The sun broke over Dressrosa in a burst of pink and gold, tinting the once blood-soaked land with a splash of serene loveliness. The streets, still showing signs of the battle fought scant days before, buzzed again—this time not with fear but with life.
In the heart of the island, in the newly restored palace of the monarchy, Solian Flare stood atop the massive marble balcony, looking out into the city he had liberated. A soft gust of wind fluttered the cloak on his shoulders, the same red one that he wore during the defeat of Doflamingo. Below him, the people cheered his name, their voices reaching the sky.
Solian was not, however, looking at them.
They were part of the clutch of posters clutched against Vance's chest as he ran up the stairs, panting.
"Boss!" Vance shouted, barely managing to restrain himself, waving the pages. "You gotta see this!"
Behind him, Kael and Itachi approached with measured steps, their faces impassive but their attention unmistakable.
Vance slid to a stop, thrusting the top poster into Solian's hand.
Solian looked down upon the rough parchment, at the dark ink declaring his fate.
"Solian Flare – 2,800,000,000 Berries"
An unspoken, heavy silence enveloped them all for a moment. Even the wind stilled.
Solian's mouth quirked up into a slight, cunning grin.
"It was going to happen," he spoke softly, as if to himself more than the rest.
Kael stepped closer, pulling off the second notification from the stack.
"Itachi Uchiha – 1,100,000,000 Berries"
Itachi's black eyes narrowed by fractions as he glanced at the paper. He folded it once, and then stowed it away in his cloak without a word.
Vance was already flipping through the others, laughing like a madman.
"Vance Korr – 400,000,000 Berries"
"Kael Drest – 395,000,000 Berries"
"Ha!" Vance cried, punching the air triumphantly. "Beat you by five million, old man!"
Kael was silent. He simply gazed out over the sea, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
Solian retreated from the posters and gazed out over Dressrosa, where life blossomed anew.
These accolades were not just numbers.
They were a danger to the world.
The Solar Rift Pirates were no longer an emerging name—They were a tsunami, a merciless storm.
We Hunt, We Grow
That night, under a massive fire pit in the palace courtyard, the crew met.
Lords and citizens of the city had tried to organize an official celebration, but Solian had refused.
Tonight was for the crew, and only the crew.
Wood cracked. Sparks flew up into the dark air.
Solian stood before them, the dancing firelight casting shadows upon his face.
"We're powerful," he began, voice level and even, over the crackling of flames. "But power incites challenge. The World Government won't just sit back. The Emperors won't look away."
He looked around them, catching the eyes of each in turn.
"We can't just stay here, fat and content. We need more. Power. Experience. Assets."
He paused to allow the words to settle, then continued.
"We're splitting up. We'll each travel alone for five months. Hunt pirates. Vanquish threats. Collect what we need. Train. Grow."
A thrill of fear—and a dash of uncertainty—ran through the group.
Separation meant weakness. It meant faith.
But it also meant potential.
Itachi nodded first, slow and measured.
Kael folded his arms but nodded minutely.
Vance patted his chest with a wide grin.
"You got it, boss. I'll come back with a mountain of loot!"
Solian smiled.
"Just come back alive."
Setting Out
Morning came too early.
Ships waited in the harbor—swift, narrow, war-built.
Solian stood on the waterline, the brine-scented wind filling his lungs as home. The boat he'd chosen was smaller than his main vessel but optimized for speed and maneuverability, its black sails marked with the scorching sun crest of the Solar Rift Pirates.
The others were making ready their craft, the mood unusually subdued.
Vance batted Solian on the back forcefully enough to make a weaker man stagger.
"Five months," he said. "I'm gonna come back so rich you'll have to call me Captain Vance!"
Kael simply checked his sword straps and boarded silently.
Itachi paused beside Solian, dark cloak fluttering.
"Stay sharp," he said.
Solian grinned.
"Always."
The ships pulled away one by one, disappearing over the glittering horizon.
Solian remained on deck long after Dressrosa had vanished from sight, the steady creak of wood and snap of canvas filling the silence.
Out there, oceans were teeming with possibility—and danger.
He could feel it, searing within his own bones.
This.this is where heroes are forged.
Five Months of Fire and Blood
The Grand Line was unforgiving.
Solian's training was an apprenticeship of fire.
The first month was just survival.
Storms battered his vessel without mercy, waves pounding like famished beasts eager to devour him whole. His body toughened, his senses honed. His Observation Haki—already keen—started to develop.
At night, during the worst storms, he could glimpse it occasionally—a flash of the future, a half-second, at most.
A blade where there should have been nothing.
A fissure in the mast when it was ready to shatter.
He honed it ruthlessly.
The second month was conquest.
He assaulted pirate ships ruthlessly, but only against those who attacked the weak. His flames swept over their decks, incinerating those who stood against him. He mastered how to focus the Solar Rift's power into plasma—small to begin with, mere bursts—but lethal.
The third month was training.
He practiced in secluded bays and abandoned islands. His fists hardened. His legs faster. His Haki thicker on his person like a second skin.
He even began to sense it—the Conqueror's Haki spark, a sleeping dragon that stirred to life inside him.
The fourth month brought new enemies.
Bounty hunters. Pirate competitors. Even an assassination team of the World Government once. He left them all broken behind him, but not without sustaining injuries himself.
Every battle taught him something.
About power.
About control.
About restraint.
And about cruelty.
The fifth month was awakening.
The Solar Rift Fruit was a part of him—not an arm he employed as a tool, but an arm of his very being.
He learned how to wield its power in attacks, converting punches and kicks into streams of fiery plasma.
At midnight, too, his presence shone with a gentle golden glow.
Across the Seas
He was not alone.
Myths across the Grand Line spread of a swordsman clad in black flames—Itachi—who left pirate strongholds in destruction.
A silent warrior, Kael, who struck down pirate crews in a single blow no one ever witnessed.
And a rumbling demon, Vance, who plundered treasure fleets and cackled as cannons thundered vainly against him.
The Solar Rift Pirates were not just expanding.
They were becoming legends.
Return to Dressrosa
On the fifth month morning, Solian stood at the bow of his ship once more, Dressrosa's rocky shores rising in the distance.
His body was different now.
Denser.
Stronger.
Deadlier.
The sea wind blew across his face, carrying a hundred bits of rumor and counsel.
He knew beyond all doubt—
The world had no concept of what was about to strike them.
And it was already too late.
He grinned, his fingers snapping with fire as he homed in on home.