Today, Arashi Kingdom…

  A cerulean trail snaked through the meanders of the royal palace, a labyrinthine and intricate network of pipes, probably used for draining water, although it couldn’t have said for sure. A quadrupedal creature with thick grayish fur and rather long ears advanced rapidly. Pricking up its ears and sharpening its eyesight spasmodically searching for something.

  It was none other than Neal, the guy who a few minutes earlier had been contacted by the infamous Morgan through den den mushi, though now he had taken on an entirely different guise. A guise that resulted from eating one of the mysterious devil fruits;objects that bestowed on one a myriad of powers and abilities. The fruit's ability ranged from generating or manipulating objects, such as one's own bones, to the ability to transform into animals or natural elements.

  Paramecia, Logia and Zoan. The one consumed by Neal definitely belonged to the third category, which bestowed the power to assume the hybrid or complete form of a specific animal, in this case a particular species belonging to the leporid class.

  Now, having received precise instructions from his captain, he was about to leave the building. At the same time he needed to gather together his comrades, who were still supporting the revolutionary army, so that he could reach their ship, the Horizon.inally able lift the anchor, having now accomplished what they had unleashed that ruckus for.

  Let's just hope that reckless one hasn't gotten into any more trouble. He thought, referring to Lysandra, who, no less than a few hours earlier, had rushed to the rescue of the Shinowians once she learned of their imprisonment.

  His concern was quite evident, most likely caused by the violent jolts that made the walls and floor of the building shake from time to time. The danger of ending up buried under the rubble was quite real, and Lysandra's continued eagerness to throw herself headlong into this kind of situation only made it worse.

  A smile began to form on his face, thinking that nothing could put his friend off her goal, especially if freedom was involved. He had seen this several times, as if the strong attachment to the very concept of freedom, was an echo of her own past.

  I'm convinced that Captain Morgan is doing his best to resolve this matter . All I have to do now is to find Yorek, Callaghan and Shay and get the hell out of here.

  He turned the corner and found himself facing some sort of opening in the ground, which seemed anything but natural. After carefully assessing the situation, he descended into it: It was a cramped, gloomy, suffocating place. A maze of even more intricate tunnels branched off in every direction.

  Some unprepared person might have gotten lost and turned around blindly, but not him. Not when for himself every second counted for far more than gold or jewelry. He closed his eyes, straining his ears for any sound, even the most imperceptible, they might pick up.

  Gotcha! Something he had managed to catch, a screeching of metals vibrating at each other, although it seemed rather muffled. He ran in that direction, nimbly stepping over some obstacles obstructing the passage, until he found himself before a heavily clad wall. There was no way around it, no other direction he could take except to retrace his steps. He was literally at a dead end.

  There must be something beyond this wall. Suddenly, he felt the floor open beneath it and with a quick jerk, he leapt backward, thus avoiding a trapdoor that led straight to sharp blades.

  Why would anyone build such a contraption if that place itself constituted a trap? But he didn't even have time to think about it, when a squeak of puffing old machinery echoed around l the chamber. Shortly thereafter a pendulum-shaped blade swung dangerously toward him.

  Are you kidding me? he asked himself as it came barreling toward his snout, hissing into the void. A lightning reflex, an instinctive glance, and the body moved of its own accord. The young pirate deftly dodged it, although he didn't have the luxury of singing victory, as it was charging back following the same trajectory back.

  I've got an idea . I just hope that trap isn't composed of sea stone or it could end badly for me. He dodged the blade again with a leap, bringing himself up just high enough for what he needed.

  In a flurry of ashy fur and flickering flashes of bluish sparks, Neal's body became more slender and longilinear, bipedal, with his lower limbs considerably more extended than his upper ones " And now... Sky Jump: Lepus . .." Like a shooting-star he swooped down on the blade with a mighty kick "Pedis !!!" and hurling it forcefully against the wall, which went to create a kind of fairly deep gap, almost as if it were an ambulacrum.

  Returning to his human form, the guy stepped into it, darting his ice-cold eyes as if to check for unpleasant surprises.

  A veil of dust and smoke invaded his nostrils, welcoming every inch of that long tunnel into its oppressive embrace. The metallic clangour he had heard earlier became more and more intense and less distant; inhuman screams began to echo around him like a macabre symphony.

  Neal caught a dim light that, although the distance prevented him from discerning details, it resembled a burning flame. He quickly picked up the gait, emerging in a large hall, with massive granite columns rising majestically upward the ceiling, which soared like the spires of a cathedral.

  Ornate chandeliers, blackened by soot and barely holding back crystalline tears, hung precariously from it, casting shadows on the devastation below. The crumbling walls, adorned with torn and nearly charred tapestries, exposed bricks that often plummeted below like meteor fragments.

  The stench of burnt wood and ashes replaced the aroma of patchouli and vanilla that once hovered over every surface in the room. Even the large carved oak table, the latter’s showpiece, lay in splinters. The chairs, once beaded with precious gems, had lost their former glory, twisted and deformed by the increasingly scorching temperature.

  A circle of flames had gripped the room in its hold, roaring like a beast driven by insatiable hunger and dancing like frenzied spirits, its orange tongues stretching toward the sky. The windows, once decorated with sumptuous velvet curtains, now shattered by the heat and chaos, let out thick plumes of smoke to escape into the night.

  However, a noteworthy scene drew Neal's eyes to the center of the room: two individuals were fighting fiercely shoulder to shoulder, backing through the corpses that piled up at their feet.

  The former was rather stout and imposing, with a stature that made the other warriors, even those of considerable stature, look tiny. Thick greenish mane-like hair fell over a long mantle of purplish skin, which he wore slung over his shoulders. The long and finely braided viride beard, which gave him the appearance of one of those warlike kings at the head of some kingdom in the distant North Blue, stretched down to his broad, bare chest, which was swathed only by a thin strip of celadon-colored cloth at the left end and which fit into a pair of shiny black pants and was sprinkled with numerous scars and strange symbols probably traceable to some ancient language. Between his large, sinewy fingers he clutched a long, sharp, crimson-bladed Guandao, which swiveled ominously.

  But, what seemed to strike terror in his figure more than anything else, were a pair of long white horns that sprouted on the sides of his head, making him resemble a demon straight out of the underworld.

  The other would have been considered even more gruesome than its colleague: It was tall and had broad shoulders, which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of brown fur. Its elongated face was a mix between a rat and a bat with pointed ears and two breathing holes. From its lips you could see a pronounced set of teeth with long canines. Its upper and lower limbs ended in three claws each, shining and razor-sharp. From the waist down it appeared to be wearing a pair of baggy black shorts.

  It belonged to a race of beings with animalistic traits feared and respected throughout the Five Blues, the 'Minks' .

  At the sight of yet another handful of soldiers coming from the north, the creature emitted a sharp screech, spreading its upper extremities, revealing a pair of impressive, leathery wings attached to the underside of its arms.

  But Neal also looked ready to fight. He could now be seen clearly: a slender young man, whose torso was covered by a white shirt and a bluish high-necked vest with gold piping, on the sleeves of which were tied two handkerchiefs of the same shade. His head, however, was entirely wrapped in a sort of sapphire-colored bandana, although some medium-length blonde locks protruded from it, including thicker ones that fell halfway down his face, and around it there seemed to be a necklace of pink pearls.

  Although he had done his best to be discreet, that little trick earlier had ended up achieving exactly the opposite effect. And now, in less than no time, about twenty swords were pointed at him, precluding any chance of escape.

  “I certainly didn't expect such a warm welcoming committee, guys.," Neal smiled, resting both hands covered by perforated mittens on his blue trousers, which were tucked into rather worn brown boots, and drawing out a pair of rather sharp blades. They shone with a truly unnatural light, red and blue respectively.

  He raised them to hip level, where a pair of cyan bands were tied. “Let's see if your spirit matches it too.” They were 'Fury ' and ' Frenzy' , both known as the 'Blades of Eternal Damnation'

  “Come forward, you pathetic runts!” From the other side of the room, the horned barbarian advanced, snarling like a mad dog and making his mighty voice ring across the room as he menacingly swung the spear he held so tightly to him. “And face the fury of one they call 'Bonebreaker'. ”

  Meanwhile, the chiropteran-like creature let out another of those piercing calls, spreading its wings in a disturbing display, “Do you have the courage and the effrontery to cross the path of a Mink, and above all, mine, Callaghan's?” It hissed that question with an almost unnatural quality, so much so that it made those shudder before the presence of it.

  The soldiers hesitated for a moment, clearly intimidated by the fearsome pair that stood between them. One of them, a man with crimson armor that shone in the light of the flames that continued to engulf portions of the walls and earth, had the courage to take a step forward, unsheathing a longsword.

  "Keep your position, men! And don't give in to fear in the slightest. We have faced situations like this before and always emerged victorious. These monsters are formidable opponents, that's a given, but certainly not without any weakness."

  “But sir,” protested one of them, who seemed more frail than his own companions, “Those two are members of the 'Devil's Pirates', a crew that in this period has done nothing but spread terror across the seas. They even had the guts to openly challenge the World Government."

  “They’re bloodthirsty beasts, I tell you. There's no joke with them, we better retreat," added another, a woman wearing a lighter red uniform and wielding a long ranseur with a wrought-iron handle that looked like an eagle.

  “Listen up” whispered a third soldier, slowly approaching, “These two are known to be particularly ruthless, even more than the man who commands them, 'The Devil of the Seas' ” As soon as he had said that name, his voice began to tremble and his face became pale as a rag, as if he had been struck by an invisible illness “...Challenging them so openly could cost us dearly...We should reconsider our approach...captain”

  "Well?" asked the man again, raising an eyebrow and the tone of his voice so that his entire garrison could hear him, "Are you suggesting that we should yield to cowardice? To the superiority of the enemy? Never!" He raised his sword upward. "We have been personally chosen by the ruler to defend this kingdom from the barbarities of the outside world, to protect the innocent lives that inhabit it. If we allow ourselves to falter before danger, who will fulfill this task? We should be proud warriors, the elite chosen from so many valiant men-at-arms." He gave a quick glance at his men. "But today, I do not see this. Today, I see only a bunch of weak and pathetic idiots, backing down in the face of what has undermined the stability of the kingdom with their tails between their legs."

  No one dared to react, as if they had been caught in the act by those words stinging like dagger blades driven into the flesh.

  Only someone seemed to sneer, the same creature that instilled so much fear in their hearts, the bat-like mink.

  "If you were wise, you would listen to your men and renounce your warlike intentions," it said with an almost disconcerting calm as its face distorted into a rather sinister smirk, "We aren't sadistic beasts devoid of intellect and honor. Nor do we want further bloodshed. So throw down your weapons and perhaps we can show you mercy."

  With a simple wave of his hand, the man intimated his comrades not to back down to those words. "Do you think we would easily give in to such vile blackmail?" he then asked, taking a further step forward. "Especially if it comes from a foul being like you."

  "And here I thought this kingdom was founded on upright and virtuous principles," retorted the Mink "But I see that bigotry also seems to be an integral part of its society. So, is that your final answer?" It asked him with a certain note of disappointment.

  The other nodded in assent, stretching his blade ahead of him and starting to run toward the creature, letting out a battle cry, and in the same split second, the soldiers resumed their assault, hurling themselves like a shower of arrows.

  It cast a glance at its comrade "Are you ready, Yorek?" receiving a nod in response, then returned to scrutinizing the enemy with a resolute air, as a strange, almost electric glow began to crackle in its amber-colored irises. "And so you chose...DEATH!"

  With a rapid burst, it launched itself toward them as a chaotic dance of lightning and sparks seemed to envelop it, running over every inch of its body, and especially its wings and the back of its spine " Zap and Dash! "

  Nothing the soldiers could do as they were swept away by an electric fury that made imperceptible erratic movements, including the man who had so impudently challenged it and whose face contorted in rage before his sight faded into oblivion.

  In sync, the brute it called Yorek began to whirl his wielded weapon in a whirlwind of bloody fury. "You poor fools, you had better accept its offer. Your dullness has decreed your end. MAKAI ! " he shouted before hurling it with violence to the ground.

  Telluric tremors pervaded the battlefield, until the cracks began to fork, surrounding the handful of soldiers charging toward the big man from the east and creating a chasm beneath their feet that engulfed them as if it were a wrathful predator.

  On the opposite side, a dense troop of infantrymen towered over Neal. What a useless waste of time he said to himself, assuming the hybrid form and observing them, motionless and posed.

  "Come on, men," thundered one of those soldiers, "Let's take down this abomination!"

  His lips parted in a smile, although it looked rather bitter. An abomination? Do you think I haven't heard worse ones? Pathetic.

  "Neal Cassidy, you won't escape your fate."

  "Fate?" he asked shortly after, "Oh, I never believed in such nonsense." He stretched his right leg backward, slightly bending his left knee and bending his back forward. "But if you insist on letting fate come toward me..." He regulated his breathing, raising both swords to the height of his face and anteed them toward the soldiers, bent sideways and parallel to each other "...Then let it dance to the rhythm of my blades!"

  He sprang a leap toward them, " Disruptive Comet Style: Comet Wave!"

  A great slash erupted from his blades, heading to them as if it were a flooding river, tearing through the air itself with a deafening roar. A groan of agony emerged from their throats as they tumbled to the bare stone and their swords and spears hammered the floor in a dissonant cacophony.

  He had gotten the better of his enemies, and as much as he didn’t like to admit it, his comrades had been at least as quick as he was. A myriad of corpses crowded the room that was once filled with laughter and all kinds of celebration but now gave way to a dead silence.

  He returned to his usual form, going to meet the duo, who, having eyeballed him, were about to do the same.

  Although he wasn't the type, he had to admit that the size of those two intimidated him, since they towered over him almost making him resemble a common child: Callaghan was quietly close to 10 feet and this seemed to be partly due to its slender and lean physique, however, the real goliath of the situation was none other than Yorek, since according to Neal himself, he even reached 20 feet.

  A case that wasn't entirely abnormal, as the Five Blues was packed with people of all different shapes, races and sizes, but to be confronted by such a big man was no small feet, no matter how much he didn't belong to the race of giants, as they were at least twice the size.

  "Cheers to you, brat," exclaimed the Mink as it widened its smile, showing even more of its long canines, "You don't miss an opportunity to strut your stuff, do you?"

  The young man reciprocated with a resolute expression, “Not to do so would have been disgraceful, don’t you think?”

  The creature snapped its tongue between its teeth, “Talking to a fop like you is always a hoot.”

  "I must say we were no less than that either." Yorek looked around and burst into thunderous laughter. "Of course, crushing gnats is never fully satisfying. It’s time to crack some other skulls," he slammed a fist into his palm.

  "Shut up, you idiot ogre," Callaghan retorted. "Banter alluding to own epithet I consider to be a very reprehensible conduct." With a bored air, it laid its gaze on the claws, dipped in the blood of slaughtered soldiers "No wonder you and the captain get along so well, despite the fact that you were once sworn enemies and both worked for the World Government, albeit with completely different institutions from each other."

  “You mean when he was famous by another name, right?” asked Neal, squinting.

  Callaghan clicked its tongue again, letting out a dry chuckle “Famous? Try infamous. This deranged lunatic was part of the dreaded S—”

  "That's enough!" interrupted Yorek visibly irritated, which made an amused smirk dart across the Mink's muzzle. "Now you're talking about a lifetime ago and the world has changed since then." He shook his head. "And then you of all people would like to lecture me," he pointed with his index finger at his fellow chiroptera, who was squaring him with a frown. "After all, we've all had our disagreements with the World Government. The hatred of what they did to us.That's what binds this crew of misfits together."

  "To be honest, no," Callaghan admitted, "I understand that your race isn’t exactly renowned for having above-average intelligence, but from here to clueless waffling there is a pretty clear line," it pointed out, indicating the curved growths placed on either side of its friend's head.

  "What do you have to say about my tribe?" asked Yorek, cracking his knuckles, as if he wanted to intimidate it or was on the verge of losing his patience and wanted to make it swallow those words with his fists.

  In observing that skit, a smirk appeared on Neal's face, even though the context was anything but funny and their time was running out.

  "Oh, I would have many things to say," replied the other nonchalantly, "But this isn't the time or the place." It looked around again, dwelling on the flames that were growing larger by the minute, sucking up everything in their path and threatening to collapse everything. "Besides, of those who are part of our crew ' of misfits ' as you call them, very few have had the pleasure to pick a quarrel with the World Government and the Marine. Yet, our very existence and the feat we are attempting to accomplish, gives them all the reason they need to wipe us out. But nevertheless, you know full well that the bond that unites us is much more than what you have just stated."

  The others watched in astonishment, knowing full well what he was alluding to. The World Government relentlessly hounded anyone who dared to take sides against it or pose a threat to their authority, no less their crew, who had delved into knowledge that was strictly forbidden.

  Besides, with a captain like theirs and the crimes he was guilty of, things couldn't have been any different.

  "But why are you here?" Neal asked. "Wasn't your job to assist Revolutionary Army officer Xun in holding back Vladius and his garrison?"

  "Long story," Callaghan exchanged a glance of understanding with Yorek. "But let's cut the small talk", it resumed, "What I'm concerned about at the moment is getting out of this hell-trap with the artifact for which these men fought and lost their lives today." It turned its gaze for a moment to the corpses of the soldiers strewn on the ground like fallen leaves, who, until a few minutes ago, had foolishly rejected what for all intents and purposes seemed a reasonable proposal and had met an unpleasant fate, becoming collateral casualties “A debt paid with their own blood, which one day we too will have to settle”

  Yorek huffed, crossing his arms “Now don't start with your usual macabre thoughts.”

  "So, carrot-eater," Callaghan ignored the mate's words, returned to squaring the guy, "Have you found the Poneglyph and more importantly what should be our next move? " Neal gave a decisive nod. "Excellent. So, it would be best to contact the captain and discuss what to do."

  ”I actually heard from Captain Morgan not less than a few minutes ago,“ Neal informed it " He was about to retrieve the treasure. Probably waiting for us on the Horizon's deck.”

  "Where do the tremors come from?" Yorek wondered, scratching his head.

  “Doesn't matter,” Callaghan replied quickly. “Finally some good news. Did anyone inform the first mate of this?”

  "Don’t think so"

  “So what are you waiting for? A formal invitation?” the Mink chided him. “Be quick, so we can be done with it.”

  Neal didn't have to be told twice and put his hand to the pitch-colored snail transponder, until on the third ring, someone answered him. He heard an authoritative voice.

  “I’m Neal, reporting in!” said immediately after the young man, passing a hand over his bandana.

  "Speak, Cassidy" They heard gunshots, screams, and explosions. Neal supposed that the man was still in the thick of the action and hadn't found shelter yet.

  “Shay, I completed my assignment and was reunited with Callaghan and Yorek. We are now headed for the ship. What is your situation?”

  Other noises spread into the room through the device, including a sort of boom that sounded very much like thunder. "Shay?"

  “I apologize, a minor setback,” he justified himself after a few seconds. “As for the Captain and Yoi, what is their current position?”

  "Unknown," Neal explained. "They could be waiting for us near the Horizon or they could still be in the throne room. However, something isn't quite right." He lifted his head as looking at the other two members of the crew.

  “Alright," Shay sighed, "I'll take care of the matter. As soon as I'm done with them," Another boom exploded and rang out for a long time, even through the walls. “What about Lysandra?”

  “It's rather complicated,” stated the young man, “But I informed the captain right away of this. He’s likely already handled it."

  “I hope you're right,” replied the other without too much conviction. “Now, go. Over and out." concluded the man.

  After he had placed the den den mushi in his pocket, he met the gaze of his two companions, who were watching him as if they were trying to detect any signs of him watering down the truth.

  “So,” Callaghan prodded him, as it tapped its fingers nervously on its folded arms, “Why don't you do us the favor of enlightening us as to Miss Read's true fate?”

  Neal became even more serious. "Well," he began "Less than a few hours ago, Lys, after learning from after learning from the guards that two Shinowian prisoners were still in the castle, went back and rush to the rescue”

  “That girl is reckless,” Yorek said, frowning, although he fully understood her reasons.

  After all, who better than him or Callaghan could understand what those who were different felt, given all the oppression, prejudice and discrimination with which they themselves had grown up and lived for most of their lives.

  "She's playing with fire, and if she continues at this rate she's going to get herself killed," Callaghan added worriedly. "And she seems to like it a little bit," it shook its head. "However, If I were her, given her past, I’d probably do the same."

  Yorek hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “Is there anyone among us who hasn't had a tragic past?”

  "No," Callaghan admitted, turning around and watching the flames writhe and tussle like a pack of quarrelsome dogs, almost as if enraptured by the spectacle "Each of us carries our own burdens, has faced our own demons engaged in different battles. Each of us proudly sports our scars, even those that others cannot see. Our shared experiences have helped forge a bond far more solid and enduring than steel."

  Neal found himself impressed by Callaghan’s words. However, he knew they all shared that belief in their own way. They faced a thousand dangers before arriving in the kingdom of Arashi, although he believed that this was only the beginning.

  "How sappy you are," muttered Yorek in disgust.

  "Yeah," nodded the other, "I barely recognize myself. But we've got much bigger problems now." Chunks of rock broke off from the vault to their right, falling to the ground with a roar "We've got to get the hell out of here immediately. Now!"

  “Hey, hey...are you leaving so soon? Come on, that's no way to treat a star!”

  Those words resounded in the scorching air like a thundering drum roll, which attracted the attention of the three, who looked around with the intent to glean about who had just uttered them.

  “Who are you? Show yourself!” shouted Callaghan toward where the voice seemed to be coming from. It heard a noise behind it, and turned sharply, instinctively moving to the right. An arc-shaped shockwave crashed against the wall, leaving a large crack on its surface right where the chiroptera had just been standing.

  “What was that attack?” wondered Yorek instead, clutching his weapon, closely followed by Neal, who put his hand to his belt, ready to unsheathe both of his blades.

  A laugh echoed for a long time and a figure emerged from the flames. Two hirsute, stocky paws marked time in the footsteps that echoed on the unmade floor, with black pants that wrapped powerful legs and crimson hair, especially on the head and sides of the grayish muzzle, that swayed with every movement. It advanced erect, though one couldn't fail to notice the animalistic features that emerged from its appearance, until Neal realized that what they had before them belonged to the same race as Callaghan, although the fellow looked like a large ape with zebra stripes over much of its abdomen.

  “Looks like the party's already started and I'm just late,” that individual said, shifting its gaze concealed by sunglasses from one side of the room to the other. “You guys really know how to make a mess, huh? I mean, damn, this place is more trashed than a mosh pit at a thrash metal concert.”

  “Who the hell is this guy?” blurted out Callaghan, with Neal beckoning, pointing to the large white coat that mink wore over its broad shoulders, particularly the symbol placed right between the back and the thick fur collar, which the three recognized as the emblem of the World Government. “Ah, the Cipher Pol 0,” It then stated contritely, ”That's all we need.”

  The individual's gaze continued to roam the room, lingering on the bodies of the defeated or the rubble being engulfed by fiery jaws, smiling as if this provoked some hilarity in it. “Blood, corpses, broken dreams. It's all so punk. But you know what's still missing?” It lifted its hand adorned with a golden metal bracelet until it formed a horn-like mark with its index and pinky fingers “A fucking encore.”

  “Come on, guys,” Callaghan then resumed, calling out to its comrades, “Let's leave this lunatic to its delusions. We're not here to pick fights with government lap dogs, and I certainly don't intend to stay in this place another second longer.”

  Neal nodded, closing his eyes to examine his surroundings and having a small gasp as soon as he spotted an opening that would allow them to slip away, which he quickly prepared to communicate to his companion.

  They both took a few steps, although Callaghan, once it turned his head, saw that Yorek hadn't moved, rather, with his glaive resting on his shoulder, he stared at the approaching government agent as if he intended to confront it.

  “You're kidding, right?” blurted out the chiroptera, casting a glance of lightning at the big man ”You couldn't be more stupid than that.”

  Yorek tilted his head slightly “You, on the other hand, would like to say that we should run away like helpless little mice? When what I want is within my grasp?”

  “Are you explicitly admitting that what you seek is death?” Callaghan asked chagrined, ”Come on, Cassidy, at least you, try to talk some sense into this imbecile.”

  Neal breathed out sharply, "And do you really think he would listen to me? You know how he is; once he gets something in his head, he becomes as stubborn as the Captain, so I would just be wasting my breath. But I fear he is right about one thing," he quickly unsheathed both swords. "We must defeat this lackey. We can't afford to let it roam freely in the castle. And what if it warns someone, or worse, if it isn’t alone?"

  Callaghan clicked its tongue, “Poor me. I'm surrounded by a bunch of idiots.”

  The ogre's sharp teeth flashed in a smile “Come on, Callaghan, don't tell me you're afraid.”

  “I'm not afraid, you stupid brute” The mink frowned ”Unlike you, I know when it is or isn't worth wasting my time. And fighting this ape isn't worth it.”

  But Yorek would not listen to him. His shoulders were shaking slightly and one could sense barely contained excitement radiating from his body “I'm Yorek Goliathson, a proud member of the Oni race and more than anything else I'm a warrior. Abandoning a battle is about as dishonorable as it gets” He rotated his weapon with a firm motion of his wrist, striking the ground with the lower part of the shaft ”Besides, I just want to see how tough this guy really is”

  Callaghan sighed, running a paw over its muzzle “Gods, you guys are such dickheads” It cracked its neck, also preparing to go to battle “Fine. We don't have time for an actual fight, but if a couple of broken bones is what it takes to get your flabby backside moving, I'm game.”

  Neal smiled as his eyes focused on the cipher pol officer, who had bridged the distance between them. Now, a few feet away, the ape mink had stopped, shoving its hands into its pants pockets. Its sunglasses gleamed in the firelight as it cast a slow, deliberate glance at each of them.

  Then it smiled “Well, well. I was sure I recognized you guys” Pointed its index finger at Callaghan ‘ Bloodsucker’ then at Yorek ‘ Bonebreaker ’ and finally at Neal ‘Quickfoot’

  The Chiroptera clicked its tongue, “So what? Your masters know exactly who we are, so there's no need to stand in ceremony. I, on the other hand, would like to know who I have the pleasure of talking to, you know, I keep track of all noteworthy victims whose lives I take,“ It pointed with its clawed thumb at the soldiers behind it “And unfortunately they weren't.”

  The ape mink let out a short laugh, “Very interesting. You're a real rebel yourself, huh? Very punk as a thing. My name is Dai-Wen and I'm an agent of the dreaded Cp0. And you, on the other hand, are a bunch of noisy posers trying to burn down the stage.”

  “What the hell It saying,” Callaghan retorted, “Do you understand any of this, Neal?” The one shook his head, confirming what the fellow mink said.

  “What does it matter,” Yorek burst out, beating the staff to the ground, “Let's hit it.”

  The Ape Mink laughed again “That's right, if you want to get out of this pogo alive, you will have to turn up the decibels and shredding. Ah, for you mere mortals, that means you will have to face me,” it explained, noticing their confused faces.

  “That's what I wanted to hear,” stated Yorek with a grin, tending ahead of him to the Guandao ”Let's hurt it.”

  Neal swung both swords “A true warrior catches the coming storm and doesn't retreat even before the ominous howl of the wind. If you think you are unbeatable, be my guest, let your conviction waver against my blades.”

  At those words, Callaghan sighed again, but spread its wings, so as to also prepare itself for the confrontation that was soon to come “Damn it. And all right then, let's put an end to this charade.”

  Small discharges began to flow and illuminate the agent's limber body, as the smile widened even more “Very good, I love the vibes coming from you three” the current intensified, particularly in the area of the upper limbs “Bring it on, then. Let's make some noise.”

  ***

  In the eastern part of the castle, a somber noise from the end of the corridor echoed along the stone walls like the beating of a drum. A thrum of footsteps grew closer and closer, until out of that gloomy darkness came two figures running like madmen as if a horde of monstrous creatures were at their heels.

  One of them was panting as if she were a beast of burden unaccustomed to bearing heavy loads. Her almost angelic, bronze face beaded with sweat and long, wild, fiery red hair glued to her temples and forehead, her robes ragged and filthy enough to resemble a sack of potatoes. However, it wasn't her face that gave her the appearance of a sublime creature, but rather the long swan-like wings, white, gleaming like polished pearls, which she wore folded on her back like two floppy flags for the lack of wind.

  The other, much taller and slimmer, seemed completely at ease, as if that was just a healthy walk. She wore dark robes whose cloth seemed quite fine, able to skillfully blend with the darkness and a hood was lowered on her head, though a pair of long black and gold locks sprouted from it. From her belt hung daggers whose silver blades glittered like moonbeams, including one with an even more unusual shape, at the end of which seemed to be a thin but thick rope, which was coiled at her side. A medium-length, straight-bladed sword was placed in a scabbard across her back.

  However, what seemed to be on their trail weren't mere living beings so much as the structure itself, which seemed as if it had awakened from a millennia-old dream. The walls groaned and cracks as thin as cobweb threads formed in the ancient stones, as if the very foundation of the castle were rebelling against the passage of time. Dust rained down like hail from the ceiling, and violent tremors spread throughout the surrounding area, as if it had been shaken by an unseen force and now sought to crush those who dared to intrude.

  "We should hurry, Miss Read," murmured the winged girl with an edge in her voice "Everything is falling apart."

  "I can see that" replied the other, maintaining a calm and composed attitude, scrutinizing her with those catlike golden irises that momentarily left her breathless "But no Miss, call me by my name. "I hate formalities. Call me by my name—we're equals." Along with those black clothes, she also wore an indecipherable expression.

  "I've been a slave all my life," the redhead retorted in a flat voice, "I'm used to treating others with reverence."

  Lysandra’s cold, resolute air was quickly replaced by a grim look as she glowered as the shinowian girl "Don't you dare ever utter such a sentence in my presence again," she hissed between her teeth. "And now listen to me carefully, because I'm not going to repeat it," her tone sounded even more menacing and determined. "No one is born a slave. We come into the world completely free; our very breath is the claim to such a right. To this day these words of mine might seem like a utopia, a dream so far away that we cannot even discern its outlines. But I will fight to the bitter end to make it a vivid reality. Is that clear?” The girl simply nodded

  They continued at a brisk pace, while around them the chaos seemed to increase, gurgling as if it were the belly of a beast craving for exquisite game. Not for a moment did her thoughts yield to apprehension about the fate of her companions. No, what mattered to her at that moment was the goal she had set for herself, and nothing would divert her from that.

  "Stop!"

  From the north came a crammed troop of soldiers who arranged themselves to form a barrier and block their way. They wore dark leather armor and steel studs and large helmets covered their faces. They were armed with spears and swords, although Lysandra glimpsed one wielding a menacing iron club.

  "In the name of the king, stop immediately!" barked one of the warriors.

  “These guys never learn—not even in a situation like this” Lysandra stated in a bored manner first observing the soldiers and then around her.

  "Oh no!" exclaimed the angelic girl, stopping short "What do we do now?" From her expression she looked rather terrified, probably about the idea that if they captured her again, she would certainly receive far worse treatment than those two soldiers murdered by Lysandra had given her.

  "He ordered you to stop. What, can't you hear us?" growled a second soldier, tapping the weapon he was holding on the floor.

  "Uh...Lysandra?" called the other one backing away, but with a quick snap, the first one had interposed herself between her and the soldiers and with her right hand, enjoined her to stand still and maintain her position.

  "Stay here," she had again given her that cold stare, capable of projecting anyone who encountered it into the harshest climate "It's safer for you and will keep you out of unnecessary danger."

  "What about you?" she asked her.

  She continued to stare at her with that impassive expression for a long moment, then turned back to the troop, putting her hand on her belt "I just want to have a chat with them" she drew three elaborate snake-like daggers, the blades of which seemed to be made of jade "I won't be long"

  "Wait!" the girl shouted after her, but to no avail. Lysandra

  Read had already moved forward in the direction of the soldiers and with a simple flick of her wrist, hurled the daggers toward the latter, cleaving the air with a ghostly whisper and sticking them precisely into the chests of the men, who slumped to the ground without even opening their mouths.

  The others stood dumbfounded, motionless without even realizing what just happened, staring at each other with wide eyes. And Miss Read needed no more.

  Slashing toward the group, she used a boulder that had just tumbled from the ceiling as if it were a trampoline, gaining momentum and taking a spectacular leap into the air. The soldiers, still trying to recover from the shock of seeing their comrades succumb in an instant, were again caught in a wave of astonishment at the woman's performance.

  As she swooped down like a bird of prey on an unsuspecting victim, she drew her sword in midair, a jian of deep black and smoky gray, adorned with golden inlays. The unmistakable steel trill resounded throughout the corridor, ripping through the darkness, sinking into the man's chest once it landed, all the way into the flesh.

  Nephele stared at the scene with disbelieving eyes, unmoving. Her gaze darted to the hooded figure moving with such fluidity that it seemed like a dance. One by one, the warriors fell under her blows, a combination of swift slashes and elegant, graceful parries.

  The soldiers, disoriented and overwhelmed, tried to regroup, but Lysandra was a force of nature. She moved from one to another, piercing them with attacks as precise and deadly as the bites of a snake. The same animal, a long colubrid with shiny, pitch-black scales, into which she had just morphed to avoid the spear that one of the warriors had hurled at her, clinging to the shaft like a vine and using it to then pounce on the hapless man, planting her sharp fangs in his neck, and with venom gushing out like water, that one wouldn't stay alive much longer.

  As even the last of the men reached the cold land of the dead, a tomblike silence fell in the hallway, broken only by the increasing tremors. Lysandra settled gracefully, holstering the weapon with which she had dispensed her judgment.

  "Nephele," the woman addressed the shinowian. In response, the latter had raised her head, staring at her with wide eyes, as she still couldn't wrap her mind around what she had just witnessed.

  "Come," she continued, assuming her usual impassive and detached attitude, motioning the other to follow, "We don't have much time, and as you have ascertained for yourself, fate may have other surprises in store for us."

  “But you…Who are you?” asked the girl, almost stammering, rising awkwardly from the floor. She cast one last glance at the bodies lying on the floor, bodies that had been overwhelmed by unparalleled fury.

  “Trust me, you don't want to know,” Lysandra merely replied, almost as if her enigmatic figure was not already shrouded in the thickest mystery-or at least that was what the Shinowian found herself thinking before resuming her path.

  ***

  “Tobu Shigan: Senshin! “

  “Tobu Shigan: Ushitama!”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Inside the throne room the situation had become rather heated: the infamous Captain Morgan, known as 'The Devil of the Seas' and Ramesh Devaki, an agent of the deadly Cp0, one of the strongest and most dangerous intelligence agencies operating under the direct control of the World Nobles. They had already been clashing for a few minutes, putting into play every technique acquired during their training, without being able to prevail over each other.

  Outside, the situation certainly wasn’t the best : the battle raged almost like the violent storm that had engulfed the Arashi kingdom, the clang of metal against metal had the same roar as thunder, like those piercing the sky like swords . The revolutionaries, assisted by Morgan's crew, had now laid waste to Arashi and were now preparing to get rid of the last pockets of resistance of the royal army.

  Their goal was clear: overthrow the monarchical regime and restore to the submissive subjects the long-awaited freedom, which everyone had their right to enjoy. For those known as 'The Devil's Pirates', however, it was to hold out as long as possible, waiting for Morgan to find what they had come here for and break away as quickly as they could.

  But this turned out to be a difficult task, Devaki wasn't naive and Morgan knew this better than anyone, given their past episodes: clashes in which he had snatched victory with his teeth and which had left him with indelible memories.

  Something else had come into play now–something that would change the fate of the world forever–a goal that the young pirate intended to accomplish at the cost of his own life, which is why he couldn't afford to make any misstep.

  “You've improved a lot since our last meeting, I'll give you that,” stated Morgan, with the clear aim of teasing the Cipher Pol agent. In response, Devaki’s anger flared even more ”But that won't be enough to stop me. My crew will get what we came for, so step aside or I will send you to the deepest, darkest depths of hell."

  "Never!" exclaimed the other “A scoundrel like you doesn't even deserve to continue living. Until now your conduct, although brutal and unspeakable, was considered a whim, but now you have crossed the line. The Government will no longer tolerate further insolence!"

  He launched himself at him, " Soru ..." and then disappeared from sight. But Morgan had already anticipated his move. In fact, once the other appeared before him, ready to throw a punch ".. .Kokoken! ", Morgan managed to nip this initiative of his in the bud, blocking him with a kick stiffened by the technique called, Tekkai: Klotz

  The Sea Devil smiled, something akin to a mixture of mockery and determination "Do you think the words of a puppet can have any effect? You poor, delusional man. Let me show you something effective, Rankyaku: Pachinko" Waving his right leg with extreme speed, he generated a kind of air blade that although directed at Devaki, left visible gashes on the ground, but the latter managed to avoid it with great skill by using Kami-e : Resami Pravaha to turn his body as flexible and light as paper. He weaved through the air blades, his movements almost hypnotic as they sliced through the air on either side of him.

  The techniques used by the two contenders, including this one, were known as Rokushiki, or the Six Powers. They were developed by the World Government to turn its agents into powerful weapons capable of completing missions quickly and with minimal casualties.

  "You lackeys of the World Government have the false belief that can predict and control everything," continued Morgan using the technique Tekkai : Rustang to deliver a blow also enhanced by Armament Haki, which, was easily neutralized by the Cp0 agent, who countered with his own leg, also coated with same type of Haki."A storm of immense magnitude is looming on the horizon, dear my little soldier and I will in no way allow the Celestial Dragons to continue their tyrannical grip on the populace. I have a score to settle with those fraudulent fucking idols and it is something far greater than you or me"

  Morgan lunged forward, catching his opponent off guard with a sudden strike to the chest, sending him tumbling backward on the floor. Ramesh was up again in no time, shaking off the dust with a gesture, as if nothing had happened,

  "Your tenacity is admirable," he commented with a smirk "You have sacrificed quite a lot along the way to prove the veracity of these hypotheses of yours, although they are totally unfounded. And yet, you have made a huge mistake."

  "And what would that be, pray tell?" asked Morgan, frowning.

  "You have dragged your crew into a conflict you cannot possibly win, and if by your misfortune, they should lose their lives, your conscience would live with the remorse of that until the end of your days."

  "You filthy bastard!" he growled. "I would do anything to preserve the lives of my crew, even sacrifice my own existence, but not before eliminating whatever obstacles stand in our way. I look forward to chopping off your tongue and making you swallow it. Tobu Shigan: Uchiwa!" A horizontal, compressed air blade erupted from his hand.

  "You will die trying," retorted the agent of cipher pol , kicking the air with both legs, " Rankyaku: Sho!"

  Both aerial slashes joined as if forming an X, colliding with the shockwave created by Morgan and annihilating each other with a deafening roar.

  "My knowledge of the Six Powers far exceeds yours" Devaki declared "Surrender and perhaps I may grant you a quick death.”

  "Is this a fight or an exchange of courtesies?" the pirate said sarcastically and almost with a bored air. "I was convinced that government thugs were trained to quickly eliminate those deemed as threats. So why are you still prevaricating?"

  "Would you like a real demonstration of my strength?" asked the other defiantly"You will pay dearly for your impudence. You have underestimated the power of the World Government for the last time, Morgan!"

  His body began to change rapidly: His size tripled and his muscles swelled as a thin layer of fur erupted from his skin, covering him with an elegant obsidian cloak. What was once human gave way to a feline muzzle with his hands intertwined into razor-sharp claws, as did the lower limbs, and a long, tapering tail hissed behind it. His irises now glowed a luminescent yellow. A guttural cry escaped from his mouth, exposing saber-like fangs.

  “Not so tough now, are you?” he remarked immediately afterward.

  "If you think you're going to impress me by showing off your hybrid form, you're sadly mistaken," replied Morgan cockily

  "Your little revolution ends here and now," the other growled before leaping high into the air. "I will destroy any hope you have of subverting the status quo, and I will do it in the name of true justice. Rankyaku: Chishitaka!"

  From his hind leg, he unleashed a strike sharper than any blade that took the form of a winged beast as it shot toward its target.

  "You don't seriously think you're going to stop me, right?" Morgan put his hand to his own sword " Ittoryu: Sai Mikazuki" With a swift movement he drew his weapon, thwarting the offensive with a curved lunge that looked like a half-moon.

  "Not bad," Devaki congratulated him. "But this confrontation has just begun!"

  He projected forward and cried " Soru: Zalabast". In a flash he disappeared as if swallowed by an invisible force but the pirate wasn't of the same opinion. Do you think such a trick would work against someone like me?

  The panther-man appeared right behind him, however, he was prepared for such an eventuality and in fact, once he attempted to strike him with his claws, he promptly responded with a blow of his sword.

  "Come on, you can do better than that" Morgan teased him

  “You're right" retorted the other "But you're exactly where I want you."

  "What?" demanded Morgan abruptly, not realizing what the scoundrel was alluding to. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed immediately afterwards as if he had just solved it, but by then it was too late to mull it over or to fail to notice the beast's hooked index finger pointing straight at his shoulder,

  " Shigan: Agapanthus! " Ramesh whispered immediately afterwards, unleashing a rapid barrage of blows that pierced his skin, causing blood to gush out.

  "Geppo: Toramporin!" shouted the young pirate still in pain, as he swiftly launched himself into the air, escaping the enemy’s reach. "I’ll give you credit, Devaki, you landed a hit before I could guard myself with Haki. That’s no small feat," he admitted.

  "After all, I'm just one of the best assassins under the direct command of the World Nobles. You on the other hand, just a petty thug, feared for his so-called ferocity, which I haven't yet had the honor of observing. Calling you 'The Devil of the Seas' was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen anyone do.”

  "Pompous jerk," muttered the other looking at him mockingly, "I'm going to put you out of your misery, mannequin of my assholes. Ranjin!" With khopesh in hand, he threw an air blade that, unlike Rankyaku, was larger and spun like a circular saw.

  "You're more stubborn than I remember," Devaki admitted, "But if you want to play hard, I certainly won't back down. Soru: Saburu Sprint!"

  With the same speed as a fired cannonball, he sprinted toward the enemy, deftly avoiding the slash that sliced a pair of columns in two and crashed into the walls, destroying some of the plaster. Entering the most favorable area, he prepared to unleash another of those deadly strikes.

  "Robo"

  " You won't catch me unprepared this time," replied Morgan confidently, waving his sword, " Ittoryu: Sai Mikazuki: Bocho!"

  From it started a rapid series of small crescent-shaped arcs, which, once they reached Devaki, expanded as they went. The sudden growth caught the government agent by surprise, forcing him to dodge, but two still struck him in the back. The third hit him in the center, flinging him to the ground and leaving a large smoldering crater on its surface and causing bloodstains to splatter all over the room.

  "Don't celebrate just yet," Ramesh growled, stepping out of the dust cloud left by the impact. He staggered slightly, but his eyes burned with unbridled fury "You're injured, and soon, your left arm will be useless. You won’t last much longer—you’re finished" A sneer twisted his lips.

  "On this I dissent!" exclaimed Morgan as he landed on the ground. " It's you and that corrupt institution you serve who are finished! You can't protect the World Government for much longer, Devaki. The people deserve to be free!"

  "You're a fool, Morgan, and you always will be," the other rebuked him, "What you haven't realized yet is that the World Government is the only force keeping the world from descending into madness. Without it what do you think would happen? What do you and Beaumont really plan to do when everything has fallen apart? Do you think the organization that should then replace it would keep its line and ethics neat? Do you still believe that the world is divided into good guys and bad guys, and you are part of the former? If you truly think so, you are either deluded or simply stupid. The freedom you yearn for so much and do nothing but talk about would only generate chaos."

  The Sea Devil raised his sword just in time, deflecting the air bullet the other had hurled at him, "That’s some reasoning befitting a loyal servant of the state. Damn, man, you are a true patriot," He taunted him, maintaining a fighting stance and a firm grip on his own weapon, in case the enemy wanted to go on the offensive again, "I, unlike you, have no interest in playing model citizen."

  The Cp0 officer set off on an assault, but Morgan managed to block both of his arms with the blade of his sword. "This is because your morals are dictated solely by personal gain” Devaki spat, pressing against the blade “And that's what will mark your downfall. Ashigan!"

  One of his paws went towards the pirate's chest, but he was able to dodge “And that's where you're wrong. I have full confidence in my crew and its abilities. And in spite of everything and everyone, we will succeed in realizing our dream: Eradicate the government regime, Shigan: Inderos ” His left index finger pressed against the sole of his opponent’s foot, but unlike a normal Shigan, it didn’t pierce through.

  Devaki's eyes widened as he realized his entire left limb was numb, as if it had fallen into a deep sleep. 'What did you do to me?”

  “Can't you see it yourself or do you need help from your superiors here too?” Morgan quipped,“I numbed your pretty little foot, big cat. That way, I stopped a blow that could've done some real damage.”

  He struck Devaki’s right arm again, sending him collapsing, weakened "Now you are helpless and an easy prey to my attacks. Ittoryu: Sai Mikazuki.”

  The crescent-shaped slashes tore through his arms and hips, while Morgan swiftly retreated to a safe distance. In the end, although he was weakened, he was still quite a skillful and powerful zoan user.

  "Damn you!" grunted Devaki "You won't get away with it this time either. A traitor of your caliber deserves to suffer a fate far worse than death for the affront to the government. Rottingin the lowest level of Impel Down amid atrocious torture and suffering should be more than adequate."

  "This your attachment to the World Government I just don't understand, Ramesh" Morgan brought a hand to his injured shoulder, and in feeling it, he felt a slight twinge that made him grind his teeth in an attempt to resist "To them we are but mere pawns on a chessboard, expendable the moment we are no longer of any use to them. We are just commodities, numbers on a chart, items for sale, each one is considered a tool for their dirty ends. What makes you think they won't hesitate to get rid of you when they no longer need or have no place for you in their grand scheme? You are a loyal soldier, Ramesh, always have been. But your trust is misplaced."

  "Shut up!" barked the Cp0 officer, at the same time trying to rouse his arm and leg from their stupor, "You trying to confuse me won't work, I assure you. You are just a fake, a traitor, a perjurer, one who masks his dirty pirate and parasitic ways with the justification that they serve to protect the world from the bad guys. When the real villain is right in front of me. The Vice Admiral Baron was right: Pirates are only a disease infesting society that should be eliminated as soon as possible.”

  Morgan chuckled, narrowing his eyes, "Ah, yes, dear old Marines never disappoint. It's rather strange that none of them are here today. I thought stopping me was in their interests as well, yet only Cipher Aigis 0 was sent on my trail, am I right? I guess your solidary comrades are wandering around the castle, waiting for their best agent to complete the task assigned to him? Or are the revolutionaries, whom you so much considered totally inept, giving them a hard time? Or if you want an absurd theory” He put his hand out as if pondering what he would say next, "Did you come here just because you wanted another fight with me, disobeying orders? Wow, I'm so moved I could faint at any moment. Do you think that by bringing them my head, they'll give you a few scratches behind the ears and eternal glory? Or are you aiming for something greater? You are pathetic."

  "I told you to shut up!" After spitting out a blood clot, Devaki continued, although he was just starting to regain feeling in his limbs "How dare a gutter rat like you lecture me? A former Marine who went against everything he was supposed to represent. Where is your honor now or the meaning of this pointless crusade? You have always been far too rash, Morgan. What makes you think you'll succeed where everyone else has miserably failed?”

  "You talk to me about honor?" asked Morgan, putting his hand on the chest "You serve an organization built on corruption, slavery, and oppression. Where is the honor in this? What happened to me was the ultimate proof that I had to change something. It was as if I had been blind until then and suddenly regained my sight.I chose to live and die as a free man, for a cause beyond myself, rather than have others decide my fate. Which you would never understand unless you start thinking for yourself “ He tapped his temple briefly with his index finger “And as for my crusade, as you call it, I’m just fighting so that every inhabitant of the world no longer has to submit to such a despotic dictatorship. For protection of the freewill "

  "Wretched assassin.” The man-panther struggled to get up, having now noticed how he was gradually regaining his vigor, probably the anesthetic effect of that fearsome technique had now ended, "You can justify your actions any way you want. You can hide behind lofty speeches and big words, but in the end, you will always remain a lousy pirate. A man who has turned his back on his duty, on his comrades, and who has cast a disgrace both the Marines and his own family, is that it?”

  A dangerous gleam flashed in the pirate's eyes, as if those words cut deeper than any wound. Pleased to have hit a nerve, Devaki continued, "The World Government is the only thing that can bring order and peace to a tortured land, the only thing that protects the peoples from the barbarity of piracy. And today, you damned rascals, assisted by those fanatics of the revolution, have brought it into this idyllic realm, unleashing death and destruction.This is an unacceptable!!! Tekkai: Nagareboshi!"

  With a roar that almost made even stone tremble, Devaki launched himself at the pirate.

  "Order and peace built on the backs of the oppressed and on lies? No, Ramesh, I refuse to accept that." Morgan twirled his own sword, before launching the counteroffensive. " Geppo: Duivels Sabrer!"

  Despite the fact that the shockwave of considerable intensity from that clash had shaken even the very foundation of the castle, the two stood firm as the steel of the blade screeched against the claws of the humanoid beast. "I have seen with my own eyes what lies behind the screen of justice and I’m even willing to sacrifice myself in order to eradicate it, even piece by piece if necessary."

  "You can try, but I will always be there to stop you," he retorted, "I will in no way allow your reckless plans to succeed. Most importantly, you will be left empty-handed when the World Government emerges victorious from the coming storm!!!" He landed a couple of punches with considerable ferocity, although Morgan managed to parry them masterfully. But Devaki was able to inflict one on the fresh wound, and a strong shock spread throughout the pirate's body, tearing a groan of pain from him.

  "You know, once again I find this your fervent devotion to the government commendable," sneered the pirate just before coughing, "How can you still have faith in the institutions after the atrocities they have committed? It is as if they have enslaved you to their will, turning you into a good and obedient soldier, a remote-controlled automaton. Or is there more to it than that? You know, when I was still in the Marines, I had heard rumors about it, but I thought it was just idle chatter"

  The Cp0 officer clenched his fists, "A mindless, selfish bastard like you can never understand that..."

  As the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of saffron, the island of Agasthya was revealed in all its splendor, emerging from the mist. A mystical jewel wrapped in the thick, suffocating embrace of jungle wilderness, in the heart of the West Blue.

  Towering trees, adorned with creepers that snaked down to the ground in search of other footholds to cling to, loomed upward like motionless giants, their verdant foliage catching the sun's rays. On the ground, a rich variety of flora thrived and flowers cloaked in every hue imaginable dotted the sea of emerald foliage, hinting at the island’s rich biodiversity.

  A gentle breeze laden with various aromas carried with it a heavenly symphony: the chatter of a few primates swinging among the branches, the murmur of the stream whose waters tumbled down a rocky slope flanked by towering cliffs, bellowing frighteningly and bouncing in white flecks of froth, the industrious hum of insects moving back and forth, and occasionally the raucous roar of some ferocious beast could be heard.

  A corner of paradise where civilization and nature coexisted in harmony, a testament to the various villages scattered across the land with the steady beat of drums and the calls of exotic birds signaled its awakening.

  In one of these villages, made up of around a hundred thatched-roof huts, a black-haired boy played, chasing butterflies under the watchful gaze of a tall, slender woman. Her green eyes gleamed like polished gems, and her long black hair was woven into a single braid that trailed down her back. She wore a simple, white cloth draped over her frame, its once-bright fabric now dulled by time and wear.

  "Rami!" the woman called to him, "It's time to go. The wise Kerani is waiting for you."

  "But Janani," the little one pouted, stepping closer "Why should I go to that old witch?”

  “Ramesh Devaki!" she scolded him, "That old witch as you call her, she takes care of your education and that of the other children in the village. Also, she is always so caring, especially toward you."

  "But I don't want to go" huffed the little boy, "Why can't I go with you and Pitā?"

  The woman squatted down to his eye level, "Do you know what day it is today?"

  He shook his head no. At that moment, someone emerged from inside the hut: He was a man with a bronze complexion and medium-length ebony hair. He was tall with massive muscles, wearing a simple turquoise cloth covering both legs. In his right hand he carried a long ivory-white spear and whistled an ancient and traditional tune.

  "Today is the ‘Shasyotsava’,” the man said, "And on this day, we honor the spirits of our ancestors with a great hunting party. The strongest and most valiant warriors from each village will take part, and those who distinguish themselves will earn the right to compete for the title of 'Rakshak.' The winner will be honored with a sacred object by the shaman, a gift bestowed upon us by the deities many moons ago.”

  "And why can't I participate?" insisted Ramesh, crossing his arms. "I'm strong too."

  The woman smiled, gently tousling his hair, a gesture that made the little one protest as if it bothered him "You're the boldest little rascal I know. But today’s events are not for children. It's too dangerous”

  “But Janani..."

  "Your mother is right," added the man, also hinting at a small smile, although he continued to maintain that somber look, "These aren't topics a brat should care about or do you want to anger the gods?" Ramesh quickly shook his head.

  "That's better," he continued, "Fighting is a matter for vigorous men like your father, and you still have many summers ahead before you too can prove your worth."

  " Ugh," grumbled the little one, kicking a pebble with his foot.

  "Come on," his father approached him, "the venerable Kerani isn't so evil. She plays a key role in preserving our traditions, and through her, you will learn that the strength of a true warrior isn’t only in the muscles, but also here and here." he placed the forefinger of his right hand first on his forehead and then in the center of his own chest, "When you truly understand this, only then will you be ready to become a man. Do you understand?”

  The woman gave her husband a dirty look, and the little boy, although he didn’t fully understand what his father meant, nodded decisively.

  "All right," he huffed again but in a tone of surrender, "Uh... Pitā?"

  "Yes, beta?"

  "You're going to win, aren't you?"

  " Obviously, my little kamal," smiled the man, then taking him in his arms and lifting him into the air. Ramesh squealed with delight, "Very few can boast of having challenged your old man and come out unscathed. Your mother knows something about that."

  Both adults burst into thunderous laughter with their oblivious little son joining them in fervent delight.

  A few hours later, Ramesh was sitting cross-legged on the beaten ground in a rustic, but rather spacious hut with walls of wood and woven thatch, including the roof.

  A few of his peers were scattered here and there around the room, intent on a wide variety of activities, yet all listening attentively to the wise Kerani—an elderly woman who smelled of spices and moving with measured grace.

  She was an old woman, probably in her nineties but clearly looking at least twenty years younger, with long silver-gray hair braided and gathered in a bun at the base of her long, elegant neck, high cheekbones and sparkling dark eyes. She wore a long skirt, an impeccably cut blouse and a light golden scarf that fluttered with her every movement.

  Her slender fingers, adorned with three silver rings, flipped through a yellowed book, telling stories dating back thousands of years in a quiet, warm voice, with the words flowing through the air like a sweet lullaby.

  From time to time she would lift her gaze to observe her students, lingering on one in particular who idly plucked at blades of grass sprouting from the cracks in the ground.

  Kerani suddenly closed the book, a gesture that made the young boy wince, forcing him to raise his face in the direction of the elderly woman, who was now eyeing him sternly,

  "Ramesh," she called to him, "Could you explain to the rest of your comrades how the valiant hero Shaurya defeated his arch-enemy Chichiluva?"

  The little boy lowered his head, feeling uncomfortable, "I don't know," he replied shyly, continuing to keep his head bowed as if shame was about to devour him.

  "Very well," she said resignedly after a few minutes, then clapped her hands, "That's all for today, my little Chatras. Remember to rehearse what we talked about today, especially the legend of Shaurya and the crimson diamond. You can go."

  As if swept up in a sudden fury, the children began screaming and laughing, sneaking away from old Kerani's house in no time, all except little Ramesh, who was now beginning to get up and head slowly toward the door.

  "Ramesh?" the woman called to him.

  "Yes, venerable Kerani," he turned, looking at her curiously.

  "Is something troubling you?" she asked gently, "You seemed more inattentive today than usual."

  He nodded, his own gaze drifting past the window toward the clearing, as if he wished to be anywhere else.

  "Are you sure?" she insisted "I can always tell when someone isn’t being honest with me, and right now, that includes you."

  Ramesh sighed defeatedly, "I just find stories going back thousands of years to be boring!"

  He was convinced that old Kerani possessed a mystical gift, almost like she could read people's minds. Her deep knowledge of customs and traditions made her highly respected among the villagers. She was even on par with the Marakati shaman.

  The elderly woman chuckled, "You know, when I was your age, I also said the exact same words as you. However, as I grew up I learned that stories contain more than just phrases that have been moldy with time, that the tales we pass down from generations are like mirrors."

  "Mirrors?" he repeated in confusion.

  "Exactly," nodded the woman, "They reflect different aspects of reality depending on how we look at it. Take for example the story of Shaurya and the crimson diamond. It teaches us about resilience, sacrifice and the power of determination. More than just a collection of events, it serves as a guide to the challenges life can throw at us.”

  At first, Ramesh barely paid attention, but as she spoke, something shifted. His disinterest faded, replaced by a quiet curiosity that grew with every word.

  “As you grow,” Kerani continued, “you will discover that stories aren’t confined to the past; they echo into the present and their legacy shapes the path of our future. Shaurya's journey isn’t just a story; his spirit lives on in our community, guiding us even now. But I understand that for a child your age what I said doesn't make sense.”

  She approached the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Take your time, Ramesh. Embrace stories, because they are the whispers of our ancestors that guide us through the labyrinth of life. I'll let you go now, I doubt you'd want to miss the rest of the festival”

  Ramesh nodded, quickly thanking the woman, although he seemed particularly shaken by the words addressed to him and went out, walking towards the center of his village.

  "It's just nonsense," thought the little boy as he walked down the stretch separating elder Kerani's house from the rest of the village.He had never understood why people placed so much importance on these things. However, he knew that in order to be taken seriously and to be respected, he had to prove himself, and he looked forward to being able to grow up so that he could live up to his father's standards.

  A group of older girls walked past him, smiling and murmuring something about who had prevailed in the hunt. He hated that he was still too young to even witness what he thought were the most exciting events of the ‘Shasyotsava’. Still, his parents' words lingered in his mind—their concerns for his safety, their belief that a child like him shouldn’t see something so gory

  He was convinced that they were exaggerating.

  "However, my Pitā will win for sure," Ramesh said to himself, clenching a fist confidently, "he is one of the strongest warriors in the village”

  As he approached the central square, the festive atmosphere enveloped him. Excited shouts were lost in the breeze, and the air was filled with the rich aroma of saffron-infused rice, spiced lentil stews, and sizzling skewers of tandoori meat, prepared specially for the celebration. Even old Machua was displaying a pair of boom-boom hares and some dervish monkeys, complaining about how much effort it took him to catch and cook them.

  "It’s starting," Ramesh observed, but he couldn’t get any closer. A stabbing pain pierced his head from side to side "What the…"

  He felt as if he was on fire. But what was even stranger was that in between his migraines, he sensed a dim but perfectly understandable voice, as if someone was ordering him to head elsewhere, far away from the square and the festivities. As if someone was calling him.

  He felt his body moving of its own accord, beginning to run elsewhere. It was as if someone else had seized control, pulling him toward an unknown destination. A chill ran through him—this was the kind of thing that happened in the old stories, the ones he had always dismissed as nonsense. Yet here he was, living one. He didn’t understand where he was going until he found himself near a hut, far larger and sturdier than old Kerani’s house.

  He was in front of the dwelling of Marakati, a shaman who was revered and considered quite skilled and powerful by the villagers. A licorice-like smell seemed to emanate from it, but as little Ramesh had also observed, there seemed to be no sign of anyone.

  Sure enough, he had gone to the village to witness what the boy had been expressly forbidden.

  Ramesh couldn't help but feel it was a real injustice, as he again tried to struggle against that whisper grew louder, urging him in. He hesitated for a moment, looking around inquiringly, making sure the shaman wasn't already on his way back or that there was no one else watching him.

  With his heart threatening to explode from his minute chest, the little boy crossed the threshold, pushing open the wooden door oddly left ajar, stepping inside.

  The interior was dimly lit although many things were still visible, with flickering candles projecting strange symbols on walls draped with woven tapestries and animal skins.The aroma of licorice and spicy herbs grew stronger as the little one stepped inside, along with the strange force that seemed to guide him. A cold, oppressive energy hung in the air, thick with a presence that seemed to press against his skin, sending chills down his spine.

  He turned his head to his right: Strange cruets were arranged on the shelves, some containing skulls of who-knows-what creatures, others roots and plants of various shapes and sizes, meticulously labeled using a language he didn't know. A partially open tome, with complicated formulas sprawled across the pages, lay on a wooden table.

  A brazier, now extinguished but still smoldering with lingering ashes, dominated the center of the room, surrounded by pillows and rugs.

  The fear that Marakati might return and find that someone had entered his home uninvited had never left him, as he had been taught that committing such acts was severely punished.

  With each step it seemed as if the weight of it was about to overwhelm him, accompanied by the constant whispering that faded the moment Ramesh's eyes rested on an ornately wrapped object, its shape unclear but the gold embroidery gleaming under the dim light, nestled among various other heirlooms belonging to the powerful sorcerer.

  Without further ado and with his heart now rising in his throat, Ramesh cautiously discovered what was contained in it: It was a large, round fruit, slightly bigger than his hand, with a yellowish top fading to a dark, almost black underside, speckled with darker spots. Eight emerald-green leaf-like stems encircled it, and from the top sprouted a delicate, fountain-like petiole, its twisted tips spiraling upward.

  Now he was beginning to hear it again. It was as if the voice or strange sensation was coming from the odd item Ramesh kept twisting between his fingers, though that seemed impossible, since it was just a strangely shaped and colored fruit.

  The urge to bite into it got the better of him, and the moment it touched his lips, a rush wracked every cell in his body. A rancid, briny tang coated his tongue, like fermented sea water and ash, so vile that he nearly retched. He cursed himself for his recklessness, praying that the sensation would soon disappear.

  It was as if he had plunged into a real nightmare, and he probably was, for once he swallowed the morsel, the room began to swirl around, twisting and warping like the coils of a snake, until everything went black.

  The last thing he heard before sinking into the abyss was an echo that seemed distant, as if it was calling him into a realm beyond the boundaries of his understanding....

  A few hours later...

  "He’s still breathing."

  Ramesh muttered. He felt as if he had slept two full days in a row. His head pounded like a drum, and his body ached, as if a herd of oxen had run him over.

  "Kid, are you still with us?"

  He made a great effort, concentrated, and managed to open his eyes. The world blurred at first, but he focused harder, blinking rapidly. With one last push, his vision sharpened, and a face materialized in front of him: A tall man with a thick red beard and glasses with dark lenses. The strangest haircut Ramesh had ever seen topped his head—shaved on both sides, short in front with a high tuft, and longer in the back.

  Standing next to him was something even stranger: a creature with short but thick fur and long whiskers that seemed to vibrate in the presence of the breeze that was beginning to blow. It resembled the sea lions Kerani had once described in the legends, tales she had passed down to him, though he'd never seen one in person.

  Yet there was something quite different about that being, so much so that he doubted whether it was real or not: It stood upright, like a human, wearing a short white jacket and pants of a bluish hue, tucked into brown leggings. Around its neck it wore a black tie that sat perfectly on its toned, well-built chest, but not as large as his Pitā’s.

  "Pitā! Janani!" the little boy exclaimed shortly after without even realizing it, with the two continuing to observe him. His mind, still aching, began to crowd with worries about his parents and why he was here, as well as who these strange individuals were.

  "Hey, you sure you're okay kid?" asked the guy with the bizarre hairstyle again, "You look like you've seen a Dame Blanche”

  The little boy didn't respond; rather, he struggled to his feet, summoning all his strength not to think about the pain that still cramped his little body and running off in the direction of the village, heedless of whether those guys were following him or not.

  Hell, he was increasingly convinced that those two were nothing more than the figments of his imagination or some strange dream.

  "Congratulations, Alaris," said the humanoid sea lion, "As usual you always know the right approach to use." Its gaze followed the little one as he disappeared into the bushes.

  ”Do me the favor of shutting up," retorted the other, still squatting, and glancing at his interlocutor "Why should I be to blame this time? Look at you, even your mother would be scared of you”

  Ramesh continued to run relentlessly, although pain had once again taken hold and he felt suffocated, stumbling over scattered branches along the way. His eyes were fixed on the dense blanket of smoke that rose beyond the forest thicket and could only come from one place on the entire island that was exactly at that exact spot…

  "The Village!" He thought, with panic imposing itself on his already distressed psyche. Was it even possible that something had gone wrong during the festival or that someone from elsewhere on the island or even from the outside had attacked the place he called home? Whatever happened, he hoped in his heart that both his parents had escaped it. After all, his Pitā was one of the strongest warriors in the entire village, and anyone who dared challenge him was either a fool or had no idea what they were up against.

  Reaching the edge of the forest, he hesitated, catching his breath. An odor of smoke quickly filled the air, but there wasn’t only that that clouded the air as if it were an unbearable stench, there was an acrid, sweetish smell...the smell of death. In fact, once he had looked ahead of him, a most terrifying scene opened before his eyes and a thump in his heart struck him violently, making him wince: An orange glow roared and claimed for itself the houses it hadn't yet devoured, for all that was left of the rest was a pile of rubble. And on the ground, limp and lifeless, were bodies. Too many to count. Too still. Too silent.

  "It can't be!" the little one exclaimed terrified, trudging between gasps.

  The place he once thought was the most beautiful in the world, where he loved to lie on the grass and admire the clear blue sky, where he loved to chase butterflies and play with whatever cuddly little animals came from across the clearing, had now been reduced to a desolate, deserted heath.

  Where a few hours ago the laughter of its inhabitants and the sounds of the festival filled the air, now only a mournful stillness dwelt there. Could it be that in those few minutes when he had lost consciousness, or so he thought, had the gods poured their fury on the village? Was he to blame for this?

  He should never have picked up or tasted the damn thing, but he couldn't have shirked it either, as if some force had compelled him against his will, now mysteriously disappearing into thin air.

  "What happened? What is all this? Where’s Pitā? Janani?" He staggered forward, his breath shallow, his gaze flickering over the ruins in a frantic search for life. But with every step, the air thickened—choked with the coppery tang of blood, the charred bitterness of wood, and something worse. Something sickly-sweet, clinging to the back of his throat. The scent of death.

  Bodies were strewn like discarded dolls, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood slicked the dirt roads, pooling in the cracks, seeping into the earth as if the island itself was trying to drink it down. Some corpses lay sprawled with vacant eyes staring skyward, throats slashed as if by a large, ravenous beast. Others were torn open, ribs jutting from gaping wounds, their insides hollowed as if something had feasted upon them. Warriors still gripped their spears in rigor-stiff hands, their faces frozen in expressions of defiance or agony. And then there were those whose flesh had been scorched, their skin blackened and peeling like old parchment, as if the fire had taken them mid-scream.

  But even that didn't make sense. His father and the other warriors were the strongest people he knew—none of them had ever lost to the wild beasts that roamed the forest. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Something else had done this. Something worse.

  But then who or what? Those two strangers from before? No, they were definitely too weird not to belong to some corner of his imagination, likely a result of his condition. His Pitā had explained to him that in certain stressful situations, the mind could play strange tricks, which was rather disadvantageous to anyone aspiring to become an intrepid warrior.

  And if on the off chance that those two were real and the real perpetrators, why would they ever spare him? Or why let him escape and not follow him? No, something was definitely not right.

  It was definitely a surreal situation; he felt as if he was still dreaming. But, then why couldn't he wake up? Because it was the damn reality, that's why.

  He climbed over the debris, looking again at the slaughtered remains of those who had been friends and acquaintances to him. Why did such a thing happen? He asked himself again. Fear and despondency seemed to overwhelm him, but he didn't give up, clinging with all his soul to the glimmer of hope that his parents were still alive. That there were still survivors, hidden away waiting for someone to rescue them.

  He called out with all the breath he had left, but it was a gesture in vain. No one seemed to react or answer the call, except for the faint crackling of the now dying flames or some debris tumbling to the ground. With each step, Ramesh's resolve seemed to waver more and more, but he couldn't stop. He had to find answers, had to find his parents and his Pitā would teach a lesson to the one who had caused all this.

  But as soon as he had turned the corner, his breath caught and his legs trembled. Every thought he had had up to that moment was no longer of any importance. There, in the midst of that bleak devastation, he spotted a body whose clothes left no room for doubt. His beloved Janani, Maryam was lying on the ground with her face submerged in mud and not hinting at any movement, not even the most imperceptible.

  Despair swallowed Ramesh in one gulp, who threw himself on his mother's body, insistently trying to rouse her, but by then there was nothing more to be done: her face had been disfigured, her body torn apart by sharp, merciless fangs. Just beyond, his Pitā, Chanda, lay broken in the dirt. His body was battered, torn, his fingers still locked around the spear he had refused to let go of—even in death. He had fought. Fought with everything he had to protect her. And yet, he had fallen all the same, left to rot beside the woman he couldn’t save.

  The bewilderment in Ramesh's heart was so strong that he couldn't even mourn.Sitting in that quagmire, the little Devaki held his mother's head tightly. His eyes, hollow and unfocused, drifted toward his father, yet he wasn’t truly seeing. His gaze was lost, staring past the ruin, past the blood, past the world itself.

  "I am so sorry," he said, as he stroked his mother's hair with a hand soaked in mud. But what could a little boy like him, so small, so weak, have done, other than get himself killed, making any attempt he might have made to save them useless?"

  "We don't want to hurt you,"

  A quiet, yet imperious, voice cut through the heavy silence like a shard of ice.

  Squeezed in his own grief, the little boy didn't even notice the presence of two intruders standing mere a few feet away. His head snapped to the side, and his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw them: the same figures who had crossed his path on the beach, the ones he now suspected might have been involved in the horrors that had befallen his village. The human sat perched on a crumbled piece of wall, while the sea creature stood beside him, its posture as protective as a sentinel.

  Now Ramesh could observe the human more clearly: He wore a violet-colored, double-breasted suit jacket over a black shirt, paired with a floral-patterned tie. His turquoise shorts were decorated with a cracked egg pattern, and he wore simple sandals on his feet. Draped over his shoulders like a cape was a white jacket with golden epaulets and crimson sleeve cuffs.

  Still frightened, the child struggled to get up. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but his legs refused to respond, leaving him paralyzed.

  "Calm, try not to do anything silly," declared the man as if he had read his mind or sensed his intentions, "We don't want any trouble, right Commodore?" he continued, looking around, before turning to the individual on his right. The other nodded, although it sported a rather thoughtful expression, as if pondering something.

  "I guess you've never seen a Mink in the flesh before, am I right?" He then asked the little one noticing how he was continuing to stare at the sea lion "Well, its name is Welo," he said pointing at it with his thumb " It’s my faithful right hand, a sea lion-type mink and a formidable warrior. But don't be fooled by its physique or badass aura, it's a real prick," he smiled as if he had just uttered something funny.

  "What the hell is wrong with you Baron?" blurted out the creature, dumbfounded "Does this seem like the time or place to talk this kind of shit?"

  "Well, you know how I am" The man couldn't help but smile at it "I don't like lying, especially in the presence of such a cute and innocent little guy"

  "You hairless ape," muttered the Mink between its teeth.

  The former threw it a dirty look, "Um, did you say something, Commodore?"

  "Absolutely nothing, sir."

  "Very well, then," the man did, turning then toward Ramesh. Although it was a far from pleasant situation, given that and especially who he was clutching between his small fingers now dipped in blood, he had to admit that that little comic skit between those two had distracted him for a few seconds, even calming him down, but he felt he couldn’t let his guard down.

  "Are you hurt or something?" The firm tone used by the man roused him from those thoughts. He lifted his head, meeting the man's gaze, and nodded.

  "Your parents?" the man asked, examining with his gaze first the body of his Pità and then dwelling on that of his Janani, who despite her wounds, had retained her beauty, her eyes were wide open and glassy. Her skin was colder than usual, white and pale as if she had always been refractive to the sun. She was motionless and rigid like a statue.

  He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, his vision blurring for a few seconds, as he nodded at the question from the man,

  "I'm so sorry," he quickly lowered his eyes, then raised them again, but at the exact moment he was about to utter the word again, he was startled by the little guy in front of him, who after minutes of glacial silence, broken only by a few gestures, had asked a "Who are you" in a trembling voice.

  "It was my intention to ask you the same question but you are right," he smiled amicably, "Forgive my rudeness for not introducing myself sooner. My name is Alaris Baron and I'm a Marine Vice Admiral, and this is Welo" the man then explained, indicating the Mink with a slight nod “A Marine Commodore”

  "Very pleased," replied the creature, making a small bow with its head.

  "One of our patrol ships went missing not far from here. We were sent to locate any wreckage or survivors. When we saw the smoke, we thought it might be connected. Instead, we found you unconscious on the beach. And following you then led us to this” he concluded, pointing with his hands to the surrounding carnage.

  "What is the Marine?" the little Ramesh asked. He had never heard of it, not in the village tales, not in the whispered warnings of the elders, not even in old Kerani’s stories, and she knew everything there was to know. Had she, unlike his parents and the others, managed to survive?

  "Since this island isn't affiliated with the World Government, it is plausible that you don't even know what the latter is or the organization to which I have dedicated my life" Alaris stood, brushing sand from his uniform. He looked even taller than Ramesh imagined "Well, the Marine is the military organization of the World Government responsible for maintaining order, peace and justice in a world full of danger. A shield against the darkness that threatens to engulf us. It is a beacon of hope, a symbol of courage in the face of all adversity, a firm and stable bastion in these tumultuous and chaotic times."

  Although he found many words addressed to him rather unintelligible, Ramesh seemed as if enraptured by his fervor.

  "The Marine represents a bulwark against those who prey on the weak” Alaris proclaimed "We are the defenders of freedom, the guardians of justice. Silent guardian angels who tirelessly patrol the oceans to uphold the rule of law."

  Welo, the sea creature, nodded in agreement, standing resolute beside its superior.

  But perhaps most importantly," Alaris continued, "is that the Marine represents unity and solidarity. It brings together people from all walks of life, uniting different races and creeds under a common cause. Our mission is simple: to make the seas safe for all who sail them and to eradicate, once and for all, one of the greatest plagues upon this world, the piracy”

  "Piracy?" echoed Ramesh.

  "Yes, piracy," he nodded, "The banner under which the worst scum of the seas gather. A plague that, if unchecked, will erode the very foundations of civilization. Pirates aren’t just thieves preying on ships, they are ruthless butchers who spread fear wherever they go, leaving devastation in their wake”

  As he spoke those words, Ramesh looked around, and although he was only a mere five-year-old brat, he probably sensed where this man could or would be going with this. The man noticed this and decided to continue "Bloody monsters incapable of feeling any pity or remorse, not even towards the lives they take or for others they ruin. Yes, I guess you must have figured that out, and although you are just a child, in the Marines I'm known for my particular blunt honesty”

  "But, sir," the comrade Mink interrupted him, taking a step forward, "Why are you revealing all this information to a civilian? Aoshika had been quite clear..."

  But the man shushed it with a simple wave of his hand "I'm well aware of his directives, but as you know, I don't approve of the methods used by that icy carrion. He is just a fanatical fool, too blind to grab what's there ready for the taking.”

  Ramesh frowned in confusion. Who was this man they were talking about? The weight of everything, the loss, the stranger’s words, the sheer flood of information, pressed down on him. His head pounded, and his legs felt unsteady, as if the world itself might slip out from under him

  “So... where were we?" the Vice-Admiral asked, turning to the child as if gathering his thoughts. "Ah, right!" He snapped his fingers. "The devastation here today, the slaughter of the inhabitants, the loss of your parents is the work of ruthless and sadistic pirates. I deeply regret that we arrived too late to stop such cruelty, and that you had to witness such evil at such a young age."

  Ramesh’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Could ordinary men really have committed such slaughter? Were they truly no different from the beasts his Pità had fought ruthless enough to butcher an entire village, to turn on their own kind like predators? And why? Why had his home, his parents, been singled out for such devastation?

  At that moment, a surge of emotion welled up inside him, hot and furious like a boiling river. Anger flooded through him, and before he even realized it, his right fist was clenched tight. The Vice Admiral's sharp eyes caught the movement and a smirk spreading across his face, one that carried an unmistakable, sinister edge.

  “Anyway, kid..." Alaris let the words hang for a moment before leaning in slightly. "You still haven't told me your name”

  The little one took a deep breath. "Ramesh Devaki," he said, his eyes flashing with determination. Alaris' grin widened, as if savoring the moment.

  "Very well," he mused, running a hand over his thick crimson beard, "A beautiful name that if I'm not mistaken comes from a very ancient language and is supposed to mean 'preserver' or 'one who saves from danger' , a concept that I and the government particularly appreciate. And although you haven't had a chance to demonstrate it today, I'm sure you will in the future."

  “What do you mean?" the boy asked, confusion etched across his face. There was something unsettling about the man, not just his words, but the way he delivered them, as if he were speaking in riddles only he could understand.

  The Vice Admiral studied the boy for a moment, his expression unreadable as he stroked his beard. Then, as if the previous question had never been asked, he said, "Tell me, Ramesh, did you love your parents?"

  Ramesh's heart leapt at the mention of his parents as his gaze drifted to their battered bodies, and the memories began to flow: his mother’s warmth and soothing voice, his father’s steady presence and firm embrace. They were the center of his world, something he could never be without.

  Now, it felt as if they had vanished like ghosts or had never existed at all, leaving him more alone than ever. A knot formed in his throat, tightening with each silent sob as he fought desperately to hold back the tears carving paths down his face, his voice barely clinging to a whisper.

  “Yes, with all my heart,” he whispered with shining eyes

  Alaris's gaze seemed to soften for a moment, only to return to his usual composure "The pain you're feeling now, Ramesh... it won’t fade easily. Loss like this leaves a wound that never truly heals. And as the days pass, you'll find yourself alone, struggling just to endure. But perhaps, fate hasn’t abandoned you entirely. My subordinate and I can offer you something more than grief. A path forward”

  Lucky? He echoed the word in his mind, disbelief twisting into anger. How dare he call this lucky? His entire world, his family, his home, had been torn away in an instant, with such brutal finality that it barely felt real. What gave this madman the right to say such a thing?

  Heat surged through him, his nails biting into his palms as his fists clenched tight. The Vice Admiral caught the gesture, his expression unreadable. Then, in a tone that was almost measured, he spoke.

  “Perhaps I was too hasty," he admitted, his voice deceptively calm. "But tell me, Ramesh. If you had the chance to take revenge on the ones who did this, the ones who stole your family, your future… would you take it? If you could stop them from doing the same to others, if you could protect the innocent and bring order to a world teetering on chaos… would you hesitate?”

  Ramesh’s breath hitched. What exactly was he asking him? Was he serious? It all seemed so absurd to him. His father, his Pitā, had been one of the village’s strongest warriors, yet he had fallen like all the others, wiped out as if they were nothing. If even they hadn’t stood a chance, what hope did a frail, grieving child have?

  The very idea was lunacy.

  But something in him refused to doubt; the Vice Admiral’s words rang with a certainty he couldn’t ignore. He nodded, firm and resolute, as if his very life depended on it.

  "Magnifique!" exclaimed the Vice Admiral clapping his hands, "However, there is a matter we need to discuss first.”

  The boy tilted his head.

  “I’ll be blunt,” the Vice Admiral continued. “Given your age and, frankly, your size, you wouldn’t even be able to scare off a house cat, let alone the kind of cutthroats who razed this village. They’d carve you up in seconds, devour you whole, bones and all. Look around you. Do you see how easily they wiped out men who seemed strong at first glance? That’s why, if you truly wish to stand for justice, you’ll have to endure training so brutal that few survive it. Tell me, do you still have the resolve to fight?”

  Ramesh swallowed hard, disbelief still etched on his face as thoughts crashed chaotically through his mind.Would the Vice Admiral truly take care of him now that he had nowhere else to go?

  Yet, what terrified him even more was stepping into something with no guarantee of survival, something that, as Alaris himself admitted, only a few lived through. He wasn’t like his Pitā, he hadn’t inherited his strength or resilience. So what chance did a child like him have?

  But the little boy nodded with conviction. Nothing should have frightened him, for he believed that his parents, from the place where their souls had arrived, would feel deep shame if they looked at him.

  Look at your parents' faces one last time," the man commanded. The request struck Ramesh as both cruel and bewildering. Why force him to relive such agony?

  "Carve their expressions into your memory," Alaris continued. "Let them be a warning, a reminder of what happens when you falter. You don’t want to share their fate, do you?”

  Ramesh nodded, though he didn’t fully grasp what the man meant.

  "So, what steps will you take to make sure their end is not yours?”

  What was he supposed to do? He certainly wouldn’t want to share their fate,no matter how much he longed to see their smiling faces again. He couldn't bear the helplessness, guilt, and inadequacy, nor could he keep depending on others to save him or anyone else.

  Clenching his hand into a fist, he looked one last time at the faces of his parents. Their sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain; of this, he was certain. He then peered at the Vice Admiral, locking eyes with his ruby irises without fear or shame. His voice had grown hoarse, “I will become stronger.”

  Yes, he would learn to rely on his own strength and conviction, ensuring that the vision of the one saving him would come to fruition.

  Alaris smiled. "So, come on!" He held out his hand. "Take charge of your life, and help me build a bright future for all."

  Terms used in the fic:

  - Janani: In Marathi and Sanskrit language it means "mother"

  - Pitā: In Hindi language it means "father"

  - Shasyotsava: In Hindi language it means "Harvest Festival"

  - Rakshak: In Sanskrit language it means "Protector" or "Guardian"

  - Beta: In Hindi language it means "Son"

  - Kamal: In Hindi language it means "Lotus"

  - Chatras: In Hindi language it means "Disciples"

  - Dame Blanche: In French it means "White Lady" and refers to the ghosts or malevolent spectral figures existing in that culture/folklore