Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

Logan’s scalp crawled at the sight of so many bugs. He had never been fond of insects, and now, staring at the writhing mass of creepy-crawlies ahead, his latent trypophobia kicked in hard. Goosebumps prickled across his skin.

"Absolutely disgusting... But perfect. Most of the Beedrill swarm is out hunting or fighting. This is our chance, Gible."

Crouched low in the underbrush, Logan patted Gible’s head. The two began sneaking toward the Beedrill hive, slowly, silently. As they moved, Gible’s mouth began to water—his eyes gleaming with greed.

Beedrill honey wasn’t just rare—it was a luxury product. On the market, it fetched sky-high prices. Gathered from flower fields and Grass-type Pokémon habitats, the honey was bursting with nutrients and exquisite in taste. But the challenge wasn’t the honey itself—it was the swarm. Beedrill didn’t live alone. They nested in numbers, and raiding a hive was near-suicidal. That’s why this honey was so prized.

Logan and Gible had managed to steal some once before. The taste? Sweet, smooth, and laced with the delicate fragrance of wildflowers—it was unforgettable. One taste was all it took to become obsessed. Logan had even considered unleashing Mewtwo just to wipe out an entire Beedrill colony so he could binge on honey without worry.

"Hurry up, I’ll wait under this tree!"

Logan barked like a gruff foreman, shooing Gible up the tree. Excited, Gible scampered up with the container Logan had prepared, totally ignoring the Kakuna staring at him from nearby branches. He carefully avoided the few Beedrill left guarding the nest and eagerly began scooping up honey.

Minutes ticked by. Logan kept close, scanning their surroundings with nervous anticipation. He silently begged Gible to move faster.

But fate wasn’t feeling generous today. The hunting Beedrill hadn’t gone far. Before long, the ominous hum of beating wings returned, growing louder by the second. Logan’s expression twisted with panic. He abandoned stealth and shouted upward, "Get down, Gible! Drop the honey! Their queen’s back!"

Like a spark dropped into oil, chaos erupted instantly. The Weedle in the nearby trees grew restless. The guards at the hive let out piercing screeches, calling the swarm.

Gible jumped down with a thud, honey jar in hand, landing beside Logan.

"Plan B! Use Flamethrower!"

With a snap of his fingers, Logan gave the order. Gible’s mouth ignited, and a jet of fire roared from his jaws—not toward the airborne Beedrill, but at the defenseless Kakuna hanging silently from tree limbs.

The fire raged like a wildfire, dancing from trunk to trunk. The oppressive heat slammed against Logan’s face, stirring memories of that hellish escape from the research facility—the unbearable heat, the scorched air.

But this time, it wasn’t him being roasted alive. It was his Pokémon unleashing the inferno.

Logan stood firm, feeling only the heat—not pain. From the corners of his eyes, he could swear the motionless Kakuna were trembling in fear. The Beedrill swarm, enraged, immediately abandoned the two thieves and rushed toward the flames, desperate to save their young.

"All this... just for gluttony and greed, huh? Tch."

Logan didn’t show an ounce of guilt. He patted the futuristic pouch at his hip and licked his lips, already imagining how the honey would enhance their meals over the next few days. With a nod to Gible, the two bolted from the crime scene.

Only one Beedrill didn’t turn back to help its colony. It flew after them with relentless fury—its single remaining eye burning with hate.

"That’s the leader," Logan muttered, glancing back. "Missing an eye... must’ve survived a hundred battles. Perfect. Let’s test something new."

As they ran, Logan threw a glance at Gible, then reached for an empty Poké Ball. In a swift motion, he returned Gible inside. His eyes glowed faintly purple as the Poké Ball floated above his hand.

He spun and faced the oncoming Beedrill. With a flick of his fingers, the ball launched forward like a missile.

The seasoned Beedrill veered sharply, avoiding it with smug ease—but then bang! The Poké Ball exploded mid-air in a puff of smoke, revealing Gible already mid-attack.

"Dragon Pulse!"

The command came like a gunshot.

Gible let out a thunderous roar. It was less a beam and more a sonic blast—a true dragon’s howl. The very air rippled from the power. Caught point-blank, the Beedrill’s wings faltered. It froze mid-flight, body spasming as internal injuries wracked it.

Gible slammed into it from above, driving both of them into the earth below with a devastating crash. When the dust cleared, Gible stood tall, the one-eyed Beedrill crushed beneath his feet, barely conscious.

"Ha! Now that’s how you use a Poké Ball. Who says you have to throw it in front of you?"

Logan grinned as Gible barked in triumph, smacking the downed Beedrill a few more times for good measure before hopping off.

"When you evolve into Garchomp, you won’t need any of these tricks. Next time we want honey, we’ll just storm the hive head-on."

They walked off laughing, spirits lifted, as Gible daydreamed of his future self—majestic, unstoppable, ruling over the Beedrill with drool dripping from his fangs.

But they hadn’t gone far when Logan suddenly raised a hand.

"Wait. Don’t move."

He crept toward a flattened patch of grass, five meters to the left. Pushing aside the leaves, he frowned.

"...Human tracks. More than one person. Fresh—left here today."

He stood still, tone sharp and serious.

He wasn’t a wilderness survival expert—yet. But after more than a month in the depths of Viridian Forest, Logan had learned to read the land like a seasoned predator.

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