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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
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NEW SIVER MEMBERS:- King, An, Xiwan972, Neyday, J, Rui Monteiro, Alexandre Vareilles, zTheory
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ASTER! WAKE UP! HEY! YOU ARE NOT DYING ON ME! WE HAVE PEOPLE TO BURN! WAKE UP, YOU CRAZY, SCARRED BRAT!
The loud screeching echoed inside Aster's skull, which felt like it had been split open by an axe.
Aster gasped, his eyes snapping open.
He wasn't in the mud. He wasn't in the burning jungle. He was staring up at a wooden ceiling that rocked rhythmically. The smell of salt and antiseptic filled his nose, replacing the stench of blood and ash.
He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his shoulder forced him back down. His body felt heavy, leaden, wrapped in bandages.
Oh, good. You're alive!
Flamey's voice shifted from panic to a grumpy relief.
I was about five seconds away from trying to jumpstart your heart myself. Do you have any idea how boring it is inside an unconscious mind? It's just static and axe-swinging memories!
Aster blinked, his vision clearing. He turned his head.
Sitting on a wooden stool next to his bed was a man. He had wavy, strawberry-blonde hair, round glasses that reflected the lantern light, and a short, well-groomed beard. He wore a simple, open shirt and a long, dark coat.
Beside him, sitting on the edge of the bed, was a woman. She was beautiful, with long black hair and dark eyes. She held a lit cigarette loosely in her fingers, but her gaze on Aster was soft, filled with an aching concern.
Aster stared at them. For a second, his mind was blank.
Then, the memories hit.
Slice
The sound of the axe. The rolling head. The mud on Teach's dead face.
Silence
The sudden, absolute void where his parents 'songs' had been. The moment the Silver and Black-Red Haki vanished from the world.
Aster's breath hitched. His small hands clawed at the sheets. He looked at the blonde man, his eyes desperate, pleading for a lie.
"Was it..." Aster croaked, his voice a raspy whisper. "Was it... real?"
The blonde man didn't look away. He didn't offer false hope. His expression tightened, a shadow of deep pain crossing his face. Slowly, he nodded.
"It was real, kid."
The dam broke.
Aster didn't scream. He didn't rage. He just... crumbled. He curled into a ball, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and let out a low, keen wail of absolute misery. It was the sound of a four-year-old who had lost his entire universe in a single afternoon.
The woman moved instantly. She stubbed out her cigarette and pulled him into her arms. Rayleigh leaned forward, wrapping his arms around both of them. They held him as he shook, absorbing the tremors of his grief. They were strangers, but in that moment, they were the only warmth in a cold, dead world.
He cried for a long time. He cried until his throat bled, until there were no tears left, until he was just a hollow, gasping shell.
Finally, the sobbing subsided into hiccups. Aster pulled back, wiping his face with his bandaged arm. He looked at them, his golden eyes dull and red-rimmed.
"Who..." he whispered. "Who are you?"
The blonde man adjusted his glasses. "My name is Silvers Rayleigh. And this is Shakky."
Aster nodded slowly. The names meant nothing to him.
"I am," Rayleigh continued, his voice hesitant, "the First Mate... of the Roger Pirates."
The air in the small cabin froze.
Roger Pirates.
The image flashed in Aster's mind. The man with the mustache who had attacked his father. The man with the axe who had beheaded Teach. The laughing, cheering demons who had hunted him.
ENEMIES! Flamey roared in his head. ASTER! THAT'S THEM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!
Aster's sorrow vanished, replaced by a cold spike of murderous reflex. He ignored his injuries. He lunged, his hand reaching out, grasping for Crimson Abyss, which was leaning against the wall.
"You..." Aster snarled, his little flaring weakly.
"Easy!" Rayleigh didn't fight back. He raised his hands, palms open. "Easy, Aster. Listen to me. Just listen."
"You killed them!" Aster screamed, his fingers inches from the axe handle.
"Your crew! Your captain! You killed my brother! You killed my father! You killed my mother!"
"I didn't," Rayleigh said, his voice suddenly losing its calm, becoming raw and desperate. "I didn't, Aster. Before I was Roger's First Mate... before I was the 'Dark King'..."
He looked Aster in the eyes, and for the first time, Aster saw the wet shine of unshed tears in the older man's eyes.
"I was Xebec's best friend."
Aster froze. His hand hovered over the axe. "What?"
"We grew up together," Rayleigh said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "In the same orphan pit. We shared bread. We shared dreams. He was the loud, crazy dreamer who wanted the world. I was the quiet one who cleaned up his messes."
Rayleigh let out a shaky, bitter laugh. "We were supposed to sail together. But... he pushed me away. Years ago. He told me, 'Rayleigh, my path is going to be filled with monsters. I'm going to be the villain of history. You... you're too smart for that. You go find someone else. Be a shadow on another ship. Be my eyes where I can't see.'"
Rayleigh gripped his own knees. "He made me leave. To keep me safe. To have an ally in the shadows. I joined Roger... but I never stopped being his brother."
Aster stared at him. He used the Voice of All Things. He listened to the 'song' of Rayleigh's soul.
There was no deception. No lie. Just a deep wound of grief that matched Aster's own. The man was telling the truth.
"You..." Aster lowered his hand, his anger deflating into confusion. "You didn't betray him? Like his crew? Like the others?"
"Never," Rayleigh whispered. "I would have died for him. I wanted to fight beside him on that island. But..."
"But how did you find me?" Aster asked. "The Marines... they rescued me."
"Your mother," Rayleigh said softly.
Aster flinched at the mention of her.
"When the fight started... when she realized it was a trap..." Rayleigh reached into his coat and pulled out a small Vivre Card. It was burned at the edges, almost gone. "She sent a message. A voice. Through the Haki. She screamed one location into my mind. She told me where you would be. She told me the Marines had you. She told me to save you."
Rayleigh looked down at his hands. "I found the Marines in the jungle. Two brave men. They were dying, protecting you. I... I took you from them. Promising them I'd finish their mission."
Tears started flowing from Aster's dry eyes again.
Mom...
Even at the end. Even when she was dying. She had used her power to save him. She had found the one person in the enemy camp she could trust.
Shakky moved closer. She placed a hand on Aster's small back. "We might not be your parents, Aster," she said. "And we can never replace them. But you can count on us. You have nowhere to go. The World Government thinks you're dead. If you stay alone, you'll die."
She looked him in the eye. "You are free to live with us. We will hide you. We will feed you."
Aster looked at them. He looked at Rayleigh, who radiated a strength that rivaled the monsters of God Valley. He looked at Shakky, who felt sharp and dangerous but safe.
He had nothing. No home. No family. Just an axe and a spirit in his head.
...The blonde guy is strong, Aster, Flamey muttered. Like... really strong. If we want to burn the world... we need to learn how to strike the match. He can teach us.
Aster looked at Rayleigh. "Will you train me?"
Rayleigh looked surprised, then a small, sad smile touched his lips. "I used to train with Xebec. I can handle you."
Aster nodded. "Okay."
Shakky let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. She hugged him again, tight. "You won't regret it, kid."
She then turned her gaze to Rayleigh. Her eyes narrowed. The softness vanished.
"Rayleigh."
"Yeah?"
"You are leaving that damned crew," she stated. It wasn't a request.
Rayleigh looked at his coat. He looked at the Vivre Card of Xebec, now just a pile of ash in his hand. He thought of Roger, who had charged in for the 'fun' of it. He thought of the betrayal.
"Yeah," Rayleigh said, his voice heavy. "I'm done. The 'adventure' is over. I'm tired, Shakky. I just want... quiet."
"Good," she said. "We're going to Sabaody. We'll open a bar. We'll raise the kid. And we'll stay the hell away from 'Kings' and 'Gods'."
Rayleigh nodded. He then reached into the deep inner pocket of his coat.
"There's one more thing," he said.
He pulled out a thick, leather-bound book.
"Your father... gave me this years ago," Rayleigh said, handing it to Aster. "He told me, 'If I ever die, and if my kid survives, give him this. It's the only inheritance I have worth a damn.'"
Aster took the book. It was heavy.
"It contains the true history," Rayleigh explained. "The history of the world. The history of your Fruit."
Aster opened the cover.
On the first page, there were two messages. They were written in two very different hands.
The first was elegant, flowing, and beautiful. His mother's handwriting.
My darling Aster,
If you are reading this, it means the worst has happened. It means I am not there to hold you, to guide you, to see the wonderful man you will become. I am so sorry.
I know you are hurting. I know you are angry. But please, listen to your mother one last time. Do not let the anger consume you. Do not let the fire burn your heart to ash. Your father was a great man, but he carried a heavy burden of rage. You do not have to carry it alone.
Remember the First Law: Survive. Live. Find joy where you can. Listen to the world, my little warrior. It is beautiful, even in its cruelty. I love you. I love you more than the sea is deep.
- Mom
Aster choked back a sob, his fingers tracing the ink. Below it was a scrawl. Sharp, jagged, aggressive strokes. His father's handwriting.
Kid,
If you're reading this, I'm dead. Probably fighting the whole damn world. Vohahaha!
Don't cry for me. I lived how I wanted. Now, it's your turn.
The world is a lie, Aster. The Government, the Marines, the 'Peace'... it's all a cage built by cowards to keep lions like us in chains. They will tell you that you are a monster. They will tell you that your blood is cursed.
Screw them.
You are free. That is your birthright. Do what you want. Be who you want. But be STRONG. Because in this sea, the weak don't get to choose. If you want freedom, you have to take it.
Read this book. Learn the truth. And then... show them. Show them who the hell we are.
- Xebec
Aster stared at the page. The grief was still there, a gaping hole in his chest. But now, alongside it, there was something else. A spark. A tiny, flickering flame of resolve, fed by his mother's love and his father's pride.
He turned the page.
The first line of the actual text was written in bold, ancient script.
The History: Sol Ragnarok
Aster's eyes narrowed. He read.
And the story of the Fire of Judgement began.
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