“Who… are you? Human? Pokémon? Weapon… what do those even mean?”

The vessel created by humankind was never meant to hold a monster’s mind. The technology humans boasted about so proudly was blind—utterly incapable of perceiving the subtle, veiled psychic ripples that emanated from the weapon they’d crafted.

And then, it happened.

As Mewtwo’s head shifted ever so slightly within its containment pillar, a sudden voice pierced Logan —no, Logan—consciousness.

It was a psychic voice, one that bypassed language, cutting into the deepest recesses of his mind without warning, without permission. There was no time to resist. No time to respond. Their minds linked with a surreal intensity—an experience that defied all rules of reality and reason. Logan’s body jerked in place, his face turning blank and distant. His black-and-white irises dimmed and flickered faintly with a pale violet hue. This was no optical illusion—this was the human body’s primal defense mechanism. When a mind is invaded at such a fundamental level, consciousness instinctively retreats, shutting down the upper layers of awareness, like a computer entering safe mode. He had gone still—not dead, not unconscious, but mentally silent.

But then, something strange stirred beneath his skin.

His left arm twitched. Muscles and flesh rippled as though something alive moved beneath. It slithered unnaturally, like waves dancing along his bones. In the same moment, Logan’s eyes regained focus. The dazed emptiness vanished, his mind roaring back into motion. The psychic link, however, remained unbroken—firmly tethered between his consciousness and the entity sealed inside the containment chamber.

“I feel… like you. Like? Yes… I like you? Who… who am I? Who are you? Am I human? Am I Pokémon? Or… am I a weapon?”

The voice echoed with eerie clarity inside his thoughts, still unsure of its own identity.

Logan’s gaze drifted to the massive, transparent containment tube—a technological sarcophagus resembling something out of myth more than science fiction. Within it floated Mewtwo: the artificial Pokémon created by Team Rocket. There could be no doubt now—this voice came from that being.

Yet… it wasn’t what he had expected.

He had imagined Mewtwo’s voice to be booming and cold, a deep masculine growl laced with malice. But what he heard was the opposite—an ethereal tone, fluid and clear, bordering on musical. It was a voice that carried both the compassion of a weeping sage and the detachment of a merciless machine. It wasn’t distinctly feminine, but it definitely leaned toward that direction. There was hesitation in its phrasing, especially when it used the word “like”, as though it struggled to interpret human emotion and vocabulary.

” Logan? Logan!”

From nearby, Professor Oak’s worried shout broke the trance.

He and Blaine had rushed to Logan’s side, both visibly rattled by the violet glimmer they’d just witnessed in his eyes. As Pokémon experts—Oak a global authority, and Blaine a powerful Gym Leader—they recognized the signs immediately.

It was psychic energy. Strong—far stronger than what even powerful natural-born Psychic Pokémon could emit casually.

And in this lab? Only one being could possibly be the source.

Mewtwo.

“Logan, listen to me!” Blaine urged, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Don’t link minds with it! Its mental waves will tear through your consciousness like a storm! You’ll lose yourself!”

Blaine, more than anyone, knew the scope of Mewtwo’s abilities. After all, he was one of the scientists who helped bring it into being. He had studied its mind, its cells, its power. He knew the warnings written in red ink across every data file. Human minds could not withstand direct exposure to Mewtwo’s consciousness.

“There’s no need to worry,” Logan said, his voice calm—almost soothing.

He turned to them and smiled faintly.

“I’m fine. I’m still me.”

The tension in the air seemed to lift ever so slightly.

Oak and Blaine exchanged a glance, still concerned but relieved to see that he wasn’t a slack-jawed husk or a puppet under psychic domination.

Still, this changed everything.

Mewtwo had made contact—and not with a machine, not with a scientist—but with Logan.

A being made in isolation, forged to be a weapon… had chosen to reach out to the one person in this facility who wasn’t trying to control it.

The question now wasn’t whether Logan could survive the connection.

The real question was:

Could he teach Mewtwo what it meant to be more than just a weapon—before it was too late?

Underneath his sunglasses, Blaine’s eyes flickered with astonishment. Mewtwo’s psychic power—though it had never been tested in actual combat—was terrifying enough just from the raw data observed by the instruments. Under normal circumstances, if a human were to be controlled by Mewtwo’s psychic force, they wouldn’t be able to break free at all.

But what was truly terrifying was the fact that the specially designed containment capsule didn’t seem to restrain Mewtwo’s psychic energy one bit. The possibility of this happening had been anticipated during the planning stages of Mewtwo’s creation, which was precisely why the containment vessel had been designed—to prevent its telekinesis from running rampant. And yet now, whether it was Blaine or the other experts in Team Rocket, it was clear they had all severely underestimated their own creation!

“I can feel that Mewtwo doesn’t harbor any hostility toward me. In fact, it’s more like a newborn child—confused and ignorant of the world,” Logan said, eyes shining as he turned to Blaine. “Tell me, Blaine… can Mewtwo learn?”

The moment Logan linked his mind with Mewtwo’s through psychic energy, not only did he not feel any pain or discomfort, it was quite the opposite. It was like a parched lake suddenly being filled with an abundance of cool water—it was intensely soothing. An innate sense of intimacy surged through him, stronger even than the bond between parent and child. It felt as though this connection had been etched into his very DNA.

And Mewtwo felt it too. That was why, out of all the humans in the research facility, it had chosen Logan for its first attempt at communication.

Logan’s eyes dropped to his left hand, which was still wrapped in bandages. There had been a faint stinging pain there earlier. He understood now—the source of that deep connection and intimacy came from here. His cells and Mew’s cells had fused to create Mewtwo. At the same time, Mewtwo’s cells had invaded his body. From what Professor Oak had said, those cells had even once entered his brain. Any normal human would’ve died long ago. No—the old Logan really had died. Only the consciousness and soul that now inhabited this body were different!

“Learn? You mean, like a human learns? Other Pokémon probably can’t, but Mewtwo absolutely can,”Blaine explained. “From the very beginning, Team Rocket wanted to implant it with a complete set of concepts in order to control it. Mewtwo’s brain functions more like a supercomputer—it can store an immense amount of knowledge. And yes, emotionally and consciously, it functions just like a human. Its emotional range doesn’t exceed the bounds of humanity.”

Blaine’s gaze fell upon Mewtwo as he spoke, his thick eyebrows lifting slightly. The project had reached near completion, but Mewtwo had already exceeded the control parameters laid out in the original plan. He hadn’t expected Mewtwo’s psychic power to be strong enough to bypass the containment field. This meant that even before Team Rocket could inject it with any conceptual programming, Mewtwo could already begin learning on its own—completely derailing the plan.

In fact, a Pokémon controlled by humans was inherently less dangerous—after all, humans could be reasoned or negotiated with. But if Mewtwo, such an overwhelmingly powerful Pokémon, were to lose all control, the resulting disaster might be far worse than anything it would do under Team Rocket’s command. The vast difference between species could lead to fatal misunderstandings between humans and Pokémon.

But if it was this boy…

Blaine had a bold idea. One that would take careful execution. Otherwise, it might only lead to deeper guilt.

“You heard him, didn’t you, Mewtwo? Or should I say, you’ve been hearing everything going on in this lab, haven’t you?”

“What I want to say is—my body contains a part of you. And your body contains a part of me. We are one. Inseparable. We are the same. You’ve just been born into this world, so everything must feel new and confusing. But I want you to try and understand what things like family mean… what friendship means… what it’s like to have people you care about, people who care about you.”

“Family… Friendship… Loved ones… Friends…”

Mewtwo’s voice echoed faintly in Logan’s mind. It sounded unsure, almost lost. But slowly, its will began to firm, its presence becoming clearer and more solid. And then, the sensation of their shared consciousness faded.

Mewtwo had withdrawn its psychic link.

At this point, Logan had no ambitions. No twisted desires. He held no malice toward Mewtwo, nor any intention of manipulating it. His instinct for survival—that primal, deeply human drive—was the only thing pushing him to act. He wanted, desperately, to paint Mewtwo’s blank-slate mind with his own colors. Survival was the most basic and powerful human instinct—a testament to humanity’s refusal to give up.

From the way Blaine and Professor Oak spoke—from the pain and guilt that laced their expressions—Logan could guess what kind of inhuman experiments this body had endured before his arrival. One glance at its frail, emaciated form told the story of a previous life full of torment.

The naïve hope he’d felt upon first arriving in this world had long since faded. Team Rocket was no comic-relief villain group—they had their own “twisted sense of justice,” sure, and fought for their goals with tenacity that sometimes even shone with a strange light. But if achieving those goals meant sacrificing his freedom and life, Logan wasn’t having any of it.

This wasn’t the kid-friendly anime world where a Thunderbolt wouldn’t even singe your clothes, or where trainers took hit after hit from Pokémon and walked away just fine. Looking back, it was laughable. If humans could really survive those kinds of attacks, what was the point of Pokémon in the first place? Might as well go into battle barehanded!

Logan didn’t want to die. Every fiber of his being screamed it.

And his instincts told him that Mewtwo… was his only hope for freedom, for survival.

The battles between Pokémon weren’t just fun and games anymore. They were deadly serious.

——————–

T/N:

Check out my Patreon

[email protected]/FictionalRealms784 – (Replace ‘@’ with ‘a’)

for 5 Advanced Chapters absolutely FREE—or unlock 35 Advanced Chapters

——————–

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep