As the only competitor in this year's tournament to hold all eight badges, Logan had the privilege of skipping the preliminary rounds and entering directly into the later stage.
And though Kanto only officially had seven Gyms, the League did not question the source of his eighth badge. After all, even Green's badges—many of them stolen—were still permitted for entry. Ultimately, the champion would be crowned under the eyes of over 200,000 live spectators in the stadium and hundreds of millions more watching via TV and online broadcast. Under such scrutiny, cheating was impossible.
In addition to the main stadium on Indigo Plateau, there were sixteen smaller arenas where the preliminaries took place. These matches would determine the top sixteen contenders, who would then advance to the central stage to battle for the ultimate crown.
For Logan, the path was simple. As the only seeded contestant, he merely had to face the final winner of his assigned division. One single victory was enough to guarantee him a spot in the top sixteen—the true weight of the Gym Badges in tournament play.
Thus, several days passed before Logan's first match even began.
Each of the sixteen side arenas featured randomly assigned battlefields: fire, water, grass, rock, and more. Whether the field favored a trainer's team or not depended entirely on luck. But as the League itself often said—luck is also a part of strength.
The rest area doors swung open—
"WOOOAAAAH!"
The crowd erupted in a deafening roar the moment Logan stepped out. The seats of the arena were filled to the brim, every spectator eager for the first top-16 contestant of Division One to be decided.
The matchup: a trainer from Cinnabar Island against the seeded challenger—Logan.
Across Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, and even farther regions, countless people sat before TVs and monitors, snacks in hand, eyes glued to the broadcast. Logan, already the most talked-about figure of this year's Indigo Conference, was the center of the world's attention.
The cheers escalated to a fever pitch as Logan appeared. His name echoed again and again, the sound shaking the stadium's rafters. His opponent's face soured at the sheer imbalance of attention.
"You may be famous in Kanto," the Cinnabar trainer shouted bitterly, "but fame doesn't equal strength! Today, I'll crush you here and walk the path to Champion!"
They were all youths, most under twenty years old. Being overshadowed to this extent was unbearable. His defiance was the only shield he had left.
"Are you done?" Logan replied lazily, hands stuffed in his pockets. "If so, let's just start. Words won't win you battles. Show me your strength—if you have any."
"Division One final match! Random field selected—Grass Terrain! The battle begins!"
With the referee's announcement, the smooth stadium floor shifted, transforming into a lush meadow.
"Grass field, huh? Perfect! Not fire, but close enough. My Pokémon will thrive here. Go, Arcanine!"
His opponent's joy was obvious as he threw his Poké Ball, unleashing a massive Arcanine.
Order of Pokémon was pre-determined before the match—no mid-battle switches allowed. Knowing an opponent's habits and lineup was part of every trainer's prep work. But for Logan, none of this mattered. His opponent was far too weak.
The crowd went wild. The reporters had swarmed every aisle, eager for photos of this match. Logan gave a carefree smile and tossed his Poké Ball.
"Go, Garchomp."
The second Garchomp emerged, the air changed. Its massive frame radiated pure dragon pressure. Unlike Gyarados's Intimidate ability, Garchomp's very presence carried a dragon's aura, crushing hearts by sheer will alone.
In Sinnoh, a girl leaned forward toward her TV, eyes wide, as though proximity would let her better study this rare and terrifying Pokémon.
"It's here! The Gible and Gabite we saw excel in Pewter and Cerulean Gym battles have finally evolved into their final form—Garchomp! This species is exceptionally rare even in Sinnoh. What will Logan show us with it today?!"
The commentator's voice nearly broke from excitement, stirring the audience into frenzy.
"You're starting with your ace?!" the Cinnabar trainer exclaimed.
Normally, in a 3v3 format, trainers opened with a flexible scout Pokémon, saved their ace for the middle, and used their final Pokémon as support. But Logan?
He just smirked.
"The proper order for me would've been Eevee, then Garchomp, then Dragonair. But honestly, against you? No point. Tell you what: if your three Pokémon can beat my Garchomp, I'll admit defeat."
The insult made the trainer's blood boil.
"Arcanine, show them! Heat Wave!"
Arcanine unleashed a scorching wind, burning the grass field and sending flames dancing. Fire-types thrived on grass terrain—his words were true.
"Not dodging?!" he yelled as Garchomp stood unmoved.
"Dodging? Unnecessary." Logan's voice was cold. "That pitiful heat can't hurt my dragon. Garchomp—finish all three of his Pokémon. I don't care how."
Then, hands still in pockets, Logan casually walked off the trainer's platform and down toward the field.
"You bastard, where are you going?!" his opponent screamed in outrage.
"If you have time to yell, you should check on your Arcanine."
"Wha—?!"
Before the trainer could react, Garchomp plowed straight through the scorching winds, energy crackling around its body. If there'd been a device to measure it, the machine would've shattered—its power was off the charts.
With a devastating strike, Arcanine's massive body was hurled across the battlefield, crashing into the guard rails and embedding into them like a broken statue.
Silence. Then—an explosion of cheers.
Human nature always leaned toward the raw, the violent. And Garchomp's sheer dominance was intoxicating.
"Arcanine!!"
The trainer recalled his fainted Pokémon with trembling hands, already pale. Gritting his teeth, he threw his second Poké Ball.
"Go, Rapidash! Use Agil—"
But before the command finished, Garchomp blurred into motion, its massive body defying physics with its speed. With twin Dragon Claws, it slashed across Rapidash. Blood sprayed as the horse Pokémon collapsed with a cry.
"This… this can't be! The difference in power—this big?!"
The trainer was trembling now. His strongest Pokémon had been obliterated in seconds.
"Not surprising," Logan said flatly. "You're from Cinnabar, right? Fire-types, all the way down. Hurry up. Call out your last Pokémon, so we can end this."
The trainer's grip on his last Poké Ball shook violently. Then, slowly, his shoulders slumped. A broken laugh escaped him.
"…I surrender. I admit defeat."
He knew. Continuing would only mean more pain for his partners.
Logan nodded approvingly. "A wise choice. Knowing when to stop and protect your Pokémon—that's what makes you a decent trainer, even if your strength isn't there yet."
He turned toward the referee. "Well? Shouldn't you declare my win?"
The referee jolted as if waking from a trance. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he shouted:
"The first contestant to enter the Top Sixteen of the Indigo Conference—Logan!!"
The audience erupted, a tidal wave of cheers shaking the stadium. Flash after flash blinded the arena as cameras captured the boy who had ended the match in record time—perhaps the fastest victory in the history of the Conference.
Logan stood in the center of the battlefield, hands in pockets, unbothered. The Dragon Master's legend was only just beginning.
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