. Brock was someone who had changed his life entirely through hard work. Raised in a poor family, he'd taken up countless odd jobs from a young age to earn money and support his family. Through sheer perseverance—and that signature grit of Pewter City citizens—he became a Trainer, and after several years of grinding effort, he defeated the previous Pewter Gym Leader and took over the position himself. Now, his family lived a life of relative comfort.

It was inspiring—and exactly the kind of story the Pokémon League liked to promote as their ideal values. Rumor even had it that a movie director wanted to adapt Brock's life into a film.

"I've heard Misty mention you before. Didn't expect you'd be the first one to challenge my Gym."

Brock was a composed young man, and as he and Logan walked toward the stadium, they chatted along the way.

"You two close?"

"Well, our cities are neighbors. As Gym Leaders, we're not exactly best friends, but we get along pretty well."

"I see… By the way, I heard the Gym Challenge comes with a million-yen prize if I win, right?"

"Yeah, that's according to League regulations."

Logan's abrupt focus on money made Brock glance at him with a look of approval. Apparently, this man had also known poverty—he was clearly sensitive about money.

"So let's do the math. Eight challengers per week, four weeks a month... that's thirty-two million yen monthly. In a year, that's not just rounding to a hundred million—it's several hundred million. Do the prize monies from failed challengers go to the Gym Leaders?"

"Ahem—"

Brock suddenly coughed, caught off-guard by Logan's sharp tongue and brutal logic. His dark face flushed slightly, but he still tried to maintain a serious tone. "...You have to understand, maintaining the Gym costs money. Plus, I have a lot of younger siblings to support—their food, clothes, school… it's all expensive."

Logan gave him a disdainful look. Just admit you're embezzling already. Making up excuses? I didn't expect you—bushy eyebrows and all—to be a sellout too!

But being a Gym Leader really did seem to rake in the cash. The world's administrative structure was already loose. The League didn't micromanage city Gyms, so fudging a few numbers in the books seemed to allow for quite a bit of skimming...

As Logan was daydreaming about starting his own Gym to make a fortune, a massive cheer suddenly erupted.

The roar was like thunder, shaking Logan's very soul. It felt like crashing waves slamming into his ears. Only then did he realize that he had unknowingly followed Brock all the way to the center of the battle arena.

They stood on a rising platform that had just elevated them into the center of the stadium. As they appeared, the crowd erupted into even louder cheers. The stands, built in terraced layers, stretched up in all directions. Eight enormous screens hung from the stadium's high ceiling, and thousands of blinding lights made the massive space brighter than daylight. Overhead, the rumble of helicopters echoed—their cameras broadcasting the scene across all of Kanto and possibly even the world.

Colorful confetti filled the air, turning the arena into a sea of joy. The audience stood up, roaring with excitement. A live band played a rousing march, and fan groups wearing coordinated headbands waved flags and beat massive drums in sync with their chants.

"Ladies and gentlemen, audience members at the venue and viewers at home—welcome to our weekly Friday special: the Pewter Gym Challenge Tournament! I'm your host, A-Ye!"

The host stood on the podium, waving his mic wildly and hyping up the atmosphere.

"Our first match contestants have entered the arena! I'm sure one of them needs no introduction—he's the pride of Pewter City, our Gym Leader, Brock!"

"BROCK—BROCK—BROCK—!"

The synchronized chants of thousands of people sent chills down Logan's spine. Before he transmigrated, he had just been an average guy—maybe the most attention he ever got was while presenting a slideshow to a small audience. But standing in the center of this roaring coliseum, facing adoration usually reserved for top-tier celebrities, was a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Brock was clearly used to it. He waved to the crowd from all sides, triggering even louder cheers.

"And today's first challenger is the rookie Trainer from Pallet Town in Viridian—Logan!"

"BOOOOOO!!"

"HISSSSSS—!!"

There were no cheers, only boos. Logan's teeth clenched slightly. Being booed by tens of thousands of people—it was an experience that needed nerves of steel. In that moment, he finally understood how football players felt when they stepped into a hostile stadium.

"This arena seats exactly 75,400 people. Every Gym Challenge event is always sold out."

"Don't take it personally," Brock said, patting Logan on the shoulder. "This is Pewter City. The crowd here boos all challengers—it's nothing against you. You'll see the same in every other city too. Many rookie Trainers can't perform under the pressure. I hope you can rise above it."

Brock stepped into the center of the field, standing over a long white line that marked the boundary. In the middle was a Poké Ball-shaped circle—where the official pre-battle ceremony would take place.

"Both contestants have stepped onto the field and are now performing the League's highest formal battle ritual. Let me explain for our viewers: as per standard rules, this match is a 1-on-1. The battle ends when one Pokémon loses its ability to fight. No attacks are allowed after that. And striking the Trainer is strictly prohibited!"

Even though it was basic knowledge, the announcer had to read it every time—it was a standard procedure of League matches.

Logan and Brock stood face to face, each holding a Poké Ball in their palm. Their right arms crossed over each other, forming a barrier with the back of their hands turned to each other's face—preventing either from seeing which Pokémon the other would send out. In multi-battles, this secrecy could determine victory or defeat.

This ritual was the highest combat courtesy in the Pokémon League—only seen during official Gym and League matches.

Logan had studied these customs thoroughly beforehand.

Once the ritual was complete, the two Trainers turned around like Western gunslingers, each walking toward their side of the rectangular battlefield. Once in the safe zone, they stepped onto their respective command platforms and picked up headsets to issue commands.

The crowd was too loud—without mics, the Pokémon wouldn't hear anything. Plus, broadcasting commands openly made the match fairer and more engaging for spectators.

"I'll go first!" Brock shouted, tossing out his Poké Ball.

A massive Onix appeared in the arena.

"Brock has chosen Onix—no surprise given his rock-specialist reputation! While this isn't his main Onix, even a freshly caught Pokémon trained by an expert like Brock can exceed your wildest expectations!"

Logan didn't keep the host waiting either. He threw out his Poké Ball. "Go, Gible—today's your moment to shine before the world!"

With a burst of smoke, a small Gible—barely a meter tall—appeared. Compared to the towering Onix, it looked downright puny. But seasoned spectators knew better than to judge by size—some of the fiercest Pokémon came in small packages.

The crowd buzzed. Most people didn't even recognize Gible. They whispered among themselves, trying to figure out what it was.

The host furiously tapped away at a tablet, then shouted into his mic, "Found it! Logan has sent out a rarely-seen Pokémon—this isn't native to the Kanto Region. It's a Gible, from the Sinnoh Region! According to records, this is an extremely rare Dragon and Ground-type Pokémon—essentially Sinnoh's counterpart to Dratini! It was once thought extinct a hundred years ago!"

"WHOOOOAAA!!"

The arena exploded. Thousands stood up, craning their necks to get a glimpse. Everyone loved a rare Pokémon—even more so one they'd never seen in person. Gible was rare even in Sinnoh. In Kanto, it was practically a legend.

Cameras zoomed in. The press was practically salivating. Overhead helicopters honed in, broadcasting Gible's every detail across the globe.

But Gible didn't mind. In fact, it seemed to thrive under the attention. It raised its head and let out a feral roar, eyes burning with battle lust.

"Hah, like it was born to stand in the spotlight," Brock chuckled, shaking his head.

"According to data," the host added excitedly, "Logan broke the Pewter Gym's prelim record—he beat all his opponents in under ten seconds on average, without ever using a second move! Will he surprise us again today?"

The host knew exactly how to stoke the crowd. He was excited too—this kind of phenomenon was a once-in-a-career moment.

"Hah, Gible—you're finally famous. All that wandering before and nobody knew who you were… it was frustrating."

Logan laughed softly, covering his mic and whispering to Gible. He knew seventy-five thousand people were watching, and maybe millions more on TV. His blood boiled.

This was what it meant to be a man. Since he had been reborn in this world, he would become the brightest star—forever etched into its history!

As he threw the Poké Ball and sent out Gible, Logan instinctively wanted to move alongside it—but as his body leaned forward, he realized this was a regulated match, not a life-and-death survival battle.

Across the field, Brock seemed to notice the movement. He spoke into the mic, "Logan, relax. You're probably used to wild field battles, right? Here, you don't need to think about Trainer safety. This is a competition—enjoy the thrill of Pokémon combat."

The crowd interpreted it as an elder giving advice to a junior. But Logan didn't appreciate the sentiment. He knew Brock meant no harm—but he didn't like being lectured. His pride bristled.

"Hah, whatever. At least you used Onix and not some kind of Spiral Blade Pokémon…"

He muttered under his breath, then shouted:

"Let's go first—Gible, evolve!!"

Everyone froze.

What kind of command was that?

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T/N:

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