"The Pokémon called Mewtwo just waved its hand—just waved it once and my Incineroar was sent flying straight into the ceiling, can you believe it!?"
Yezo complained furiously over the phone.
Silas nodded silently. Of course he knew. Mewtwo, after all, was an artificially created Legendary Pokémon.
No matter how it defeated Yezo's two Pokémon, it wasn't surprising. Even if it was said that Mewtwo's power was being restrained by a device created by Giovanni, its energy level didn't directly equate to its true strength.
Especially for a Pokémon bearing the title of a Legendary.
No one knew exactly how Team Rocket had succeeded in their genetic experiments to bring such a being into existence.
Even in a world as technologically advanced as this, creating a Legendary Pokémon was a feat beyond comprehension.
Otherwise, if Legendary Pokémon could be man-made, then pseudo-Legendaries would be everywhere—and that was clearly impossible.
Creating artificial Pokémon had long been condemned both morally and scientifically.
Even with modern genetic science, cloning had never reached the point where a completely stable artificial Pokémon could exist.
At least from what Silas knew, the side effects were catastrophic.
Most clones could only live for about seven days before their genetic structures collapsed.
And that was not even considering their mental instability—they lacked the intelligence and vitality of natural Pokémon.
There were problems in every aspect of their existence, and no researcher could pinpoint the root cause, let alone solve it.
So the technology was soon sealed away.
Whether someone continued those experiments in secret was something Silas didn't know.
Team Rocket was the only organization that had barely succeeded—thanks to the genetic material of Mew, said to be the origin of all Pokémon life.
Most other cloning methods, like those used by poaching organizations in Sinnoh (such as Hunter J's group), produced artificial Pokémon that were essentially one-use weapons—lifeless and unstable.
As for how Mewtwo, a Psychic-type Pokémon, could damage an Incineroar, which is part Dark-type, there were plenty of explanations.
Type immunities only applied to direct energy or physical attacks.
For example, Electric-type moves like Thunderbolt would deal no damage to a Ground-type Pokémon when the energy directly struck its body.
This was considered a fundamental rule of the Pokémon world, likely related to each Pokémon's unique energy field or magnetic resonance.
But that theory was too deep for Silas to fully understand and not something he needed to.
However, if that same Thunderbolt shattered nearby rocks and the debris then struck the Ground-type Pokémon, it would still take physical damage—albeit minor.
The same logic applied to Dark-types and Psychic-types.
A skilled Psychic Pokémon could manipulate the air or environment around a Dark-type, indirectly causing harm without directly attacking its body.
When two Pokémon of similar strength fought, such indirect methods rarely caused major damage, so most Trainers wouldn't deliberately rely on them in battle.
Type advantage was one thing—immunity was another.
Of course, to someone like Giovanni—backed by Mewtwo—such details didn't matter.
No "type immunity" would stop him from winning.
Silas expressed appropriate sympathy.
"So, are you planning to challenge the Gym again tomorrow?"
Yezo grunted in frustration.
Each Gym allowed up to three challenges per month, with a maximum of two per week—rules made to prevent Trainers from harassing Gym Leaders endlessly.
It was Wednesday; registration for the Indigo Plateau Conference closed on February 10th, Sunday.
That meant if Yezo failed his next match too, he'd have to rush to another Gym immediately—or he'd miss this year's tournament entirely.
It wasn't impossible, though.
Although the Gyms were crowded with challengers so close to the League, Yezo still had connections—as the grandson of Agatha, one of the Elite Four.
He could easily move up the waiting list.
And if all else failed, a Gym Leader would rarely refuse a direct challenge from someone like him—it was, after all, part of their duty.
Still, losing twice in a row wouldn't sound great.
Being Agatha's grandson already drew attention, and losing to Giovanni once was forgivable—especially since Giovanni was now using Mewtwo in Gym battles.
Once word got out that no one could defeat Mewtwo, Yezo wouldn't be mocked for being the first to lose.
Not to mention, Giovanni's commanding ability was on par with a Champion, even if he officially held only the title of Gym Leader.
Losing to a Gym Leader was perfectly normal.
It only became strange when a challenger lost yet still received a badge—though even that couldn't easily be criticized, since a Gym Leader's "recognition" was ultimately a matter of personal judgment.
Silas frowned slightly at the thought.
In his memory, after Ash completed the Hoenn League, the temporary leader of the Viridian Gym was Agatha herself.
Apparently, Giovanni's secret identity had been exposed following Mewtwo's escape, and the League hadn't found a permanent replacement in time.
But that raised a question—having an Elite Four member serve as a temporary Gym Leader seemed odd.
There were other high-ranking Trainers available.
He speculated that perhaps Agatha had taken interest because of Yezo's situation.
After all, she was known to deeply care for her grandchildren.
"Well, good luck," Silas said at last.
He glanced at the time—if he didn't return soon, the meeting staff would start wondering where he'd gone.
After saying goodbye, he left the restroom and rejoined the preparations.
He wasn't too worried.
Even in the worst case, as long as Yezo didn't face Giovanni again, his two pseudo-Legendary Pokémon would easily win a Gym match.
There was no need for concern.
"Ah, Silas, you're back."
The coordinator from Viridian City approached him as he entered the conference room.
"We've discussed it with the League—the torch relay will now begin on the morning of the 8th instead of the afternoon. That gives us more flexibility. Two and a half days should be plenty of time for both your run and our preparations."
They were clearly taking into account Silas's youth.
Previous torchbearers had always been adults with strong physical endurance.
Running from Viridian City all the way to the Indigo Plateau was no small feat.
Silas didn't mind.
Still, he appreciated their concern.
"Got it, I understand," he replied promptly.
The city officials nodded and moved on to other arrangements.
Days passed quickly in a blur of sunrises and sunsets.
Morning of February 8th.
After two busy days of nonstop preparation, Silas sat in his room as the styling team fussed over his appearance.
Thankfully, they didn't insist on changing his hairstyle—just a light trim to his wolf-tail cut.
When everything was ready, he changed into the red-and-white torchbearer uniform.
Admiring his reflection, Silas released his Blaziken to walk beside him and stepped outside.
The moment he opened the door, the crowd's energy hit him like a wave.
Beyond the barricades, the citizens of Viridian City cheered wildly, their voices thundering through the streets.
Following the decorated parade vehicle, Silas and Blaziken carried an unlit torch toward the city's northern exit—the route leading to the Indigo Plateau.
Half an hour later, the previous city's torchbearer arrived under the watchful eyes of the crowd.
The two torchbearers nodded respectfully to each other.
Silas raised his unlit torch and received the sacred flame, beginning his run.
Inside the Viridian Gym's luxurious lounge, Giovanni reclined in a massive armchair.
Beside him lay his Persian, its fur perfectly groomed.
Floating silently behind him was Mewtwo.
"What is this?"
Mewtwo asked, its telepathic voice echoing through the room as it watched the television screen.
"Just a meaningless ceremony," Giovanni replied calmly.
To him, Mewtwo was a weapon of conquest—there was no need for it to understand such trivial human rituals.
"I can sense a strong aura from within that flame," Mewtwo continued.
"That's Moltres. But it's only a small fragment of its sacred fire."
Giovanni stroked Persian's fur, a faint, unreadable smile appearing on his lips.
What terrifying power… To think it could sense the sacred flame from here, far outside the city. He thought to himself.
Of course, that suited him just fine. The stronger Mewtwo became, the better. After all, it could never escape the palm of his hand.
"Moltres, huh? Can it fight?"
Mewtwo's eyes, hidden behind its special restraint armor, reflected indifference. For it, the only question that mattered was whether there were still Pokémon in the world capable of challenging it.
So far, every opponent Giovanni had sent against it had been utterly crushed.
Even with the restrictive armor that caused it immense discomfort, Mewtwo had to carefully control its strength—lest its opponents die on the spot.
Giovanni had told it that killing opponents would cause unnecessary trouble.
Mewtwo hated restraint. But it hated "trouble" even more. With the time wasted solving those "troubles," it could be thinking instead about deeper questions—philosophical ones.
Without realizing it, Mewtwo once again drifted into thought: "Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?"
Giovanni didn't answer Mewtwo's earlier question. He hadn't created Mewtwo to fight Legendary Pokémon anyway.
He picked up the phone and made a call.
"Boss, the item has been handed over to the Collector," came the voice of Secretary Domino
"Good. Since that deal's done, let's ease off on Hunter J's side for now," Giovanni replied, his tone light as he continued to pet Persian.
Domino hesitated. "Boss, the Collector… he—"
"Whatever he's planning isn't our concern," Giovanni interrupted. "Even if he's foolish enough to provoke those three on the Orange Islands, it's no business of ours. We simply sold him what he wanted at a fair price."
"Yes, sir. Also, Athena successfully completed her mission on Cinnabar Island. Those weaklings have all been handed over to our… 'allies.'"
Giovanni nodded slightly, listening as Domino continued her report.
"What about Jessie, and that young heir from the Sasaki family? I remember sending Meowth to team up with them."
Persian's eyes flickered with annoyance at the mention of Meowth but did not move under Giovanni's hand.
"The trio is currently ranked second overall—quite impressive," Domino replied, knowing exactly what her boss wanted to hear.
"There's been movement within the League lately," Giovanni said coldly. "Tell Viper to stay alert. If necessary, have them pull out."
"Yes, Boss!" Domino's voice carried a trace of fanaticism.
She continued to report on the whereabouts of other Team Rocket executives. Giovanni listened quietly, occasionally replying with brief comments.
From the darkened room, he looked out the window. Outside, crowds of people were returning from the Torch Relay ceremony, now preparing to follow the rest of the journey on television.
Aside from a handful of devoted Moltres fans, most people didn't have the energy—or the money—to follow it all the way.
The officials couldn't possibly manage or protect every spectator who tried to trail along through the wilderness. Their manpower was limited.
After finishing the call with Domino, Giovanni turned his gaze back to Mewtwo.
"From now on," he said coldly, "your only task is to defeat every opponent I assign to you."
His tone was completely different from when he had spoken with Domino.
Mewtwo didn't reply. Was there even a need to?
It was undefeated.
Out in the open fields, Silas and his Blaziken ran in perfect rhythm, their arms and legs moving in sync.
Their unspoken coordination was broadcast live through the cameras mounted on the leading van, sending their image across the Kanto region and beyond.
"Yo, Silas, that kid's doing great."
At the Oak Laboratory, Professor Oak and Professor Rowan were taking a short break, watching the broadcast surrounded by a circle of young researchers.
Everyone smiled warmly. Silas had visited the Oak Lab many times before; bright minds naturally recognized one another.
Many of the ideas and hypotheses Silas had proposed—born of his unusual insight—had inspired entire new lines of research.
They already missed that boy on the screen.
"Mm, you've got a good eye, I see. Must've inherited mine!"
At Pewter Gym, Flint sat proudly on the couch, boasting to Brock.
Brock and Jiro (Forrest) ignored him completely.
"Big brother, jealous yet?" Jiro teased with a grin.
Brock narrowed his eyes at the TV and said nothing.
"So that's your friend, huh? Not bad, not bad."
In Celadon City, inside a room filled with equipment and boxes, a middle-aged woman spoke to Snow (Yuki).
"His main's a Blaziken though—not ideal," she muttered with mild disapproval.
Snow smiled helplessly, holding an incubator in her arms. Inside was a red egg.
At the Saffron Gym, Sabrina idly played with the air. A blue-violet psychic screen unfolded before her like a living painting.
In Sinnoh, Johto, and other regions, all those who knew Silas were watching the same screen—this young man, who would surely make his mark in the upcoming League.
.....
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