An unnatural mass of black clouds smothered the sky, swallowing the once-blue heavens and the sapphire sea below.
Beneath that oppressive darkness, wild ocean winds howled while towering waves rose like beasts. Cutting through the stormy horizon, two Dragonair glided low across the sea surface — serpentine, ethereal, their forms vanishing and reappearing between curtains of rain like mythical dragons from old tales.
Upon the head of one Dragonair stood a man — arms crossed, red hair blazing like embers against the storm.
He wore a crimson vest matching his hair, and behind him a black-and-red cape cracked violently in the wind. There he stood, unmoving like a statue carved from storm clouds, eyes locked forward with a cold, unwavering resolve.
"Back in Kanto at last…"
He murmured to the sea — words too quiet for any soul to hear.
This man was none other than Lance, Head of the Kanto Elite Four — just returned from Unova.
Lance slowly lifted his gaze, as if his eyes pierced through the dark cloud ceiling itself — glimpsing a silhouette soaring high above the clouds.
"The plan succeeded after all. Good… time to accelerate everything."
He smirked, eyes burning with twisted excitement.
"But before the world witnesses it… I need a place to test it."
His first target lay ahead — where land met the sea. The sprawling port city of Vermilion.
The gateway of the Kanto ocean routes — of course he would choose it first.
But suddenly — he frowned.
"The Flow-trail disappeared. The injured Dragonair… where did it fall?"
His eyes searched the storm sky. Flow-trails — the invisible path marks left behind by flying dragons — only a dragon tamer could see. But this one had vanished.
"…Probably landed along Vermilion's coast. Wild Pokémon avoid populated areas."
He exhaled — then smiled with terrifying calm.
"Good. If no one interferes, I won't have to hold back."
Lightning flashed across his face, revealing the full madness beneath his eyes.
For many years — since the day he saved a dying Dratini from a polluted river — Lance had vowed to reshape the world.
Purge humanity.
Return land, sea, and sky to Pokémon.
Create a utopia where only trainers bonded with Pokémon deserve to exist.
A world without corrupt cities or weak humans — a world of dragons and strength.
And now, his wish was finally within reach.
He opened his arms wide, laughing into the storm:
"It's time, Dragonair! Our lifelong dream is on the cusp of reality!"
"Gather every ounce of your power — drown that filthy human city under the sea!"
His roar cracked like thunder.
"Let the ocean reclaim what was stolen! Hahahahaha!!"
Dragonair's horn shone violently, gathering electric charge.
A storm answered — lightning split the clouds, illuminating another figure watching from above.
Meanwhile…
"Flow-trail!"
Logan sprinted with Cynthia, Green, and Yellow toward the coast.
"Dragons flying through the sky leave these lines behind — invisible to ordinary humans, like contrails behind planes. I can see them because of… reasons. A dragon fell nearby."
Their pace quickened. The hidden shore of Vermilion was deserted — too shallow for ships, too remote for tourists.
Yet a crowd had gathered nervously around something massive on the sand.
Logan's eyes narrowed.
"A wild Dragonair. Rare — extremely rare."
Green blinked in disbelief.
Dragonair were treasures — most trainers never saw one in their lifetime.
But this one was wounded — severely.
It roared weakly, coiled on the shore, lashing its tail in warning yet unable to move.
No trainer among the crowd — only frightened civilians.
A dragon stranded on land, mocked helplessly by circumstance.
"Let's go. Before local trainers arrive."
Logan strode forward, the girls behind him. Rare prey shouldn't fall into random hands — if fate brought it here, then he would claim it. For himself, or for one of the girls if they wished.
A gift of a dragon is worth more than gold.
As they approached, whispers broke through the crowd.
"It's the Champion!"
People gasped, parting to open a path. Concerned bystanders warned:
"Be careful, sir! That thing is—"
But their words died as they watched the impossible.
The furious Dragonair — instead of attacking — lowered its head beneath Logan's hand.
Silence. Awe. Fear. Respect.
So this was a Champion.
Not knowing others' thoughts, Logan inspected the wounds and spoke gently:
"Yellow — heal it."
"Coming, big brother!"
She hurried beside him. The Dragonair tense at first, but when Yellow placed her palm on it — a soft green light spread through its scales. Pain eased. Hostility faded.
Their hearts touched.
Green's hair fluttered.
"…Wind?"
Cynthia looked to the sea.
Black clouds churned.
The air pressure dipped.
Logan's eyes sharpened instantly.
"This storm… isn't natural."
Lightning tore the sky.
Two colossal beams of light descended from the clouds — like cannons fired from heaven.
They struck Vermilion with earth-shaking force.
BOOOOOOM!
The world turned white.
Mushroom clouds of dust erupted skyward.
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
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