Elbaf, New World
The throne room of King Harald, ruler of the giants of Elbaf, was a monumental chamber carved from the heart of a colossal mountain. Its vaulted ceilings seemed to scrape the heavens, supported by intricately carved pillars depicting the glory and tragedies of the giant race.
The stone walls bore scars of countless battles and celebrations, their surfaces polished by the ages yet still resonating with echoes of the past.
At the room's center blazed a raised fire pit, a roaring inferno as tall as a human castle. It was a symbol of Elbaf's unyielding spirit and strength, its embers swirling upward toward an oculus in the ceiling that allowed smoke to escape into the crisp mountain air.
The golden light bathed the room in a flickering glow, casting long, shifting shadows that gave the space an otherworldly, almost oppressive atmosphere.
At the far end of the room stood the giant king's throne, hewn from a single massive tree, its roots and branches carved into ornate patterns resembling the world tree, Yggdrasil.
Furs from legendary beasts draped its seat, while its armrests were embedded with gemstones that shimmered faintly in the firelight. Seated upon it was King Harald himself—a towering figure whose sheer presence seemed to weigh down the room.
Harald's braided silver beard reached his chest, a testament to his centuries-long reign. His piercing blue eyes, like shards of glacial ice, betrayed both his wisdom and the weariness of an ancient ruler who had borne the weight of countless decisions.
His massive frame, clad in ceremonial armor etched with the runes of his ancestors, radiated an aura of unyielding power. But tonight, his gaze was shadowed, troubled as it rested on his youngest son.
Before him stood Prince Loki, a striking figure with a mane of fiery red hair that tumbled down his back like a cascade of flame. His eyes, a sharp emerald, burned with intensity, but tonight they glimmered with something darker—a growing resentment, a flicker of defiance.
Loki's presence filled the room, his broad shoulders squared, his fists clenched as his voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"Father… Why won't you tell me what I need to know?" Loki demanded, his words echoing through the usually boisterous hall, now eerily deserted.
The rowdy laughter and revelry of the giants were absent, replaced by the suffocating tension between father and son. "That treasure is my birthright. If it's going to be mine, why keep it a secret even from me?"
Harald's icy gaze bore into Loki, a silence stretching between them like the expanse of the sea. The king leaned forward, his fingers tapping on the armrest of his throne.
"Since when did you become so entitled, Loki?" Harald's deep voice resonated like the groaning of the earth itself.
"Have you forgotten that being called a prince doesn't mean you can overrule your king? Or have you convinced yourself that the treasure of Elbaf is yours simply because you demand it? What makes you so certain it isn't meant for your elder brother—or even your sister?"
Loki's jaw tightened at the mention of his siblings, but his pride kept him standing tall. His words were measured, but his anger seeped through.
"Hajrudin doesn't want it. And Dora? She's still too young to understand its value. It belongs to me, Father. I'm the one with the strength to wield it. The one who will lead our people to greater heights. Why can't you see that?"
"Enough." Harald's voice cracked like a whip, silencing his son. His gaze sharpened, studying Loki with the precision of a seasoned warrior sizing up an enemy.
"You've changed, boy. This obsession with the past… these taboo tales you've been digging into. It's unlike you. What has twisted your heart so? Who has planted these dark seeds in your mind?"
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the fire crackling like the heartbeat of the hall itself. Loki opened his mouth to respond, but his elder brother, Hajrudin, stepped forward, his deep, even voice cutting through the tension.
"Father, if Loki thinks it's so important, why not let him have it?" Hajrudin, taller and broader than Loki but with a gentler demeanor, scratched his blond beard thoughtfully. His kind eyes looked between his father and brother, his tone calm but imploring.
"I've no interest in fighting for something I don't need. And I'd rather this not tear our family apart."
Harald's gaze softened slightly as it shifted to his eldest son. Hajrudin had always been a pillar of kindness and restraint, a stark contrast to Loki's fiery ambition.
"You may not want it, Haji, but your little sister has as much right to it as either of you. Or do you think Loki's stubbornness is reason enough to hand it over?"
The mention of Dora, the youngest of Harald's children, brought an uncharacteristic quiet to the room. Even Loki's fiery demeanor simmered as he looked down. Dora, beloved by all, was a beacon of joy in their family. Despite his growing frustration with his father, Loki's heart still held warmth for his siblings.
"Father, Dora is still a child. She wouldn't even know what to do with such power. The treasure is meant for the strongest giant, and you know that's me."
Harald's eyes narrowed, his suspicion deepening. There was a darkness in Loki, a shadow that hadn't been there before. It wasn't just ambition—it was something more dangerous, a festering wound that had taken root since his return from the recent raid. Someone, or something, had planted seeds of doubt and greed in his son's heart.
"Loki... You were once my pride and still are. But now? You've changed. This obsession of yours—it reeks of something foreign, something unworthy of a giant prince."
"We'll discuss this when your sister returns," Harald declared firmly. "This treasure isn't something to be claimed through words or demands. It is bound to Elbaf's legacy—a legacy you seem to misunderstand, Loki. Strength alone does not make one worthy. Remember that."
Loki's teeth ground together, his pride wounded. He had uncovered whispers that the treasure was something related to a Devil Fruit, a power coveted even among the strongest of beings. If his father refused to tell him, he would uncover its secrets himself.
"Fine. We'll discuss this when Dora returns." His voice was cold, but the fire in his heart burned hotter than ever. If his father wouldn't give him the truth, Loki vowed to uncover it himself.
As Loki turned to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty hall, Harald watched him with a mixture of sorrow and resolve.
"Loki, be careful of the path you tread. Not all legacies are meant to be uncovered, and not all power is worth the cost."
Loki's jaw tightened. He wanted to argue, to shout, but he knew it would be futile. Harald wasn't going to yield tonight. With a sharp breath, he straightened, his golden eyes hardening.
Strength was the law of Elbaf, and Loki was determined to prove that he was the mightiest of Harald's children, the rightful heir to the treasure.
"This isn't over, Father," Loki said, his voice quieter but laced with resolve. Without another word, he grunted and strode from the throne room, the flickering firelight dancing across his retreating form.
As Loki reached the threshold of the grand hall, his father's voice rumbled once more, low and commanding, carrying the weight of authority that had ruled Elbaf for centuries.
"Loki."
The youngest prince paused, his broad shoulders stiffening. He didn't turn, but the tension in the room thickened as Harald's next words came, sharper than the frost-laden winds that swept the mountains of their homeland.
"Did you accept the invitation to Linlin's gathering?"
The question was simple, but the undertone of anger and disappointment reverberated like the deep toll of a bell. Harald's ice-blue eyes narrowed, piercing the back of his son with the intensity of a predator's gaze. He already knew the answer. Loki's recent defiance and the whispers among the court had left little room for doubt.
The firelight crackled in the heavy silence, illuminating the carved stone of the throne room as if casting judgment.
"You've disobeyed my decree, haven't you?" Harald continued, his voice colder than the snow-covered peaks that surrounded Elbaf.
"I warned you, Loki. I forbade any ties with Linlin or her brood. The grudge our people bear against her is older than you can comprehend, deeper than the ocean's abyss. And yet, you went behind my back."
Loki turned his head slightly, his sharp profile illuminated by the flickering fire. His emerald eyes glinted, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"What of it, Father? Shall we continue to cower behind old grudges and ancient fears? Since when did the mighty giants of Elbaf tremble before mere pirates?"
Harald's fist slammed against the armrest of his throne, a thunderous crack echoing through the chamber, but Hajrudin was quick to intercept the King's wrath.
"Father…! Please.." Hajrudin pleaded but Harald's gaze was set upon his youngest son.
"Linlin isn't what you think!" he bellowed, rising to his full, colossal height, his imposing shadow stretching across the hall.
"She's no mere pirate. She's a viper cloaked in promises, cunning and treacherous beyond your reckoning. Her outward appearance is a facade—a mask hiding something far more dangerous. You've been blinded by your pride, Loki, and that blindness will cost you dearly if you don't listen to reason."
Loki's smirk faltered, but only for a moment. He turned fully now, facing his father. "Blinded? No, Father. I see more clearly than ever. You call it pride, but I call it purpose. You speak of Linlin's cunning as though it's something to be feared. I see it as a challenge."
He stepped forward, the fire casting his face in sharp relief, shadows dancing like harbingers of the turmoil within.
"You speak of grudges, but I see stagnation. We were gods once, Father—gods who ruled this world with strength and honor. And now? Now we skulk in our mountains, hiding behind stories and decrees, forgetting the might that made us great. What kind of legacy is that?"
Harald's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as Loki's words struck a nerve. The young prince's ambition burned fiercely, but it was reckless, untamed—a wildfire threatening to consume all in its path.
"You think you see clearly, Loki, but you're blind to the web Linlin spins." Harald's voice was measured now, but it carried a palpable edge of warning.
"You do not understand the true cost of aligning with her. Do you think her interest in you is genuine? It isn't. It never was. All these years, we've held our hand because of respect for Carmel, the woman who once seemed to champion our people. But now? Now we know the truth. Carmel's kindness was a farce, a ploy to gain our trust and sell our children like cattle."
Loki's confident smirk vanished entirely, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty at the sudden revelation; the information that had been shared by the Donquixote was kept a secret so as to not create unrest within Elbaf.
"What…?"
Harald's expression was grim, his voice filled with the weight of revelation. "That's the truth of Carmel. That's the truth of Linlin. They were never friends of Elbaf. Carmel used us, and Linlin betrayed us. You think yourself wise, but you play into the hands of a woman whose only loyalty is to herself. She would see Elbaf burned to the ground if it served her ambitions."
The young prince faltered for a moment, but then his pride reasserted itself, his hands clenching into fists. "Even if what you say is true, it changes nothing. Fear has kept us chained, Father. I refuse to live in chains. I will face Linlin on my terms. I will not cower like you, clinging to ancient wounds. If we're truly gods, as you claim, then let us act like it."
Harald stared at his son, his eyes reflecting not anger but sadness—a profound sorrow for the path Loki seemed determined to take. "And what of your family, Loki? What of Hajrudin? Dora? Will you drag them into this darkness with you? You may call it bravery, but I see folly. Your pride blinds you to the consequences of your actions."
For a brief moment, Loki's resolve wavered, his thoughts turning to his siblings. But his ambition, his burning need to reclaim what he saw as the glory of Elbaf, drowned out his doubts.
"If you won't act, Father, then I will." Loki's voice was steady now, his gaze unyielding. "You may call me reckless, but I'll show you what it means to be a giant."
With that, he turned and strode out of the throne room, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him.
Harald remained standing, his hands resting on the arms of his throne. He stared at the fire for a long time, its flickering flames reflecting the turmoil in his heart. Loki's words had cut deep, but it wasn't the defiance that troubled him most—it was the shadow he saw growing in his son's heart, a shadow that threatened not only Loki but the future of Elbaf itself.
*****
"Sai Dai Rin: Rokuogan"
The words left my lips like a whispered storm, but the force that followed was anything but gentle. My double-fisted strike connected squarely against Lucci's hybrid form, a resounding impact that echoed across the massive ship's deck and beyond.
The blow sent him flying like a cannonball, his lithe body cutting through the air. I had held back my strength, ensuring he wouldn't suffer serious harm, but the sheer power behind the attack left no room for doubt—it was devastating.
Lucci's form spiraled toward the edge of the deck, dangerously close to the boundaries. Before he could cross them, I moved. Soru, coupled with the crackling of lightning, brought me behind him in an instant.
But Lucci, ever the prodigious talent, didn't falter. Using the momentum of his flight, he twisted mid-air, launching a vicious roundhouse kick. His leg, coated with Haki, cut through the air with deadly precision. I caught it with ease, locking his leg in a vicelike grip. For a moment, I saw frustration flash in his golden eyes, but he wasn't done yet.
He swung his other leg upward, aiming for my chin. A feint.
A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. He doesn't understand how far into the future I can see. My mastery of Observation Haki allowed me to perceive his intentions long before his body moved.
I prepared to counter, but the real attack came from an unexpected source. Lucci opened his mouth wide, unleashing a guttural roar. A dazzling beam of concentrated energy erupted from his jaws, racing toward me like a streak of destruction.
I tilted my head slightly, letting the beam whistle past me harmlessly. It soared into the ocean beyond, detonating with a deafening bang. The explosion sent waves surging, rocking even the gargantuan ship we traveled on.
At the bow of the ship, Dora, who had been casually fishing for Sea Kings, turned her head toward us. Her violet eyes narrowed with annoyance, her thick auburn hair whipping in the ocean breeze. She exuded the calm yet dangerous air of a predator, a stark contrast to the mayhem we had just unleashed.
"You two done ruining the peace?" she muttered, her deep voice laced with distaste. Without waiting for an answer, she returned to her oversized fishing rod, a testament to her giant physique.
The skeletal crew aboard the ship, a group of hapless sailors tasked with managing our vessel, cast nervous glances our way. They had been crying for days—not out of fear, but exhaustion.
Dora's relentless appetite and Lucci's training regimen had driven the kitchen into overdrive. With her giant form and Lucci pushing Semei Keikan to its limits, consuming a dozen super-sized Sea Kings in one sitting barely sated their hunger.
"Cough... Cough..." Lucci spat blood onto the deck, his breathing ragged. His once-pristine hybrid form—a ferocious blend of human and dragon with crimson scales overlaying his body—now appeared battered. His scales shimmered faintly in the sunlight, but they had done little to shield him from the internal damage my attack had inflicted.
I moved in a flash of lightning, reappearing on the ship's deck. Gripping him by the ankle, I lifted him with ease, holding him upside down. With a casual flick, I tossed him back onto the deck. Lucci landed on his feet, though unsteadily, before collapsing to his knees.
He clutched his midsection, his face twisted in pain. Though there were no visible injuries, his insides felt like they'd been shredded. It was a testament to his endurance that he hadn't passed out yet.
"Master..." he muttered, his voice strained. He knew I had held back, and that knowledge only deepened his frustration. How could he hope to reach my level when even a restrained attack felt insurmountable?
"Ouch!" Lucci yelped, snapping out of his thoughts as I flicked his forehead, my finger coated in a faint layer of Haki.
"Stop daydreaming, Lucci. All it takes to lose a battle is a single moment of distraction," I said, my tone firm but not unkind. Turning away, I strode toward Dora, who was still engrossed in her fishing.
Lucci followed me, his steps unsteady but his resolve unbroken. His frustration was palpable, but so was his determination.
"You've improved, but don't rely on your devil fruit too much; there are many known ways to bypass defenses such as yours." I said without looking at him. "And raw talent means nothing without control and focus. Remember that."
He didn't respond immediately, his mind clearly churning with thoughts about our bout. Finally, he spoke. "Master... you've grown so much stronger since your fight with Redfield. I—" He paused, unsure how to finish the sentence.
I glanced at him over my shoulder, a small smile playing on my lips. "Strength isn't just about power, Lucci. It's about understanding. Every fight, every loss, every victory—they teach us something. You're on the right path, but you still have a long way to go."
Lucci nodded, his expression a mix of frustration and respect. He clenched his fists, silently vowing to surpass his limits.
As we reached the bow, Dora hauled an enormous Sea King onto the deck with one effortless motion, the creature's massive form making the ship lurch slightly. She glanced at Lucci, a hint of a smirk on her lips.
"You look like you got mauled by a kitten, Lucci," she teased, her voice dripping with mockery.
Lucci scowled but said nothing. The storm in his eyes spoke louder than words. One day, he thought, I'll be strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the master.
The massive Sea King writhed and roared, its serpentine body thrashing against the deck with a force that made even the enormous ship groan in protest. Though Dora had reeled it aboard with her prodigious strength, the beast's sheer size was beyond anything the ship could contain—its bulk dwarfed the deck, and only a fraction of its form was visible above the surface.
The creature's beady eyes burned with primal defiance, but then its gaze locked with mine. In that instant, its survival instincts screamed louder than its fury. Thoughts of retaliation melted away like snow before a raging flame. It lunged desperately toward the ocean, seeking the safety of the depths. But it was too late.
As its colossal form hit the water, the sky itself seemed to shatter. A massive pillar of black lightning descended, as wide as hundreds of meters. The lightning cleaved through the heavens, striking the Sea King with devastating precision.
The sheer force tore through the beast's spine, splitting the ocean below as though an unseen hand had carved a canyon into the sea. Waves surged outward, crashing violently against the ship.
For a moment, the entire world was bathed in blinding light, followed by a deafening crackle that rolled like an endless roar of thunder. The aftershocks rippled across the ocean, lighting up the horizon with faint arcs of residual electricity.
If I hadn't passively acted as a lightning rod, drawing the energy to myself, the entire crew would have been reduced to smoldering ash.
As the tempest subsided, the pirates scrambled to the ship's railing, their faces pale but their curiosity insatiable. They peered into the churning depths, eager to see what had become of the Sea King.
Moments later, a massive shadow surged toward the surface. With a great splash, the beast's lifeless corpse broke through the waves, its sheer size dwarfing even the colossal vessel.
Before the body could sink back into the ocean, Dora leaped into action. Her oversized fishing rod lashed out, the hook embedding firmly into the creature's flesh. With practiced ease, she hauled the corpse closer and secured it with thick ropes, tying it to the side of the ship.
The crew, though seasoned in such feats, stood in awe. This was a ritual they had seen many times, but the sheer scale of it never failed to leave them breathless. Even Dora, whose appetite often defied reason, seemed pleased with her catch.
The plan was simple: tow the Sea King behind the ship and butcher it as needed. The scent of blood might attract other predators, but any who dared approach would meet the same fate—or end up as part of the banquet.
With the immediate task of securing the meal complete, Lucci approached me, his expression serious. I could tell he had been contemplating our earlier sparring session. There was a hunger in his eyes—not for food, but for understanding.
"Master... the attack earlier," he began, his tone steady but tinged with curiosity. "That wasn't internal destruction. So how did you manage to bypass my dragon physique? My scales should have absorbed most of the impact."
Dora, now reclining near the railing with her enormous fishing rod resting beside her, perked up. Fighting ran in her blood as a giant, and any talk of technique or training immediately drew her interest. She leaned forward, her violet eyes gleaming with anticipation.
I crossed my arms, letting a small smile tug at my lips. "Lucci, like I said earlier, there's more than one way to bypass a seemingly invincible physique. Against mythical Zoans like yours, having techniques that can exploit multiple weaknesses is invaluable. What I used earlier was the shockwave principle of the Rokuogan."
Lucci's brows furrowed in thought. "Shockwaves? But I didn't feel anything hitting my exterior... It felt like the force erupted inside me."
"Exactly," I said, nodding. "The Rokuogan is the pinnacle of Rokushiki, a technique that goes beyond simply breaking the body. It targets the very essence of a fighter's resilience—shattering internal defenses without leaving external marks."
I walked a few paces forward, the deck creaking beneath my feet as I continued. "You see, Rokushiki is more than just a set of flashy moves. It's the result of millennia of refinement by warriors who sought the ultimate balance of offense, defense, and mobility. Mastering it is not just about physical prowess; it's about understanding the art of combat on a deeper level. Each of the Six Powers holds layers of untapped potential."
I turned to face them, my gaze intense. "Take the basics. Soru isn't just speed; it's about movement so precise it disrupts an opponent's perception. Tekkai isn't just a hardening technique—it's a principle of channeling energy into a singular point of impact. Mastering these techniques isn't about imitation; it's about evolution."
Dora grinned, leaning back against the railing. "So what you're saying is, the Six Powers aren't as simple as they look. Figures. I'd be surprised if something so old didn't have hidden depths."
"Exactly," I said with a nod. "And let me tell you something else, Lucci. There's no shortcut to unlocking Haki. For most people in this world, the Six Powers are the closest thing to a roadmap. The rigorous training to master them often awakens the spark of Armament Haki—if you push yourself hard enough. That's why the Marines treasure these techniques so much. They're not just combat tools—they're keys."
Lucci's golden eyes narrowed, his determination hardening. "So the Rokuogan... It's more than just a simple technique. It's the culmination of everything learned through the Six Powers."
I smirked. "Now you're getting it. Don't underestimate these techniques, Lucci. What you felt earlier wasn't just an attack—it was the result of decades of mastery, honed to a razor's edge. Keep training, and one day, you'll understand the true depth of Rokushiki."
Lucci clenched his fists, his resolve renewed. "I'll master it, Master. I won't stop until I surpass you."
Dora chuckled, her massive frame shaking with laughter. "You've got a long way to go, kid. But if it means more sparring matches to watch, I'm all for it."
"Speaking of which, Dora, have you mastered Life Return yet?" I asked, my tone firm but encouraging.
"The more control you have over your body, the more powerful you'll become. As a giant, you're blessed with a physique others can only envy—don't let that go to waste."
Unlike Lucci, who had fully mastered the Six Styles, Dora was still stumbling, despite already being proficient in Armament Haki.
Turning to Lucci, I continued, "And you, Lucci, don't limit your mindset by the constraints of your human physique. You're a dragon now, so your appetite and ambition should match that. The sooner you master your dragon form, the sooner you'll step onto the next level."
"Understood, Master," Lucci responded, though he hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He wanted to ask something but seemed reluctant to voice it.
"Lucci, if you have something to ask, speak up," Dora interjected, her tone unusually thoughtful. "Your questions might lead others to the answers they're searching for."
Lucci looked at me, his golden eyes burning with intensity. I waited patiently for him to speak. Finally, he said, "Master... do you think I can awaken Conqueror's Haki?"
The air grew still, the steady hum of the ship's engines and the occasional crash of waves against the hull the only sounds around us. Dora paused her fishing, curiosity sparking in her expression as she glanced between us.
"Conqueror's Haki, huh?" I said at last, my voice calm and deliberate.
"I won't lie to you, Lucci. That's not something you unlock through training alone. It's not a skill or technique—it's a reflection of your very essence. Your will, your spirit, your ability to impose yourself on the world. Only those born to stand above others can awaken it."
Lucci's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, absorbing my words. I began to pace the deck, my hands clasped behind my back.
"But here's the thing: Conqueror's Haki isn't just about ambition or raw power. It's about identity. Do you see yourself as someone who commands others? Who shapes the world around you rather than letting it shape you? No one—not even me—can teach you that. It has to come from within."
I stopped and turned to face him fully, my gaze sharp and unyielding. "The real question isn't whether you can awaken Conqueror's Haki, Lucci. It's this: do you believe you should?"