The Cave of Origin is located in the northern part of Sootopolis City.
Just hearing its name, one might easily imagine an ancient temple steeped in history.
In reality, however, despite being called a "shrine," the Cave of Origin has nothing to do with architecture at all—it is merely a cavern.
This place, referred to by Sootopolis historians as the Cave of Origin, lies embedded within a sheer mountain wall. Reaching it by human hands and feet alone is absolutely impossible; only with specialized equipment or by riding a Flying-type Pokémon can one arrive here.
Ruins positioned in such perilous terrain are usually taken very seriously, as there is a high probability that ancient secrets lie within them. However, the Cave of Origin has existed for over a thousand years. Even if it once held any secrets, they would have been unearthed long ago. The Pokémon League itself conducted investigations here in the past, but all of them ultimately ended without results.
Logan rode his Garchomp to the entrance of the Cave of Origin. Outside the cave stood two stone pedestals, but having been exposed to the elements for countless years, they had long since eroded—whatever carvings once adorned them were no longer discernible.
Without the slightest hesitation, Logan walked straight into the cave.
The cavern was enormous in both width and height. Walking within it felt like stepping into the land of giants. The walls bore obvious marks of artificial excavation, clear proof that this so-called Cave of Origin was not a naturally formed structure.
As Logan stepped inside, sunlight from the outside barely illuminated the passageway. Deeper within, the cave plunged into total darkness. Just as Logan was about to summon a Pokémon to light the way, he noticed that the darkness ahead brightened once more—numerous torches were burning at the end of the corridor.
Before him lay a vast, open cavern. At its center stood a stone monument, shaped like a funerary tablet erected for the dead. Like the stone pedestals outside, it had endured the passage of time, but because it lay deep within the cave, it had suffered far less erosion. The inscriptions upon it were still faintly legible.
In addition to the monument, the surrounding cave walls were covered with countless murals.
Just as Logan was about to study the wall carvings, a voice suddenly rang out:
"…Please stop right there. Although this Cave of Origin holds no secrets, it is still forbidden ground within Sootopolis. The remains of the ancestors who built this city are buried here. This is a cavern tied to the origin of life itself."
The voice was gentle, belonging to a man, yet the warning carried unmistakable sternness.
"You must be Sootopolis City's Gym Leader, Wallace, right?"
Logan did not turn around. He simply gazed up at the murals above, his tone calm and leisurely.
"You don't actually live in this empty cave, do you?"
"Of course not. I spend most of my time at the Sootopolis Gym."
Wallace hadn't expected the intruder to remain so composed. There was none of the panic one would expect from a trespasser caught red-handed. Instead, the man casually asked an absurd question.
Wallace's temperament was gentle by nature. Seeing that Logan spoke politely despite trespassing, he responded in kind. Yet as he stared at the indistinct figure flickering beneath torchlight, a heavy sense of unease suddenly clenched his chest.
"Oh? That's strange," Logan said thoughtfully.
"If you don't live here, how did you know I'd arrived? I checked beforehand—there aren't any surveillance devices inside or outside this cave."
"I heard that someone was asking around about the Cave of Origin," Wallace replied slowly.
"I became concerned and decided to come take a look."
"Hah. Your network in Sootopolis is impressive," Logan chuckled.
"I only asked around a bit, and you already knew. But I'm afraid I'm in a hurry—I don't have time to play games with you."
Logan slowly turned around.
Under the twisting firelight, Wallace couldn't clearly see his form. Yet an icy chill surged up his spine, as though he had fallen into an abyss of frost. At the same time, the shock snapped his mind into sharp focus.
"Not good!"
The instant the sense of danger arose, Logan issued a command:
"…Jolteon, Thunderbolt!"
Crackle—!!
Blinding electricity flooded the Cave of Origin in an instant. Fine arcs of lightning filled the air before converging into a violent bolt that tore straight toward Wallace.
"Clamperl, Iron Defense!"
At the critical moment, Wallace released Clamperl. Its shell snapped shut, turning as hard as steel. Jolteon's Thunderbolt slammed into it, exploding into countless stray sparks that scattered through the cavern, leaving the body tingling with numbness.
Being attacked without retaliating wasn't Wallace's style.
Enduring the lingering paralysis, he gritted his teeth.
"…An impressive electric attack. But choosing battle was your greatest mistake. Allow me to perform a magnificent aquatic illusion—Clamperl, Shell Smash, and then—"
Before Wallace could finish his command, a massive shadow swallowed him whole.
"Garchomp, Take Down!"
The shadow belonged to Garchomp's enormous body, which nearly filled the entire cavern. With a savage roar, it slammed into Clamperl.
Wallace and his Pokémon let out muffled cries of pain as they were hurled over ten meters away, crashing into the rock wall before finally stopping. His entire body screamed in agony.
The cave ceiling trembled from the impact, fine debris raining down like sand. Fortunately, the Cave of Origin's structure was sound—there was no risk of collapse.
"You coordinators really can't help yourselves, can you?" Logan sneered.
"Do you have to recite an entire speech before every attack?"
In Pokémon Contests, Coordinators often deliver poetic monologues before commanding their Pokémon. For elite Coordinators, this artistry borders on literature—skills woven into battle itself.
In Contests, power matters less than beauty. Every move is designed to be elegant and dazzling. Even Clamperl's Iron Defense earlier had been executed with flawless aesthetic grace.
But Logan had no interest in such things.
He pursued combat that was simple, ruthless, and efficient. All that ornate beauty was meaningless to him.
"If your opponent is weaker than you," Logan continued coldly,
"then yes—your battles are breathtaking. Surrounded by rainbow light and poetic verses, you dance your enemy into defeat. Truly dazzling."
"But when your opponent is your equal—or stronger—this style of yours is nothing but hollow glamour. All surface, no substance."
Logan walked forward slowly, stopping beside Garchomp as he stared down at Wallace struggling against the wall.
"…Or is this flamboyant fighting style just to attract girls? If so, that's truly unfortunate. Acting like that won't get you a girlfriend. Women hate men like you—too flashy, too unreliable."
Logan, utterly lacking self-awareness about his own romantic chaos, delivered the taunt mercilessly.
"Shut up!" Wallace snapped, his face flushing crimson.
He stared at Logan in disbelief—especially at the champion's cloak draped over his shoulders.
"I heard you're involved with the Fortree City Gym Leader," Logan added casually.
"She's quite beautiful."
Too bad she's not my type, he added silently.
"This outfit… that's a Champion's cloak?" Wallace asked cautiously.
Champion cloaks varied by region; Wallace couldn't identify it at a glance.
"Oh? You recognized it?" Logan said, flicking his cloak aside with a grin.
"Then you should know who I am."
"Champion of Kanto…" Wallace said slowly, eyes locked onto him.
"Logan."
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