The weight of the two items in Valerius's hands was more profound than any gold. The clumsy, badger-shaped Zoan fruit and the dull Haki orb were a tangible link to his grim new reality. They were prizes won through a brutal, horrifying act, a silent contract between him and the ravenous tree in his mind. The thought of eating the fruit himself had crossed his mind, a brief, selfish whisper of ambition. But the tree had given him the Empty Empty Fruit. What would another power do to him? Would it be too much for his human body to handle? The risk was too great.
He looked out at the scorched, silent village. It was a graveyard of memories, a place where he had once known a different kind of life. The people who had lived here were gone, scattered to the winds or buried in shallow graves. Valerius knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that he couldn't survive alone. The world was too big, too cruel, and his new, terrifying power, while immense, was still a secret that had to be protected at all costs. The tree was a double-edged sword, a source of power and a source of paranoia. He couldn't trust anyone with the knowledge of what he truly was.
But he could give them a different kind of power. A power that wasn't a part of him, but a gift from him. A power that would bind them to him, not through fear, but through gratitude. He had to find a crew, a small band of people who were as desperate as he was, but who still possessed a shred of hope, a spark of fight. His gaze fell on the dilapidated smithy at the edge of town, the only building that hadn't been completely leveled. Inside, he knew, lived a woman who was a walking testament to the cruel irony of power in this world.
He found her tending to a small, sputtering fire in the forge. Lyra. She was a huntress, once renowned throughout the region for her skill and her B-tier innate ability. She had a power that allowed her to manipulate air, a devastatingly effective ability for both hunting and combat. But a recent skirmish with a higher-tier monster had left her with a mangled arm, a twisted, useless limb that now hung limply at her side. Her power was useless without the precision and strength of her arm, and her spirit had been broken with it.
She didn't look up as he entered, the rhythmic rasp of her bellows a lonely counterpoint to the silence. Her face, once hardened with the pride of a huntress, was now etched with a deep, weary disillusionment. Her eyes, when they finally flickered up to him, held no fire, only a dull, empty resentment.
"Valerius," she said, her voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Lost in the old man's library again?" The sarcasm was heavy, a pointed jab at his old life. She saw him not as a survivor, but as a ghost of the past, a symbol of a world that no longer existed.
He ignored the jab, stepping forward and placing the two items on the worn anvil between them. The Zoan fruit, with its deep, earthy color, looked almost comical against the soot-stained metal. The Haki orb pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible light.
Lyra's eyes widened for a split second, a flash of genuine surprise in their depths, before they narrowed into a look of suspicion. "Where did you get these?" she asked, her voice losing its sarcastic edge and taking on a dangerous, defensive tone. "Did you raid a traveling merchant? A fool's errand that will get you killed."
"I found them," Valerius said simply, his voice a low, unsteady murmur. He couldn't tell her the truth. The very thought of it sent a jolt of panic through him. "In the Cursed Woods."
Lyra scoffed, a short, bitter sound. "The woods give nothing but death. What nonsense is this, boy? What are you playing at?" She held up her mangled arm, the wrist bent at an unnatural angle. "I am a B-tier user. Do you know what that means? It means I was born to bend the air to my will. And yet, one misplaced step, and my power is useless. My very strength has become a cage. You think a pretty fruit and a shiny rock will change that?" Her voice rose with each word, her anger a low, steady flame.
Valerius stood his ground, his heart pounding in his chest. He focused on the memory of his father's ruined manor, of his own helplessness. It was a cold, hard well of courage that he could draw from. He looked her directly in the eye. "No," he said, his voice stronger now, more resolute. "I don't. But I know what it's like to be powerless. I know what it's like to have everything you've ever known taken from you." He gestured to the ruins around them. "The world took our home. It took our people. It took your strength. I am going to take it all back."
Lyra stared at him, her resentment turning to a confused silence. His words were madness. The world was a vast, terrifying place. The powers of men were tiered, their fates sealed. A B-tier user with a broken arm was a footnote. A non-powered boy was a ghost. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw none of the foolish optimism she had expected. Instead, she saw a terrible, single-minded sincerity. There was a raw, unyielding fire in his gaze, a desperate resolve that spoke of a man who had already been to hell and back. He wasn't a boy playing a game. He was a survivor who was now planning to become a conqueror.
"I don't know what this is," Valerius continued, gesturing to the fruits. "I don't know where it came from. But I know that with it, we can rebuild. We can make this village a haven. We can defend ourselves. We can turn the very curse of this forest into our salvation."
He reached for the Zoan fruit, his hands still trembling slightly, and pushed it towards her. "Eat this. It will heal you. It will give you a new strength. And with that strength, you will help me build a world where people like us—the broken, the defeated, the forgotten—can finally be safe."
Lyra stared at the fruit, and then at Valerius. The air around them was thick with the weight of his impossible words. They were the ravings of a madman, and yet, there was something in his eyes, a strange, compelling sincerity that spoke of a conviction she hadn't seen in years. Her own power was useless. Her arm was ruined. She had nothing left to lose. The world was a cruel, uncaring place, and she was just another casualty. But maybe, just maybe, this boy, this ghost of a past life, held the key to a future.
She looked at the fruit, its deep, earthy brown a stark contrast to her disillusionment. The fruit was an impossible thing, but then again, so was the boy in front of her. His hands weren't the calloused hands of a hunter, but the gentle hands of a scholar, and yet, they were offering her a salvation she had long thought was impossible.
Lyra took a deep breath, the rasping sound of her bellows now a distant memory. She looked at Valerius, her skepticism still a thick fog in her mind, but a small, hesitant spark of faith had begun to ignite within her. She didn't believe his words, but she believed in the desperation, the sincerity, and the fire she saw in his eyes.
"Your proposal is madness," she said, her voice a low whisper. "But I have seen enough madness to know that sometimes, it's the only thing that makes sense." She looked at the Zoan fruit, and a new ambition, a faint, glimmering hope, began to form in her heart.
"I will consider it," she said, her words a promise and a warning. The world around them was still a ruin, but for the first time in a long time, the future didn't seem so bleak.