Year 1508 of the Sea Calendar. The East Blue.
The dim sky merged with the abyssal sea. A violent storm raged, hurling up monstrous waves across the dark waters and painting a scene so desolate it felt like the end of the world.
Beneath a ceiling of thunderheads and flashing lightning, Louis unfurled his snow-white wings. Fire ignited behind him, roaring like twin vector engines as it hurled him forward at supersonic speed.
A blazing contrail burned across the heavens. The sky shuddered with explosive sonic booms.
The tempest, the sheets of rain, the crisscrossing lightning did nothing to dampen Louis's fighting spirit. He lifted his chin proudly, like a comet-dragon tearing through the void.
The Wings of the Moon Goddess and the flames at his back granted him the basic form of a living comet, and he pursued that ideal tirelessly.
His defenses far exceeded those of his kin. More than that, he could flawlessly replicate the technique known as "Lovely Star Flight Creation."
As he streaked across the sky, Louis lowered his head and gazed toward a direction blurred by rain. A thoughtful expression crossed his face.
"Stronger than Biacurton… So Bar stands above even the New World?"
Within the vast range of his Observation Haki, he had detected an overwhelmingly powerful presence. It surpassed even the rare dual-Haki wielders among his people, fighters who could use two types of Haki with astonishing mastery.
From that alone, Louis judged he was near the New World, the latter half of the Grand Line.
"Better to avoid it."
He adjusted his trajectory, gradually distancing himself from that formidable aura.
Soon after, Louis pierced straight through the storm wall that stretched to the horizon. The spiraling clouds gave way to a sea washed in sunlight.
Before him lay an endless expanse of blue. Excitement surged through his chest.
In this life, Louis had been born in Bar, a mobile sky island drifting above the Grand Line. It was home to a branch of Sky Islanders and a reclusive group known as the Lunarians, who lived together in quiet isolation.
After being reborn into the world of pirates, his mother named him Louis. Some of the older Lunarians preferred to call him Artetshu.
He was ten years old. Male. Interested in women.
He possessed the powers of the Paramecia-type Life-Life Fruit.
Before his birth, he had once been bound to a system, the standard companion of transmigrators. Yet the moment it heard his name and the word "Bar," it uninstalled itself and fled.
All it left behind was the Blood of the Angel. It stained his skin, hair, and wings with a faint crimson sheen, altered his physiology into something unusual, and granted him a beginner's gift pack that, for now, remained utterly useless.
Louis understood why the system had left. It had pulled him from the grind of sleepless nights and relentless work, and for that alone he felt no resentment.
His talent was astonishing. His people called him a born monster, like the woman they had once read about in the newspapers decades ago, Charlotte Linlin.
He had awakened Observation Haki at birth. By age three, no child under ten in the tribe could match him. At six, he awakened Conqueror's Haki and once defeated a seventeen-year-old girl so thoroughly that she cried for two days. Even now, she still avoided him whenever their paths crossed.
The Lunarians to which Louis belonged were a queen-led race. About thirty of them lived on Bar. According to the elders, another forty resided deep within the Calm Belt. They communicated through secured relay Den-Den Mushi and exchanged members every three years.
Both tribes upheld an iron rule. No one was permitted to leave their homeland. Decades ago, they had nearly been wiped out when the World Government surrounded and suppressed them. They would not risk repeating that history.
Because of Louis's unusual temperament and potential, both sides eventually agreed to let him leave. He had grown rapidly among a group of visitors who had once passed through Bar.
Louis himself differed markedly from the typical Lunarian. His hair was light gold. His skin resembled that of an ordinary human. His wings were pure white as snow.
The tribe believed these differences came from his mother, a native of a sky island.
With the Paramecia-type Life-Life Fruit and the Rumble-Rumble Fruit combined, Louis could extinguish the flames at his back and disguise himself as a Mythical Zoan, Seraph-form user. He could maintain that appearance indefinitely.
…
After a long while, Louis beat his wings and rose higher. He pulled out a Vivre Card bearing the name Mr. Momora and adjusted his course toward the direction it indicated.
Mr. Momora had been one of the outsiders who had accidentally visited Bar decades ago. That year, they arrived unexpectedly. After a rather intense but ultimately friendly exchange, the Lunarians reluctantly received them as guests.
In time, the two sides grew close. The young man named Momora even left behind a Vivre Card, saying that if they ever needed help, they could seek him out.
Now, decades later, the tribe had entrusted that card to Louis, asking him to contact a suitable mentor through Mr. Momora to aid his growth.
Of course, that was only the tribe's plan.
Louis intended first to meet the person most closely connected to them, and then to seek out powerful opponents to fight.
Seeking guidance had merely been his excuse to win their consent.
In his view, no teaching surpassed battling the strong in the New World.
…
Not long after Louis departed, a three-masted ship bearing a skull flag emerged from the storm.
A red-haired young man wearing a straw hat, light stubble framing his jaw, and a curved blade at his waist lifted his head. He gazed with interest at the clouds torn apart by violent air currents and let out a low whistle.
"That flight speed… and that method. Even deep in the New World, it's rare to see something like that."
"Shanks, what happened?"
A gentle female voice drifted from the cabin.
The red-haired man turned toward the small head peeking out from the doorway. His expression softened instantly, his voice warm with affection.
"Nothing. Someone just flew over us."
Beside him, a slick-haired young man stepped out, a toothpick between his teeth. He looked up thoughtfully.
"That direction… isn't that the kingdom where your former captain caused such a stir?"
At that, the red-haired man fell silent. His gaze deepened, his tone cooling.
"Yes. I wonder if that kingdom has settled down by now."
"Let's stop by and visit an old friend."
…
Under a clear sky, cold winds brushed streaks of white cloud. Cloaked in flame, Louis streaked across the heavens, ripping through cloudbanks and unsettling the very air.
Then he noticed it.
A large three-masted warship sailing across the blue sea below.
Its hull was painted blue-green. The upper deck was laid with solid timber, fitted so tightly there was hardly a seam. A massive sail emblazoned with a seagull insignia billowed from the towering mast, thick enough that several adults together could barely encircle it. Dark figures moved across the deck in disciplined coordination.
"A Marine battleship…"
High above, Louis narrowed his eyes.
His Observation Haki detected no particular threat.
A thought formed in his mind.
Sink it.
In the next instant, he altered course and dived at supersonic speed. One hand reached back and drew forth a steel spear.
As a Lunarian, he needed no reason to strike at agents of the World Government. If he could defeat them, he would.
The shadow of near-annihilation decades ago could only be cleansed by challenging those who enforced that power.
Undermining and opposing the World Government was simply one of the principles by which Louis chose to live at sea.
A terrifying sonic boom split the air.
Flames swallowed the massive battleship whole.
"Lovely Star Flight Creation!"