The Indigo Plateau was famous throughout both the Kanto and Johto regions, for it housed the headquarters of the Pokémon League that governed them.
Originally, the Indigo Plateau had been a barren and sparsely inhabited highland. But ever since the League established its headquarters here, a thriving city had sprung up on its habitable grounds.
Though its permanent population numbered only in the hundreds of thousands, whenever the Indigo Conference was held, that number would instantly multiply several times over.
The Pokémon League Conference was the greatest festival and celebration in human society, held once every three years. By now, it had already reached its fifteenth tournament. Compared to the conferences in Hoenn or Sinnoh, the Indigo Conference was larger in scale and received far more global attention, for it united not just one, but two regions—Kanto and Johto.
It was, in effect, the Olympics of the Pokémon world, drawing the eyes of the entire globe.
The Indigo Plateau was purely a tourist city. Even when no League tournament was being held, countless travelers came to admire its unique plateau landscapes. Most of its residents made their living through inns, hotels, and the selling of local specialties.
But the most striking structure was not the League's headquarters—it was the colossal open-air stadium at the city's center. Covering more than fifty hectares, it was the site of the semifinals and finals of the Indigo Conference. With a seating capacity of 250,000 spectators, it was the largest building in the Kanto region.
Nearly every other building in the city was either a hotel or a restaurant. In fact, rooms here were booked solid an entire year in advance.
A week before the Conference, airplanes from every region crisscrossed the skies, landing one after another at the Indigo Plateau's airport. The city began to fill with color, music, and endless laughter, transforming into a sea of celebration.
Three days before the Conference began, the sacred torch relay would commence outside the Plateau. Carried by chosen torchbearers for three full days, the flame would be brought along the newly named Victory Road, until it finally reached the stadium, where it would ignite the sacred flame in front of tens of thousands of spectators.
The flame itself was said to come from none other than Moltres, the legendary Firebird of Kanto. It had burned ever since the League's founding, for seventy years without ever extinguishing. It was whispered that Moltres's fire might burn eternally, so long as no outside force intervened.
From the depths of a nameless mountain range, a shadow pierced the heavens. It streaked upward at incredible speed, shattering cloud after cloud with ear-rending sonic booms. Like a bolt of living lightning, it soared toward the Indigo Plateau.
On its back stood Logan, his expression calm and unreadable. He stood with hands clasped behind him, while Eevee nestled comfortably on his shoulder. Together, they embraced the thrill of flight at Mach 1.5, faster than the speed of sound. Clouds split before them like the parting of the sea, leaving only vapor trails and echoing thunderclaps in their wake.
At such speed, crossing the entire Kanto region from one end to the other would take barely two hours. Before long, the breathtaking plateau came into view.
The rules of the Indigo Conference dictated that each trainer could bring up to six Pokémon into battle. But it was not mandatory. Because of the strict age restrictions, most trainers had only three years of training experience at best. Very few had six fully battle-ready Pokémon.
As far as Logan knew, Red had only four viable Pokémon. Blue had five. And Logan himself—if one did not count Mewtwo and Mew—had just three.
But numbers were never the deciding factor in battle. A single Pokémon could defeat six if the gap in strength was wide enough. Thus, the League had no strict requirement that six Pokémon be used. If a trainer was confident enough to enter with only one, they could—but if that one was defeated, their journey would end instantly.
"Garchomp, avoid the western airways near the Plateau. Those are for passenger planes. We'll enter from the east."
Logan's sharp eyes caught sight of the tiny black specks in the distance—planes moving along their scheduled routes. He guided Garchomp away.
Compared to civilian aircraft, Garchomp was a fighter jet and bomber combined. Its attacks could be unleashed like guided missiles, and even a direct collision would shear a plane in half.
Not even modern missile systems could reliably pierce Garchomp's dragon scales and natural energy field. This was precisely why, despite the world's advanced technology, weapons development lagged far behind. Against Pokémon—especially legendary ones—guns and missiles were futile. Training Pokémon was far more effective.
Indeed, the strongest Pokémon were nothing less than walking natural disasters—living strategic weapons.
On the eastern side of the Plateau lay a wide field designated for trainers who arrived on flying Pokémon. Trainers and their partners could be seen landing in steady streams.
Garchomp descended like a falling meteor. From near-supersonic speed, it braked to a perfect hover less than ten meters above the ground. The sudden deceleration whipped up a violent gale that nearly knocked nearby trainers and their Pokémon off their feet.
Then, as gracefully as a feather, Garchomp landed. Logan dismounted in one fluid motion and recalled his dragon into its Poké Ball.
The sheer size of the dragon drew gasps of awe. Murmurs spread through the crowd, many recognizing the now-renowned trainer.
The media had been waiting for this moment. Ever since the Saffron City incident, Logan had vanished for over a month and a half. Everyone assumed he was preparing for the Indigo Conference, but to journalists, his absence was agony. Such a perfect story—and yet their star was nowhere to be found. Now, finally, they had him.
Reporters surged forward, microphones nearly jammed into his face, voices tumbling over each other with question after question.
Logan ignored them. A pulse of psychic energy flared around him, parting the crowd and clearing a straight path as he calmly walked toward the roadside.
At that very moment, the torchbearers passed by with the sacred flame. The crowd roared with excitement, rushing to catch a glimpse, snapping photos, waving flags.
For a fleeting moment, Logan watched them. Despite the Pokémon, despite the legendary beings that walked this world… at its core, humanity here was not so different from the world he once knew.
Humans were still humans.
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