Two Years Later…
The wind rolled in from the sea, warm and heavy with salt, brushing Allen's hair back as he stood barefoot on the cliffs near their home. The horizon shimmered with light, and the world felt so endlessly vast… yet strangely familiar. At just under four years old, Allen D. Walker had grown quieter lately—less chaotic, more thoughtful. And Serena noticed it immediately.
His growth had been swift. From the mischievous flame that once crawled through the house and caused minor explosions during tantrums, he had become more… composed. Not dull. No. Allen's mind burned brighter than ever—more like a furnace that had learned to temper itself.
Serena stood behind him, arms crossed, watching her son's back. Her Haki quietly brushed his, as it often did now. It had become a subtle way to check in—mother to son, soul to soul.
"You always come here when something's bothering you," she said softly.
Allen glanced back, offering a half-smile. "I heard the sea whispering last night again. Loud this time."
Serena walked up beside him. "And what did it say?"
He hesitated. "It's... calling. Not like before. It's like something's waiting. Like a thread tugging at my chest. My heartbeat feels weird sometimes. Fast."
Her gaze sharpened slightly, but her voice remained gentle. "Is it fear?"
"No," Allen whispered. "Excitement. But also... I think someone's crying. Somewhere. I don't know who, but they're scared."
The wind picked up.
That Morning…
The Walker household was in chaos. Again.
A silver-furred wolf with streaks of celestial blue launched across the breakfast table, snatching toast from Allen's plate mid-leap and landing with a graceful thump on the floor. His golden eyes glinted with pure mischief.
"BORO! I will skin you and turn you into a rug!!" Serena bellowed, chasing the wolf with a ladle in hand.
Allen laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. "Too slow, Mom! He's a beast-class fluff ball!"
From her high chair, Selene (now a wild two-and-a-half-year-old herself) was gleefully launching fruit at both of them. Her war paint? Jam. Her ammo? Grapes.
The wolf gave a cocky little yip, wagging his tail and nudging Selene's foot affectionately before swiping another sausage from the table.
"Allen D. Walker!" Serena roared. "Control your demonic pet!"
"He's not a pet!" Allen grinned. "He's my brother!"
"More like your shared brain cell," Hades muttered, watching the carnage while sipping his tea.
"You married me, remember?" Serena tossed back with a smirk.
Selene, now riding on Boro's back like a tiny warlord, squealed with laughter. "I'm the fluffy queen!!"
Later That Afternoon…
The laughter faded into rustling leaves and the distant call of seabirds. Allen walked toward the family's private training ground, Boro padding silently beside him, steps perfectly in sync. The wolf's aura pulsed faintly with his—wild, loyal, ancient.
Serena stood at the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed but her expression soft. "You're sure?" she asked.
Hades nodded beside her. "It's time."
Allen stepped into the circle. His red headband fluttered slightly in the wind—Selene had picked it out. His eyes gleamed with something sharper than before: resolve.
The wolf settled near the edge, tail curling around him like a silent witness.
Hades unsheathed a training sword reinforced with Seastone dust—a blade heavier than it looked.
"Show me what you've learned, my son."
Allen drew his own blade. And the moment they moved—
BOOM.
Their clash sent a shockwave through the clearing. Trees trembled. Dust kicked up in a swirl. The ground beneath their feet cracked slightly—not because of strength, but because of force of will.
Hades narrowed his eyes. "You've grown."
Allen grinned. "I haven't even started."
He slid low, blade flicking in a sweeping arc, a style mimicking Boro's hunting form. Hades blocked, but Allen twisted the blade—deflecting in a feint before striking with a reverse grip.
"Clever," Hades muttered. "But predictable."
He retaliated with a downward strike.
THOOM.
Allen skidded back, breath catching. That one… hurt.
Boro growled low, fur bristling.
Allen raised a hand. "No. He's my father. I have to do this."
Golden sparks began to dance across Allen's limbs—Haki, raw and unrefined, laced with something older.
A future.
A memory.
A fire waiting to be born.
With a roar, he charged again. Not with strength—but with intention. Every strike told a story: his dreams, his fears, the people he hadn't met yet, the pain he hadn't faced. All of it, behind every swing.
Their final clash shattered the silence.
CRACK!
Hades' sword went flying from his hands.
Allen stood, chest heaving, blade still steady.
Then, slowly, he dropped to his knees.
Boro rushed to his side, nuzzling his shoulder.
Serena covered her mouth, eyes misty.
Hades approached and extended a hand.
"You've already surpassed me," Hades muttered, a rare, crooked smile tugging at his lips.
Not in strength... not yet.
But in the way you carry your fire—with kindness, not carnage. That's something I never could do.
Allen took it, smiling through the burn in his arms.
"I did it…"