Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

Professor Oak had a rather bad habit—whenever something good happened, he would celebrate by drinking a little wine in the evening. Unfortunately, his alcohol tolerance was terrible. Each time he drank, he’d fall asleep shortly after. Just a few nights ago, after one of these "celebrations," the professor accidentally brushed against the release switch of a Pokéball, letting out a very young Bulbasaur. Unfamiliar with its surroundings, the startled little Pokémon panicked and bolted. Where it ended up, nobody knew.

The lab didn’t have any proper fencing either, and once a Pokémon wandered far enough, finding it again was close to impossible. After a full day of fruitless searching, both Professor Oak and Logan had no choice but to give up in defeat.

"That Bulbasaur would’ve made the perfect starter Pokémon for a new Trainer. My grandson Blue

already chose the Charmander, and now Bulbasaur’s gone missing... That only leaves a Squirtle," Professor Oak said with a sigh as he muttered at the breakfast table.

In this world, Pokémon weren’t classified by "IVs" or arbitrary "ratings." Logan didn’t have any game-like system to evaluate a Pokémon’s "quality," nor did he think such a measure made much sense. After all, how could one judge a Pokémon’s potential just from its appearance? A Pokémon’s strength came from the energy it wielded—the elemental aura it resonated with—not how it looked. Their bodies evolved over time, shaped by that energy field and the environment they lived in.

As the most respected authority in Pokémon research, Professor Oak’s lab housed mountains of data and research material. Logan had been practically immersed in these fascinating tomes since his arrival, eager to absorb everything.

Types weren’t about visual clues, either. Gyarados looked like a dragon but wasn’t Dragon-type—it resonated with Water and Flying energy. Pokémon performed wonders like breathing fire or summoning lightning thanks to the elemental energies they were inherently aligned with. In Logan’s eyes, Pokémon were more like manifestations of magic or cultivated spirits—less biological and more mystical.

Logically speaking, even Pokémon cloned from Mew’s DNA shouldn’t be particularly powerful. Legendary Pokémon weren’t strong because of their genes, but because they embodied massive energy fields—some even represented fundamental forces of nature. Their genes merely dictated form, not power. And yet, Mewtwo had been born with power rivaling, or even surpassing, Mew itself. Its existence was nothing short of a miracle—an unrepeatable anomaly.

As for Mew, the so-called origin of all Pokémon DNA—perhaps it carried other secrets that made Mewtwo’s birth possible. But that was a question even Logan couldn’t begin to answer.

Pokémon evolution didn’t just depend on battle and training; it also came with age. Their height and weight weren’t fixed either. A pampered Dratini, raised without training, might evolve into a Dragonite barely two meters tall. But one honed from youth by a dedicated Trainer could evolve into a massive Dragonite reaching eight to ten meters in height—a true leviathan. From the outside, it would look like a completely different species. This, Logan thought, explained the enormous disparity between ordinary people and professional Trainers. Two Pokémon of the same species could be worlds apart in strength based on how they were raised.

After breakfast, Logan sat down like a proper scholar, flipping through Oak’s digital archives and thick stacks of handwritten notes. He scribbled furiously, not because he wanted to become a researcher, but because he believed this knowledge was essential. It wasn’t just scientific curiosity—it was understanding the laws of the world. Knowing why Pokémon had power, and how that power worked, was as fundamental as knowing how gravity functioned.

Sure, the Pokémon world had its fair share of weirdness, but it still followed the basic principles of energy conservation.

If this world were reduced to numbers and stats, theoretically, every Pokémon’s offensive and defensive power could be raised infinitely. The "Base Stats" that governed Pokémon in the games weren’t fixed here. The only thing that limited a Pokémon’s growth was the strength of its personal energy field—not its species.

High base stats just meant a Pokémon was easier to raise, that’s all. But given enough time, dedication, and strategy, even a Raticate could become a force to be reckoned with. That wasn’t wishful thinking—it was truth.

"There are no weak Pokémon, only weak Trainers." That saying? 100% accurate in this world.

As for the legendaries? Sure, they had absurd energy levels and were often tied to natural laws, but a strong enough Trainer could raise a team that could rival even them. While those mythical beings had special powers tied to reality itself, a dedicated Trainer could match their raw strength. The only thing missing would be those strange, rule-breaking abilities.

Logan finally closed the densely packed book in front of him, letting out a long stretch and a quiet groan. His muscles were stiff from sitting too long.

"Even if all this knowledge is just built on past generations’ work, it’s still enlightening. Better than groping around in the dark, not knowing where to start."

Theory might only be theory, but it provided a foundation. With it, he’d never be completely lost.

[Human knowledge is incredibly rich... it’s nothing like how we Pokémon evolve or grow.]

Mewtwo’s voice resonated from the Master Ball at Logan’s chest. Though its intelligence rivaled—perhaps even exceeded—that of a human, Mewtwo wasn’t particularly quick at absorbing human knowledge. That might have been the core difference between Pokémon and humans: logic vs instinct, convergence vs divergence, abstract vs emotional reasoning. Humanity had evolved brilliance; Pokémon had evolved power. But together? Together, they became something far greater than the sum of their parts.

"It’s a shame, really. You can’t come out to breathe the fresh air in Pallet Town, or taste the food I’ve been experimenting with..."

Logan’s voice carried a hint of pity.

[Your well-being is more important. There will be time for all that in the future.]

"You’re right as always, Mewtwo. But we’re low on ingredients again. I’d better head into town to stock up."

He stepped out of the lab and gave a sharp whistle. From across the grassy plains came a galloping Rapidash. The Pokémon here—whether wild or domesticated—existed in a semi-tamed state. Most couldn’t fight properly, but they were great for chores and transportation.

This Rapidash wasn’t nearly as powerful or fast as the one belonging to Elite Four’s Flint, but even so, its speed rivaled that of a car.

Logan mounted the flaming steed, shouldered a backpack that felt suspiciously like high-tech wizardry, and set off toward Pallet Town with Rapidash at full gallop.

The vast grasslands blurred past them. Before long, the outline of the town came into view. A few children were playing cheerfully just outside the town limits—and among them, one particular boy immediately caught Logan’s attention.

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