As Logan stood there, torn between emotions, a firm, powerful hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up to find Professor Oak staring back at him with a serious expression and a solemn tone.
"Logan, don't let this weigh on you. These are trials every true trainer must face. Battles between Pokémon are never simple—for the Pokémon or the trainers. Real combat isn't a harmless sport without consequences. It's incredibly dangerous. One misstep, and lives could be lost. That's precisely why, in any region, the number of true Pokémon trainers is always small."
There was a wistful note in Professor Oak's voice, like he was remembering something from his own past. His grip on Logan's shoulder tightened ever so slightly.
"...But Logan, you must remember this—never lose yourself in the power your Pokémon give you. If you fall into the trap of abusing that power, you'll bring misfortune upon yourself."
Logan met Professor Oak's gaze. Within those eyes, he saw not a fictional figure from anime, not a collection of stats from a game, but a real person—a man who had lived, felt, dreamed. He had emotions, ideals, and a deep wisdom born of years of experience.
Kind-hearted yet not naïve. A lover of Pokémon, but not blinded by it. Someone who mourned loss, whether Pokémon or human, but didn't resent the natural law of survival of the fittest. He radiated calm, wisdom, and a sense of safety from within.
A remarkably charismatic old man.
Logan pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. "...I understand, Professor Oak."
Logan wasn't just some clueless fifteen-year-old kid. He had worked before, seen the complexities of human society. He knew full well how dangerous it was to be intoxicated by newfound power—to believe oneself invincible and act without restraint. That kind of arrogance only ended in one way: the entire world turning against you.
Of course, the freedom to do as one pleased wasn't inherently wrong. But Logan knew he wasn't at that level yet. Only when he had truly become strong—so strong that even standing alone against the world didn't scare him—could he think about such things.
Professor Oak gave him a reassuring pat and said no more. He could already see the intelligence, caution, and eagerness to grow in the young man he hadn't known for long. And most importantly, the hunger for battle glowing in Logan's eyes—an essential quality of an exceptional trainer.
By now, the remaining Rocket grunts had all fled. The so-called "safe room" had truly become safe again. It was then that Blaine stepped forward.
"...Let's get out of here while we still can. The Rockets seem to be regrouping. If we let them stall us here and their reinforcements arrive, we'll be in real trouble. Mewtwo can't keep fighting forever—it'll place immense strain on your body, Logan!"
"Blaine, you and Professor Oak go on ahead. I'll catch up soon."
Logan stepped forward and walked over to Mewtwo, placing a gentle hand on its body. Its skin was impossibly smooth, softer than even a young girl's, without the slightest roughness a human body might have.
"Logan, you…"
Blaine started to protest, but Oak interrupted him.
"...Let him go, Blaine. Besides, this twisted research facility shouldn't exist. Too many Pokémon and people have suffered and died here."
"If you say so, Oak… But Logan, remember this—you only have twelve minutes. If you exceed that, Mewtwo's cellular activity will spike dramatically. It will completely overwhelm your body!"
"Twelve minutes, huh? That's more than enough! Mewtwo, let's go!"
Logan patted Mewtwo's side. It nodded silently, its eyes glowing once again with a faint purple light. In the next moment, both its body and Logan's began to levitate, wrapped in a protective field of psychic energy. With speed rivaling Rapidash in full sprint, they soared into the inner depths of the research facility.
Flying through the air was a strange sensation—like he had sprouted wings of his own. Neither he nor Mewtwo touched the ground as they scanned for any remaining targets.
Before long, they found a lone Rocket grunt trying to flee.
"Disable!" Logan commanded.
Faced with such overwhelming power, the grunt and his Pokémon had no chance. His body froze mid-run, as if filled with lead. His face twisted in panic, eyes screaming for mercy. Though he strained with everything he had, he couldn't move a muscle—only his awareness remained free.
Floating to eye level with him, Logan stared coldly before giving his next order.
"...Hypnosis, Mewtwo."
Mewtwo obeyed without hesitation. Its eyes locked onto the grunt's, and the man's expression slowly went vacant. Even his mind now slipped under Mewtwo's control.
"What exactly are your psychic abilities capable of? Memory erasure? Hallucination? Personality rewrites? Thought reading? Cognitive distortion?"
Logan had never believed Psychic-types were limited to flashy energy attacks. Powers like these... they were terrifying.
[Everything except personality rewriting is relatively easy. And if I maintain continuous psychic output, I can fully control every action of a human or Pokémon.]
Logan raised an eyebrow. "...Can other Psychic Pokémon do this too?"
It was unsettling. If all Psychic-types could do this, how had humanity survived at all? But then again, 'mind control' and 'manipulation' had always been part of what made Psychic-types special.
[I haven't encountered many Psychic-types, so I don't know. But none of the ones in this lab come close to my level. Unless a human is completely unprotected by a Pokémon, weaker Psychics can't control them.]
"Protected… by their Pokémon? Like through battle techniques?"
Logan turned away from the subdued grunt and instructed Mewtwo to wipe his mind. Together, they drifted off into the halls once more.
Mewtwo tilted its head slightly, clearly curious why Logan didn't know something so basic.
"Uh, well… I'm not exactly a real trainer yet. My understanding of Pokémon is super limited—just started reading two or three days ago."
He felt like a complete beginner. Embarrassing, really.
[Apologizing? Is that a typical human expression? Intriguing.]
Amusement tinged Mewtwo's mental voice, with no hint of ridicule. It simply explained:
[Every Pokémon has a kind of energy field around it. When humans are close to their Pokémon, they're enveloped in this field too. It greatly reduces the effects of hostile abilities. Unless the difference in power is extreme, it offers significant protection.]
"Ah, so that's why the books say trainers should stay close to their Pokémon during battles. I thought it was just to issue commands more easily, like—'Why not just use a headset or something?' But now it makes sense. Being near your Pokémon is the safest place to be."
Logan was silently grateful that Mewtwo wasn't the type to mock. If it had laughed at him, he would've had no choice but to pretend not to hear, face red with shame.
[I don't understand it logically. I just… feel the energy fields.]
"Got it. We can discuss the theory later. For now, let's prep this place and get out. Most of the Rockets have already bolted, but we can't risk Professor Oak or Blaine running into a regrouped squad. And we're running out of time."
Mewtwo used its psychic sense to scan the facility. As expected, only a few stragglers remained. Logan gave a nod.
[Understood. Let's begin.]
"Right. What was that phrase again...? The bond between us tells me—we're tied together now. So, Mewtwo, from here on out… I'm counting on you."
[Counting on me?]
Mewtwo seemed puzzled at first. But through their mental link, it began to grasp the sentiment behind the words. Its lips curled up in what could only be described as a smile, and its voice, airy and light, was filled with a rare joy.
[Then I, too, will count on you… Logan.]
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