Shiganomi was just another island in the vast Grand Line, lost among a handful of small lands that formed an archipelago barely worthy of appearing on maps.
A poor land where the wealthy from nearby nations threw away everything they no longer needed. A nation built on scrap and garbage.
Eight years ago, the royal family of the kingdom of Jeres set their eyes on it. With promises of prosperity, they took control of the archipelago… and that's when everything started to change.
For the worse.
The inhabitants were torn from their homes and forced to work among mountains of waste, searching for valuables amidst the filth. Under the watchful eyes of armed guards, they melted and molded the scrap to forge weapons destined for the kingdom of Jeres.
Eight years of abuse, hunger, and death ignited a flame impossible to extinguish. Under the banner of Arlen, Kael, and Olaf, the sparks of rebellion flared into an unstoppable fire. With every victory, chains were broken, tyrants fell, and hope spread throughout the archipelago.
Now, the capital built by Jeres six years ago in Shiganomi stood on the brink of collapse. The yoke of slavery was about to be broken forever…
Until they arrived.
When freedom was just minutes away, the Marines appeared.
—Why today...? Ahg… why?— murmured a soldier, his voice fading along with the light in his eyes. —We're not even an affiliated nation…"
His breath stopped as the battle raged around him. Swords clashed, rifles thundered, blood spilled, and countless screams echoed under the sky.
—Die!"
A Marine fell lifeless.
—N-no, please, mercy…"
A soldier was torn apart by gunfire.
—Ghh-khg…"
Someone crawled through the chaos, a muffled, wet sound escaping their mouth as blood filled their lungs.
And then.
THOOM!
A shockwave rumbled down the street, raising a cloud of dust and making nearby walls creak. Amid the dust, the figure of two beasts colliding fists was barely visible.
"Grrraaah!"
A guttural roar swept away the dust covering the place.
—Boy, if you roar like that, what's the difference between you and a mere beast?"
The cautious voice of Raya was heard as he narrowly dodged a powerful punch from Arlen. His eyes glowed red while he unleashed his Observation Haki.
Small drops of sweat ran down his wrinkled face, a physical sign betraying how slowly his stamina was being drained, though he refused to show it.
Arlen said nothing. His eyes squinted against the dust that had previously blinded him, staring hard at the old man, only to be forced to cross his arms before him in a vain attempt to withstand the Vice Admiral's Haki-covered blow.
Bam!
His legs dragged as he was blasted several meters back, deep grooves forming beneath his feet.
A second later, he exploded forward at breakneck speed. His muscles, swollen with the power flooding him, tensed for the strike that launched like a missile in an arc he saw as perfect.
But to Raya's experienced eye, it was still too wide. His feet were too far apart, and though powerful, his punch was less than he could deliver due to a lack of commitment from the rest of his body's muscles.
—(So much wasted strength, unnecessary moves, punches lacking unity…)"
The old man ducked under the hook that whipped a gust of wind over his head, his deep gaze watching the boy fighting him with an emotion bubbling beneath his worn ribs.
Disappointment.
His darkened fist shot out like a viper toward Arlen's ribs, striking with a force that made his own arm tremble.
Contempt.
He pulled back at the exact moment a too-calculated kick could have shattered his abdomen if executed correctly.
Unease.
His foot rose as his own leg propelled toward Arlen's face at incredible speed in a flawless move. The wind, like a small whirlwind, whipped in every direction from the power generated by his worn body.
But then…
Longing.
His Haki failed, his bones groaned in protest, and Arlen stepped aside.
"Old man!" The tip of the boot grazed his chin as his rage-filled gaze clashed with the dim eyes of the old Marine.
The next second, his body spun like a tornado, muscles in his back and hips burning in protest against the sudden move as his arm unleashed a devastating punch.
Raya's torso was covered in a dense layer of his fluctuating Haki just before his knuckles made contact with flesh and then.
BOOM!
The blow, like a cannon shot, sent the old man flying uncontrollably across the battlefield, his body crashing and crushing everything in its path until he abruptly stopped mid-air with a loud kick to himself.
"(That was Geppo…)"
Arlen took a moment to catch his breath he hadn't realized he'd lost, his face tightening in annoyance as he turned away from the sun to look at Raya.
After two long hours of fighting, the old man had finally made another slip. For him, it was surprising to see how someone so old could move and hit like Raya did, but after all, there were other precedents in the world like Garp and Whitebeard.
In this world, being old didn't always mean being harmless.
For two hours he had been enduring and dodging a barrage of blows while struggling to even touch the Vice Admiral, a clear display of the skill gap between them.
His body, even after so much punishment, appeared to be in good condition. Scratches dotted some parts, but not a single drop of blood had fallen from his skin. The only alarming area was his abdomen, the skin intact, but underneath a growing bruise formed silently like a dark shadow spreading beneath the surface.
Raya had been relentless in punishing every part of his body, but without a doubt, he had concentrated most on that particular spot on his abdomen.
And Arlen wasn't foolish enough to overlook it. Raya must have realized that with his current physical power, it was impossible to pierce the natural defenses of his skin if he just struck without a plan.
"I understand, that's why you haven't gone all out yet," Arlen started walking cautiously, his mind urging him to attack while the pain from his previous blow still lingered in the old man, but he forced himself to stay calm. "(You want to take me out in one hit…)"
—Cough… so you noticed…— Raya coughed while clutching his chest in an attempt to ease the pain, his cracked sternum and bruised ribs aching.— You remind me of that brat from the kingdom of Vodka…"
He straightened with some sorrow in his still-slumped shoulders, his gaze fixed on Arlen. His breath escaped with difficulty, and each heartbeat stabbed a dull pain in his chest.
—Whether you know it or not…— he coughed.— …it changes nothing, little shit. How old are you anyway?"
His fists slowly rose in front of his now pain-wrinkled face. He was at his limit, having felt for a while how every bone in his body protested the blows he had dared to throw without considering his condition.
But could anyone really blame him? He was eighty-two years old, at the twilight of his life, and few were the occasions he had been away from Marineford since Garp, that foolish kid, told him to retire and leave the rest to him.
He had refused, and the monkey had laughed, then his activity declined while, without really wanting to, he let the new generation take on the heaviest of the seas.
—(Garp… that noisy brat).— Even in those moments, he would shout and laugh loudly in his head.
"Does it matter now?" Arlen replied with some irritation, a calm settling in his chest upon seeing Raya's state, a calm born from the thought that no one could give their all in such a condition no matter who they were. "Alright… fourteen, I'm fourteen."
His answer flooded the Vice Admiral's previously pain-wrinkled eyes with surprise, who tried to laugh but was stopped by a sudden coughing fit.
—(He's so young but already shows so much strength… so much potential, yes, no doubt about it…)— The cold calm suddenly invaded his body, a blood-stained smile appearing on his face as he pulled his hand from his lips.— There's no way I'll let you leave this island alive."
Puff! BOOM!
Arlen's eyes opened wide in disbelief as his brain tried to make sense of what it was seeing, but he was too slow.
The ground where Raya had been shattered in all directions, forming a web of deep cracks that almost reached him. In less than a second, followed by a sonic boom that swept away debris and nearby skirmishes, the Vice Admiral appeared in front of him with the aura of a titan.
His body, like a serpentine arrow. His arm swollen with a strength he shouldn't possess. His fist, covered by a Haki so dense that, even though his eyes couldn't see it, his body screamed for him to get away, that it was dangerous.
For the first time in his five years of true existence, Arlen felt the overwhelming feeling of danger.
And he loved it.
Because while his knuckles stopped mere millimeters from impact with his body and pressed the air formed between the small space of his abdomen and the fist, a dam that had held him back for too long broke under the pressure of his immense will.
Unconsciously, his own fist launched, full of power, toward the Marine's face as his abdomen blackened, an instinctive response born from the nearly unreal danger.
—TRUE… IMPACT!!!"
Raya shouted his attack with brutal determination.
Arlen smiled with primal emotion.
And then
The world seemed to explode.
.
.
.
To be continued.