Leo fled through the dungeon's suffocating depths, his legs burning with every desperate stride. The cavern's jagged walls loomed like the jaws of some ancient beast, the violet mana haze clawing at his lungs with every ragged breath. His heart thundered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat drowning out the world as the Shadow Wyrm King's thunderous footsteps pounded behind him. Each crash of its claws against the stone sent tremors through the ground, a relentless promise of death closing in. Sweat stung his eyes, and his torn jacket flapped wildly, snagging on protruding rocks. The air grew thicker, the wyrm's guttural roars reverberating off the walls, a sound that chilled his blood and spurred him onward. He was running for his life, a blank orphan with nothing but a fading hunter card and a secret in his pocket.
Flashbacks assaulted him mid-flight, vivid and unrelenting. He saw himself by the river, the gentle lapping of water a stark contrast to now, casting his line with a quiet hope that had sustained him through poverty. Then came the memory of Gate 7—meeting Torin, his scarred face and fire-tattooed arm exuding confidence; Kael, twitching nervously with his dagger; Lin, her silent strength in those glowing gloves. They'd accepted him, a temp with no mana, and for a moment, he'd belonged. But those images twisted into horror—Lin's shield shattering, her body crumpling against the wall; Kael's scream as he was flung like a broken toy; Torin's agonized cries as the wyrm tore him apart. The brutality replayed in his mind, each death a dagger to his soul, fueling his terror as he ran.
A sudden jolt yanked him from his thoughts. His foot snagged on something soft and yielding—a monster's corpse, its scales cold and slick with congealing blood. Leo pitched forward, crashing to the cavern floor with a cry that echoed off the walls. Pain exploded in his knee, a sharp stab that radiated up his leg as he clawed at the ground, desperation fueling every movement. He rolled onto his back, panting, and saw the wyrm towering above him. Its crimson eyes glowed like twin infernos, its maw dripping with the blood of his teammates, jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. The beast's shadow engulfed him, a suffocating shroud of doom. This was his end—alone, orphaned, a failure in a world that had never wanted him. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt as he pressed against the cold stone, his body trembling uncontrollably.
"Please," he whispered, voice breaking in the silence. "Someone… anyone… save me." It was a prayer born of pure terror, a plea to a universe that had offered him nothing but hardship. The wyrm reared back, its roar shaking the cavern, dislodging rocks that crashed around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the killing blow, his mind a whirlwind of regret—the Guild shelter's hunger, Mira's warnings, the dream he'd chased and lost. His hand brushed his pocket, and the ring's warmth flared, a faint lifeline in the darkness. The narrator's voice from his dream echoed faintly: "Three times a day, their might is yours…" The ring! He'd forgotten it in his panic. Maybe… maybe a last try?
With shaking hands, he tore the ring from his pocket, its etched surface glowing with an otherworldly light. He forced it onto his right hand, the metal fitting as if molded for him. The warmth surged, spreading through his veins like wildfire. "Help me!" he screamed, his voice raw, a final cry into the abyss. The cavern trembled as a surge of energy coursed through him, foreign and exhilarating. A faint voice whispered in his mind, calm yet cryptic: "Power granted: Usopp, from One Piece." The name meant nothing to him—no tales, no legends—but the power was real. His arms tingled, and a strange, cocky confidence welled up, not overwhelming but enough to cut through his fear.
Instinct took over. His hands moved of their own accord, grabbing a nearby rock. To his astonishment, it transformed into a makeshift slingshot, its band taut with mana-infused energy, glowing faintly in the gloom. The wyrm lunged, its claws slashing toward him, and Leo rolled aside, the air whistling where he'd been. His heart raced as he scrambled to his feet, the slingshot trembling in his grip. This was Usopp's power—modest, a trickster's art rather than a warrior's might, but it was his only chance.
"Take this, you overgrown lizard!" he shouted, loading a pebble into the slingshot. His aim was shaky, guided by an unfamiliar skill, and he released it with a cry. The pebble streaked forward, glowing with a faint trail, and struck the wyrm's left eye. The beast roared, recoiling as black ichor oozed from the wound, its head thrashing in pain. Encouraged, Leo's fear morphed into a desperate resolve. He grabbed another rock, and it too transformed into a barrage of small pellets. With a wild yell, he fired, the pellets peppering the wyrm's scales, chipping away at its armored hide. The power wasn't strong—Usopp's marksmanship relied on precision and pluck, not brute force—but it was enough to keep the beast at bay.
The wyrm thrashed, its claws raking the ground, sending shards of stone flying. Leo dodged, his movements clumsy but driven by adrenaline. The cavern shook with each of the beast's strikes, dust raining from the ceiling as it grew angrier, more reckless. He circled, heart pounding, firing relentlessly. The slingshot's mana glow dimmed with each shot, a sign that Usopp's hour was ticking down, but Leo pressed on. The wyrm's roars weakened, its movements slowing as the pellets found weak spots—under its jaw, along its flank. Blood dripped onto the floor, pooling around the monster's feet.
With a final surge of defiance, Leo spotted an opening—its maw gaping as it roared in frustration. He loaded his last pebble, his hands steadying as if guided by Usopp's spirit. "This ends now!" he bellowed, releasing the shot. The pellet glowed brighter than before, streaking true into the wyrm's throat. The beast choked, its body convulsing violently. It reared up one last time, then crashed to the ground with a thunderous boom, the cavern trembling as its massive form went still. Silence descended, broken only by Leo's heaving breaths and the faint drip of water.
He sank to his knees, the slingshot dissolving into dust as the ring's glow faded. The power ebbed away, leaving him exhausted but alive. He stared at the ring, its etched patterns dull once more, the weight of what he'd done settling over him. Usopp— whoever he was—had saved him, not with godlike strength but with a cunning edge he'd never imagined. The wyrm's corpse lay defeated, its crimson eyes dimmed, a testament to his survival. He took it's mana core. A heavy stone looking rich though he never touched that before.
The cavern's exit flickered open, a faint light beckoning him back to New Arcanis.