The scorching sun beat down on the barren landscape of the Red Line, its rays reflecting off the charred earth that once served as the sacred homeland of the Lunarians. Amidst the desolation, a small boy stood alone, his fiery red hair blowing in the wind, his eyes glowing with an intensity that matched the burning sky. This was Aniki, the last hope of a dying race, born into a world that had already decided his fate.
"Why are we so different, Father?" Aniki asked, his voice trembling with the weight of a question that had plagued him since he could remember. The towering figure beside him, his father, Eshara, looked down with a solemn expression. His wings, as black as the night sky, flickered with embers as he considered his son's words.
"We are different because we are Lunarians, Aniki," Eshara replied, his voice deep and resonant. "Our flames are a gift from the gods, a symbol of our strength and our burden. But the world fears what it does not understand. They hunted us because they could not control us."
Aniki clenched his fists, the fire within him simmering beneath the surface. "But why, Father? Why must we always hide? Why can’t we show them our true power?"
Eshara placed a hand on his son's shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. "Power is not something to be flaunted, my son. It is a responsibility. And in the wrong hands, it can bring destruction. The world has forgotten that we once protected them, that we were their guardians. Now, they see us only as threats."
The young Lunarian’s eyes narrowed, his resolve hardening. "Then why don’t we remind them? Why don’t we make them see what we truly are?"
Before Eshara could respond, a piercing alarm echoed across the skies. The ground beneath them rumbled as shadows darkened the horizon. The World Government's fleet had arrived, a sea of ironclad ships advancing toward the last remnants of Lunarian civilization. Eshara’s wings flared to life, flames erupting as he prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
"Aniki, listen to me," Eshara said urgently, his voice laced with a rare sense of urgency. "You must survive. No matter what happens, you must carry on the Lunarian legacy. You are our future."
Aniki’s heart pounded in his chest, fear and anger warring within him. "But I want to fight with you! I can help!"
Eshara shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at his son. "One day, you will be strong enough to fight. But today is not that day. Today, you must live."
Before Aniki could protest, his father turned to face the approaching fleet, his flames roaring to life, a beacon of defiance against the encroaching darkness. "Go, Aniki! Run to the hidden passage and don't look back!"
Tears stung Aniki’s eyes as he watched his father charge into battle, a lone warrior against an army. The ground shook beneath him as explosions filled the air, but Aniki forced himself to turn away, sprinting toward the hidden passage his father had told him about. The sounds of battle faded as he ran, but the image of his father’s fiery silhouette remained burned into his memory.
As he stumbled through the darkened tunnels, Aniki’s mind raced with a thousand thoughts. He felt helpless, weak, and ashamed that he had left his father to face the enemy alone. But deep down, he knew that his father had given him a command—a command to survive. And he would obey.
Finally, he emerged from the tunnel into the open air, far from the battlefield. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his body trembling with exhaustion and grief. The once-proud land of the Lunarians was now a battlefield, consumed by flames and destruction. Aniki could only watch as the world he knew crumbled before his eyes.
"Father…," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant roar of the flames. "I promise… I will make them pay."
Years passed, and Aniki grew into a powerful warrior, his skills honed by the harsh trials of survival. He wandered the world, hiding from the prying eyes of the World Government, training in secret. The fire within him burned brighter with each passing day, fueled by the memories of his father and the destruction of his people.
One evening, as Aniki meditated on a remote island, he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, but he paused when a figure emerged from the shadows. It was an old man, hunched and weathered, his eyes gleaming with a wisdom that spoke of many years.
"You carry the fire of the Lunarians, boy," the old man said, his voice raspy but strong. "But I sense something darker within you as well."
Aniki narrowed his eyes, remaining on guard. "Who are you? How do you know about the Lunarians?"
The old man chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "I’ve lived long enough to know many things. The world may forget, but the earth remembers. I have been waiting for someone like you."
"Waiting for me?" Aniki echoed, suspicion lacing his voice.
"Yes, boy," the old man said, stepping closer. "I am the guardian of a power long forgotten by this world—a power that can give you the strength to reclaim your legacy."
Aniki’s eyes widened, the old man's words igniting a spark of hope within him. "What power? What do you mean?"
The old man smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "The Oni Oni no Mi, Model: Mephistopheles. It is a Devil Fruit of great power, a gift and a curse. But in the hands of one with your fire, it could reshape the world."
Aniki hesitated, his mind racing. He had heard of Devil Fruits—fruits that granted unimaginable power at the cost of one's ability to swim. But the idea of such a power was tempting, especially in his quest to avenge his people.
"What’s the catch?" Aniki asked, his voice guarded.
"The fruit will grant you strength, but it will also test you," the old man replied, his tone serious. "You must master the demon within, or it will consume you. But if you succeed, you will wield a power that can rival the gods."
Aniki stared at the fruit the old man held out to him, its swirling patterns almost hypnotic. The weight of his decision bore down on him. He thought of his father, of the promise he had made, and the burning desire for vengeance that had driven him all these years.
Finally, he reached out and took the fruit, feeling its strange warmth in his hand. "I’ll do it," he said, his voice resolute. "I’ll master this power and use it to fulfill my promise."
The old man nodded approvingly. "Then eat, and let the world tremble before the wrath of the last Lunarian."
Aniki took a bite of the fruit, the taste bitter and unnatural, but he forced himself to swallow. As the power surged through him, he felt a change within, a darkness awakening, but also a strength unlike anything he had ever known.
From that day forward, Aniki was no longer just a survivor—he was a force to be reckoned with, a warrior who would stop at nothing to reclaim his people’s honor and reshape the world in flames.
