Logan scribbled down his theories and experiences in his notebook. He figured that maybe one day, when he was strong enough to write his own book, he could get it published. He even had a name for it already—The Secrets of the Dragonkind, chronicling his journey and methods of growing stronger.
In this world, a Pokémon's flames were entirely made of energy, not real fire from nature. Once the energy ran out, the flames would fade away. That meant even starting fires in forests wasn't truly dangerous. Plus, the environment here was vastly different from his original world. Even if a forest fire accidentally broke out, it wouldn't be a disaster. Water-type Pokémon would instinctively appear to extinguish it, and once the flames died down, Ground- and Grass-type Pokémon would get to work restoring the ecosystem. Seeds would be planted, and in no time, towering trees would rise again. Unlike Earth, where a tree could take decades or even centuries to mature, nature here was miraculous.
"The food chain in nature is intricate and tightly woven. Deep in the forest, ordinary animals can't survive. Some Pokémon live off berries and plants, but most survive by preying on each other. Pidgeot and Fearow hunt Weedle and Caterpie, while Beedrill and Butterfree retaliate by targeting Pidgey and Spearow..."
Predation among Pokémon had always existed. Even with their intelligence and sentience, the cycle remained. It made perfect sense—if Pokémon didn't prey on one another, the ecosystem would collapse under the pressure of unchecked population growth.
Pokémon lived for a long time—most could accompany a human throughout their lifetime. Trained Pokémon could live even longer. Even species like Beedrill, known for short lifespans, could easily live over a decade, and with proper training, even decades or centuries. Combine that with their high reproduction rates, and it was clear that without natural checks like predation, nature would've already buckled. It would lead to the collapse of entire ecosystems and eventually, the extinction of Pokémon themselves.
Thus, predation among Pokémon wasn't just natural—it was vital, a system of checks and balances that mirrored human behavior. When humans became too numerous and resources ran low, conflict was inevitable—unless they expanded to other planets.
"Pokémon aren't limited to just four moves. At first, I thought it was unique to Mewtwo—that it was due to his special nature that he could use so many techniques. But once Gible became my partner, I noticed he too could learn skills beyond his genetic inheritance—skills he shouldn't have been able to use so soon. There's no 'TM machine' in this real world pressing buttons to teach moves, so it must have something to do with my own uniqueness… If this 'Dragon Tamer's Power' is something inherited by this body's bloodline, then perhaps the real cause is my soul itself…"
Logan continued writing in Mandarin—no one in this world could understand it, so it was perfect for keeping his secrets safe. Gible's Flamethrower, for example, was a move it could technically learn, but only through intense training. Yet it had somehow picked it up on its own. It was still a bit rough around the edges, but if it could use it—it knew it.
"Still, no matter how many moves a Pokémon knows, it only adds variety to their battle style. Gible is a Dragon/Ground-type. Converting its energy to Fire-type means the resulting power is weaker than a pure Fire-type using the same move. There's still the element of surprise and the possibility of a decisive strike—especially against Grass-types—but using it as a main tactic? Not worth it."
"There are no move limits or health bars in reality, but after a month of observation, I've come to one conclusion: Energy equals stamina. Whether it's continuous movement or repeated skill usage, both drain stamina and energy. A severely injured body bleeds energy rapidly, and if a Pokémon takes a fatal hit... it's over in an instant."
"Pokémon may defy science in some ways, but there's still logic to their existence."
Logan muttered to himself as he wrote. Living in the wild for so long had made talking to himself a necessity. Without it, he might even forget he was human.
[Why are you writing all this down? Is it a human habit?]
Mewtwo, ever nearby, asked during one of Logan's brief pauses.
[Human life is limited. Unlike Pokémon, we can't pass on knowledge genetically. Writing is how we preserve and transmit knowledge—our civilization's way of inheritance. It also helps me organize the chaos in my brain, understand the world better, and understand myself and my Pokémon.]
Logan smiled as he explained. Nine years of compulsory education, three years of high school, and four years of university had given him well-honed thought patterns. Education, he believed, was indispensable. Not just for knowledge—but for developing wisdom and rationality.
"But why does the Pokémon League officially restrict trainers to only six Pokémon? You could carry sixty Poké Balls if you didn't mind the weight. I've got no real-life experience here, so I have to trust what the books say…"
Logan rubbed his chin. This was something that had puzzled him deeply. In games, any extra Pokémon went straight to the PC, but in reality, no such feature existed. According to what he'd learned from Professor Oak, the six-Pokémon limit wasn't arbitrary—it was the result of over two thousand years of human experience, supported by modern mathematics and algorithmic research.
A trainer's bond with their Pokémon was part of their battle strength. If someone spent all their time on six Pokémon versus sixty, the difference would be enormous. True trust was built through companionship, and that was also how love for one's Pokémon was expressed.
To Logan, Ash from the anime never truly loved his Pokémon. Aside from Pikachu, none of his Pokémon stayed by his side. Without prolonged companionship, how could trust be real? Constantly swapping out Pokémon with each new region? That was just for showcasing diversity in the show. In reality, a trainer like that was irresponsible—maybe not even worthy of the title Trainer.
Most real trainers kept a fixed team—usually just a few lifelong partners. Even Gym Leaders, with more needs, rarely trained more than a dozen. Many spent their whole lives with only two or three Pokémon. The bond built with such a small team was unshakable—a loyalty that could lead a Pokémon to sacrifice itself for its trainer. They weren't just allies. They were family.
Why train new Pokémon when you could keep refining the ones you had? Quality often outweighed quantity, and human attention had limits.
Battles weren't always one-on-one. Group fights were common. Research had shown six was the maximum number a human could effectively command at once. Even if you had sixty powerful Pokémon, you'd only be able to give basic commands like "Everyone, use Flamethrower!"—far too crude for tactical fighting.
"That's why learning from those who came before is important. Even though I've captured many Pokémon during my journey, I don't use them. I'm best suited to raising Dragons. My goal is to find six dragons that can walk with me for life. If I meet a particularly special Pokémon along the way, I might make room for it. But I don't want to risk bonding with a Pokémon I won't end up keeping—so I don't use them at all."
Logan pulled out a few Poké Balls from his belt. Inside were the Pokémon he'd caught in Viridian Forest—some even strong—but he'd never used them. Gible was his sole companion in battle, and that was by design.
Later, he'd send the others to Professor Oak's lab. Whether they were studied, released, or handed out to new trainers—that would be Oak's decision. To Logan, only the Pokémon who stayed by his side counted as true comrades and family.
And Mewtwo? Logan had always counted him as his seventh Pokémon, not among the six slots he was reserving.
"Time to rest. Who knows what fun things tomorrow will bring."
As night fell, Logan packed up his paper and pen and let out a yawn.
"…Gible, night watch is on you tonight. Other than Mewtwo, you're the only one I can count on for this. Once my team's complete, we'll take turns. For now, sorry to trouble you."
Gible chirped energetically in response, trotted over to nudge Logan, then laid down at the tent's entrance with its head poking outside, alert and watchful.
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