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Destruction Has Fallen
A quiet voice flows through the eerie silence before flames ignite on the horizon, consuming what remains of the city. The walls are shattered, soldiers' bodies torn apart, their forms distorted by black thorns piercing them from every direction. Blood pours between the rubble, mingling with ash, as smoke lashes at the darkened sky.
Beneath the debris, something stirs... A bloodied hand emerges with difficulty, pushing aside heavy stones. Someone is trying to rise.
"I never knew it would come to this..." the voice echoes again, laden with a mysterious regret.
The man steadies himself, his body exhausted, dust covering him, but he collapses to his knees, breathing heavily. Suddenly, an intermittent voice invades his mind, as if someone is trying to reach him:
"A... Akainu... Do... you hear me?"
He slowly lifts his head, whispering hoarsely, "Yes... I hear you."
The voice repeats, more fragmented, as if something is obstructing it:
"How... much time... left?"
Akainu blinks rapidly, staring at his trembling hand... Three black whirlpools spin slowly above his skin.
He mutters anxiously, "Damn... not much time left."
He attempts to rise, pain tearing through his limbs, blood dripping from him, but something freezes him in place.
Heavy footsteps shake the ground...
His body trembles uncontrollably, he turns slowly, his eyes widening in utter shock.
A foot steps forward...
A torn cloak sways with the winds of devastation...
The fog gradually dissipates, revealing eyes ablaze with the color of blood.
Behind him, massive, distorted beings, not human. Their colossal bodies wait, moving slowly like predators in a cage, poised to pounce, awaiting the signal.
A calm voice rises, yet filled with lethal certainty:
"Everything is over... this is the last chance."
Akainu's body stiffens, he stares at him rigidly, before murmuring in a low voice, heavy with truth:
"We always had the power to resolve this... the choice was always theirs... but now? Now, everything ends... forever."
He presses his trembling hand... the black whirlpools ignite, emitting a strange light.
At that moment, (???) slowly raises his hand, his eyes glowing like embers, and with a single gesture...
The beasts charge!
The earth roars under their steps, their screams tear through the sky, heading toward him with blinding speed.
And Akainu?
Despite the wounds... he runs toward them
_______
Years Ago... he ran with the same madness. The market ground bleeds beneath his feet, soldiers' shouts chasing him: "The fugitive whose hands concealed the mark!" His silver hair gleams under the tongues of flame. Now... the beasts surround him... the black whirlpools explode from his palm... the same feeling... the same flight.
---
The sun carves its path across the horizon, its golden threads weaving through branches, painting the sky in gentle hues. Birds sing a soft tune, and the gentle breeze stirs the leaves with ease.
Amidst this tranquility...
A strong hand strikes suddenly!
Crack!
A piece of wood splinters under a sharp blow, some shavings scatter in the air. Sweat beads on his forehead, rolling down his cheeks, before he wipes it with his tattered sleeve.
He steps back slightly, sets the axe aside, rises slowly, takes a deep breath, and his eyes turn toward the sky...
He touches his left wrist with two fingers... where a black whirlpool disappears beneath the skin. His silver hair flutters with the wind, like a flame of moonlight... before it's subdued by years of blood.
And suddenly—
A bird darts swiftly!
It soars high, crossing over towering walls with golden engravings, older than time itself...
Massive gates open... and close...
Crowds surge... faces watch...
Markets buzz with life... but beneath it, something else pulses.
Before the gate... under the scorching sun, a man walks with a slight bow, his shoulders burdened with a basket full of wood. His steps are calm, measured, as if counting every speck of dust beneath his feet. Sweat drips from his brow, flowing down his cheeks, before he wipes it with his torn sleeve.
The voice returns again, calm yet tinged with unmistakable bitterness:
"I'm just a farmer... a simple worker, of the lowest rank in the kingdom, the Alpha rank where the weak gather, where hope is erased before it's born."
His eyes never leave the horizon... there, the great wall looms like an extended shadow, as if a mountain of stone, standing as a dividing line between two worlds.
"This is not just a wall... it's the barrier between paradise and hell. Behind it, where people are called humans, nothing but luxury and beautiful life, where one is judged only by the purity of their blood... but here, even the air is tainted with weakness."
At the gate, soldiers stand firm, their eyes scrutinizing every approaching figure. Newcomers raise their sleeves, revealing marks etched into their skins. Some marks are incomplete... and their bearers? Pushed back, kicked like stray dogs.
He steps forward, halting before the guard. Cold eyes examine him, then the usual question comes:
"Your identity?"
He pulls out a paper, handing it to the soldier. The latter looks at it, his eyes slowly scanning the name written on it.
"Tendo Akainu... age 16... Alpha rank."
A mocking laugh escapes his lips, short but dripping with disdain. He waves the paper slightly before returning it to him with contempt.
"Another one from that rank? Shame on the kingdom!"
He turns his face slightly, then raises his chin sharply:
"Show me the mark on your hand."
Slowly, he lifts his sleeve... revealing the mark.
Completely black.
A moment of silence, the air around thickens, as if the earth itself has stopped spinning.
The guard's eyes narrow for a moment... then he turns to the higher commander, awaiting a signal.
The response comes swiftly, without hesitation:
"He's authorized. Let him in."
His identity is returned to him, he takes it without looking at it, steps toward the gate which opens with a heavy creak, its sound echoing as if moving away from a world that was never his.
He places his foot inside the kingdom, and before the gate closes behind him, the voice whispers words:
"When sin is given a face, it's worshipped as fate... but I wasn't born to be a slave to fate."
To be continued...