Fin POV
Flames roared around me, their heat searing my skin as I burst through the front door of our burning farmhouse. Smoke filled my lungs instantly, choking me, and tears blurred my vision. The heat was nearly unbearable, but I forced myself to press forward.
"Helga!" I shouted over the roar of the flames. "Helga! Where are you?!"
No answer came, only the sinister crackling of burning wood and the suffocating smoke. Flames licked at the walls, crawling like living creatures across the ceiling. A section of the roof groaned ominously, buckling under its weight before collapsing, forcing me to dive aside as embers exploded outward.
I pushed forward, shielding my face with my arm. My Basic Cold Resistance was worthless here—I'd have traded it in a heartbeat for fire resistance right now. Using Observation Haki desperately, I reached out, searching for any sign of life within the raging inferno.
Then, suddenly, I sensed someone.
I whipped around, my senses narrowing sharply.
Not Helga.
Agatha.
She stepped out of the smoke, coughing heavily. Her face was streaked with soot, her usually neat brown hair dishevelled and scorched at the edges. Relief and confusion washed across her face when she saw me.
"Fin!" she cried, stumbling toward me. "Thank the gods—I thought—I thought they got you!"
My pulse quickened. "Agatha? What the hell are you doing here?"
She stopped a few feet from me, eyes wide and panicked. Her clothes were singed, soot smeared across her face and hands. "They came out of nowhere, Fin! People in cloaks—they attacked the farm. They took Helga. I barely got away, but I came back for you—"
Something felt wrong. Deeply, utterly wrong.
I narrowed my eyes slightly. My Observation Haki thrummed beneath my skin, sharply attuned to her emotions, her intent. Fear radiated from her—but not the right kind of fear. It was tense, sharp, deceptive.
I stepped backward cautiously, voice low and guarded. "Where is Helga, Agatha? Did you see them take her?"
Agatha's face twisted briefly in confusion, then she quickly recomposed herself, voice trembling slightly. "Yes! Yes, they dragged her away! She fought, but there were too many of them! They'll be back soon—we need to go, Fin, now!"
I shook my head slowly, my heart sinking. The flames crackled and popped behind her, and the orange glow cast her features into eerie relief. I reached out to my Haki again, feeling her emotions now: deceit, nervousness, betrayal.
She was lying.
"You're not telling me the truth," I said softly, slowly backing away further.
Agatha froze, eyes narrowing suddenly, her frightened demeanour slipping away into something darker. Her voice lowered, taking on a colder, sharper edge. "Why couldn't you just believe me, Fin?"
A surge of alarm surged through me. My heart raced. I instantly shifted my weight, preparing to move, muscles tense and ready. "Agatha—"
"You just had to make this difficult, didn't you?" she spat, her expression twisting in fury. Her hand shot forward, fingers glowing faintly as she whispered a short, sharp incantation. A burst of heat erupted toward me, a roaring ball of flame launching directly at my chest.
"Shit!" I dove to the side, narrowly dodging the attack. The fireball exploded behind me, scorching the wall and spreading the flames even further.
Agatha straightened, her façade fully discarded now. She looked down at me with contempt. "I warned her it wouldn't end well. If only she'd listened."
"What the fuck is this, Agatha?!" I snarled, heart hammering wildly. "Why are you doing this?"
She stepped toward me slowly, fire flickering ominously in her palms. Her voice was icy cold, contrasting the flames dancing around us. "Helga has something we want. Something she stole from us long ago. She thought she could hide forever, but no one escapes the master's reach."
My chest tightened painfully. "You're with the cult."
She smiled cruelly. "You catch on fast, don't you? But Mother won't save you now."
Fear surged through me, but I forced it down, gritting my teeth. The room was rapidly becoming unstable, the flames consuming everything around us. My options were limited—I couldn't beat Agatha in raw power, especially not with magic like this. But I didn't have to win. I just had to survive.
I activated Predator's Camouflage instinctively, blending into the thick smoke around us, attempting to vanish. I darted quickly around her left flank, trying to reach the door.
"Oh, Fin," Agatha mocked coldly, her gaze following my movement precisely. "Did you think such a simple trick would fool me?"
She hurled another blast of flame, this time aimed directly at my path. I narrowly avoided it again, the flames licking painfully close to my skin. The heat was dizzying, overwhelming.
"You can't hide from me, child!" Agatha's voice echoed cruelly, her figure illuminated by the dancing flames. "I've been watching you for years. You and your mother, thinking you were safe. How utterly naïve."
I gritted my teeth, feeling trapped. My eyes darted around for an escape route—then, my gaze settled on the beams supporting the burning ceiling above Agatha.
An idea formed quickly.
I surged forward, using Soru to accelerate. My sudden burst of speed startled her just enough to throw off her next spell, the flame veering wildly to the side. I landed a safe distance away, crouching low, my eyes never leaving hers.
"What's wrong?" she sneered. "No more tricks?"
"Oh, I've got plenty," I shot back, shifting my position carefully. My mind raced—my only hope was to lead her into her trap.
Agatha began chanting again, hands glowing brighter, readying for another attack. But before she could release it, I moved first. I launched myself upward using Soru, kicking hard against a burning support beam above me. It cracked loudly, showering the ground with sparks, and then came crashing down directly in front of Agatha, trapping her momentarily in a blaze of heat and smoke.
She screamed in frustration, the fire roaring louder as the debris blocked her path.
Taking the chance, I bolted for the doorway, emerging from the inferno into the cold, fresh night air. Smoke billowed out behind me as I collapsed onto the snow, coughing violently, trying desperately to catch my breath.
But there was no relief. I stumbled back onto my feet, turning to stare in horror at the burning remains of our farm. The only home I'd ever truly known was rapidly becoming ash.
A noise behind me had me spinning on my heels, my heart leaping into my throat. But this time, it wasn't Agatha—it was Helga, running from the trees toward me, her face pale and desperate.
Helga pulled me closer, holding onto me with a fierce grip that bordered on pain. Her breathing was ragged, and her eyes darted across the burning ruins of our farm, scanning the treeline, tense with vigilance.
"Are you hurt?" she asked softly, not taking her eyes off the shadows. "Tell me you're okay."
"I'm fine," I answered sharply, squirming slightly under her grip. "But, Agatha—she attacked me. She was with them, Helga. She knew about us the entire time."
Helga cursed softly under her breath, eyes darkening. "I should've known," she murmured, tightening her grip on my arm protectively. "We can't stay here. They'll—"
She didn't finish her sentence. Her body tensed abruptly, her head snapping toward the darkness beyond the smoke.
My Haki flared in warning, a sharp sting shooting down my spine. They were already here.
"Fin, stay behind me!" Helga barked, her voice suddenly authoritative, colder than I had ever heard it. Her hand instinctively reached for the sword at her hip—but found nothing. She froze, eyes widening slightly in disbelief.
"My sword..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
My heart sank. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a figure emerging from the shadows near the ruined farmhouse—clad in dark, heavy robes embroidered with intricate patterns I vaguely recognized from Helga's hidden chamber. In their hands, glinting ominously under the firelight, was the black katana—my father's soul, trapped within.
"Looking for these?" a voice sneered from behind a cloth mask, as the figure raised the the golden and darkened blades mockingly, their metals gleaming wickedly in the firelight. "Quite a sentimental piece, aren't they?"
Helga's jaw clenched visibly. "Put that down," she demanded, voice filled with barely restrained fury. "You have no idea what you're holding."
The figure laughed softly, dark amusement dripping from his voice. "Oh, we know exactly what it is. The master's essence still pulses within it. A shame you betrayed him, Helga. Your loyalty was once legendary."
Helga took a step forward, shielding me behind her body as four more figures emerged from the darkness, each wearing matching robes—dark red embroidery against deep black fabric. Each wore the same unsettling masks carved with sharp, cruel angles, obscuring all but their glittering, cruel eyes.
I felt my muscles tense, my heart pounding in my chest. They weren't just here for Helga—they wanted me. My fists clenched at my sides, knuckles whitening. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"Hand over the boy," another of them said, stepping forward, his voice calm and smooth. His robe was slightly different—lined with gold stitching that seemed to shimmer under the firelight. Probably a leader of some sort. "We don't want you, Helga. Just your son."
Helga growled protectively, her eyes blazing with fierce defiance. "You're never touching him."
The cultist chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly. "You don't understand. You have no choice. He's coming with us, willingly or otherwise. Our master demands it."
Helga's voice wavered slightly, desperation leaking through the cracks. "Please. Just let us go. Forget you saw us— anything. Just leave my son alone."
The leader shook his head slowly, a mocking sympathy colouring his voice. "You misunderstand. The master will have the boy, and you..." He smiled coldly beneath his mask. "You can watch. Or you can die. Your choice."
Helga said nothing, the muscles in her back tightening visibly. The tension hung heavy in the air, broken only by the crackling flames and the soft, mocking laughter of the figures surrounding us.
My eyes flicked between the cultists, assessing their stance, and gauging their movements. They radiated cruelty and confidence, arrogance dripping from their every gesture. And there was no doubt—they were dangerous.
"Why?" Helga's voice cracked slightly, her grip on my arm trembling. "The master... he doesn't need Fin. Just leave us alone."
The leader's voice sharpened suddenly. "Your child is not merely human. He is destined for far greater things. His blood makes him precious—powerful. You knew this day would come. Don't feign ignorance now."
Helga shook her head violently, desperation clear in her voice. "He's just a child! Leave us alone!"
My breath hitched at the raw fear in her voice. I hated seeing her like this. I hated feeling weak. But now wasn't the time for pity. Now was the time to act.
I stepped forward, pulling from her grasp. "You're not taking me anywhere," I said clearly, forcing my voice steady despite my racing pulse. "I'd like to see you try."
The cultists laughed cruelly, clearly amused by the bravado of a small child.
Stupid kid body!
But beneath my outward show of confidence, I was terrified—but I wouldn't let them see it.
From the edge of my vision, the cultist leader adjusted his grip on the black katana. As his gloved fingers tightened around the hilt, a sudden, sharp sensation prickled through my Haki.
That sword—my father's soul trapped within it—was reacting. Almost as if sensing my presence, the blade hummed softly, the dark metal vibrating gently. The masked figure stared down at it, confused by its reaction, before tightening his grip and stepping forward decisively.
"We've wasted enough time," he snapped. "Seize him."
The cultists moved quickly, their robes fluttering around them as they began chanting. I barely had time to react when suddenly I felt the heat before I saw it—a bright glow illuminating the snow-covered ground. My eyes widened as I spun to see Agatha, who had emerged silently behind me, her palm raised, fire swirling dangerously.
"Fin!" Helga screamed, lunging to shield me, but the cultists were ready.
Chaos erupted instantly, the air exploding into a cacophony of roars, crackling flames, and arcane incantations. Helga moved first, her body surging forward.
One cultist charged her head-on, throwing a punch aimed at her throat. Helga sidestepped smoothly, pivoting to seize his arm, twisting it brutally until it snapped with a sickening crack. She followed up instantly, slamming her elbow into his mask, shattering it and sending him sprawling into the snow.
Another came at her with glowing hands raised, ready to unleash magic. Helga didn't hesitate, diving beneath his spell to sweep his legs from under him. He hit the ground hard, his spell dissipating as her fist connected sharply with his face, knocking him out instantly.
I barely had time to marvel at her brutal efficiency. My Haki screamed at me, and I spun just in time as one of the cultists lunged toward me, reaching out to seize me by my cloak. I danced back instinctively, activating Soru just in time to vanish from his grasp, appearing several feet away in a burst of speed.
The cultist growled in frustration, turning sharply to find me again, but I was already moving. I leapt off a nearby pile of burning debris, landing nimbly on the roof of a collapsed stable. The wooden structure groaned beneath my weight, but it gave me a vantage point—however fleeting.
Below, Helga fought fiercely, but I could sense the strain building in her movements. Without her golden greatsword, she was at a disadvantage. The group leader stood calmly at the edge of the battlefield, gripping both weapons tightly—the stolen black katana humming ominously and Helga's golden blade glowing faintly as if resisting his touch.
Helga needed that sword.
My eyes darted between Helga and the cult leader, mind racing. I had one chance—one slim, dangerous opportunity. If I failed, we both might die here.
Another cultist lunged at me, his hands crackling with energy. I rolled off the roof just as a bolt of lightning splintered the wood where I'd been standing, showering me in sparks and embers as I landed roughly in the snow.
I stumbled to my feet, adrenaline surging, then spotted the moment I'd been waiting for: Helga had drawn the attention of all the other attackers, leaving the leader momentarily unguarded as he watched, arrogant and unafraid, clutching both blades casually at his sides.
"Now or never," I whispered, charging forward.
My body blurred again with Soru, propelling me forward. The cult leader barely had time to register my approach, turning his masked face toward me too late. I aimed low, sweeping out a kick as I slid across the snow. He stumbled, taken off guard, and loosened his grip.
In a split second, I lunged upward, snatching both blades from his grasp—my hands closing around their hilts simultaneously.
A searing jolt surged through me as I touched the black katana, a flood of dark, overpowering energy coursing through my veins. But I refused to let go, gritting my teeth against the pain.
"Mom!" I shouted desperately, with all the strength I could muster, pivoting mid-air to toss the golden greatsword toward her with every ounce of strength I had left.
She turned instantly, eyes widening in surprise as the blade spun gracefully through the air toward her. Without breaking stride, she reached out and caught the sword perfectly, her fingers wrapping comfortably around the familiar hilt.
For a single heartbeat, Helga met my eyes, fierce pride flashing across her expression.
But I barely noticed. My vision swam, the dark blade vibrating violently in my grip. Whispers filled my mind—cold, insidious, and hauntingly familiar.
"Hello, son."
Time slowed to a crawl.
My breathing steadied, the sound of my heartbeat pounding loudly in my ears, each pulse drawn out and echoing in the strange stillness. I looked down at my hands gripping the katana—then slowly glanced around. The flames, Helga, the cultists—everything had frozen in place, colours muted, suspended in mid-motion.
"No fucking way," I muttered softly, my voice distant even to my ears.
A low chuckle rippled gently around me, echoing like water through an empty cavern. "Quite the mouth on you, son," the voice mused warmly. "Your mother certainly raised you to speak your mind."
My muscles tightened, my heart hammering violently against my ribcage. I swallowed dryly. The voice was calm, smooth, disturbingly charming, and despite knowing exactly who it was, part of me wanted to deny it, to reject the truth staring me right in the face.
"Dad?" I whispered reluctantly, my grip tightening painfully around the hilt.
Another soft laugh echoed through the void. "It's still weird hearing that said to me."
Suddenly, reality jolted violently back into motion. Darkness exploded outward from the katana, a massive shockwave erupting in every direction. The sheer force hurled everyone back, Helga, cultists—everything. In moments, an impenetrable wall of swirling black energy surrounded me, cutting me off completely from the outside world.
My vision blurred, darkening until I was utterly alone. The chaos vanished, replaced by suffocating silence.
Slowly, carefully, I raised my gaze and took in my surroundings. The blackness receded, shaping itself into a calm, empty expanse—a world of featureless shadow.
But the moment my eyes dropped downward, a wave of dizziness washed over me.
I raised my hands, flexing fingers that felt foreign, yet hauntingly familiar.
"Well now," a voice said behind me, amused curiosity clear in its gentle tone. "This is certainly an interesting development. Care to explain?"
I spun sharply, fists clenching on reflex, expecting danger. Instead, standing calmly before me was a man who exuded effortless grace and charm. His hair was jet black, neatly swept back, contrasting sharply against pale, flawless skin. His clothing was simple yet refined—a fitted dark robe lined with silver embroidery. He regarded me with eyes the same piercing shade as my own, gentle amusement sparkling within their depths.
My throat tightened, instincts screaming at me to be cautious. Helga's words echoed clearly in my mind—the cult, the sacrifices, the atrocities committed at this man's command. I couldn't trust him. I shouldn't.
And yet, part of me—the curious, desperate part that yearned for answers—wanted to listen.
"I suppose introductions are in order," he said lightly, offering me a charming smile. "But it seems you already know me quite well."
"You tried to sacrifice me," I said flatly, not relaxing my guard. "Not exactly father-of-the-year material."
He raised an elegant eyebrow, the smile never wavering. "Oh, is that the story Helga told you? Interesting."
I scowled, suspicion flaring sharply. "You're saying she lied?"
He chuckled softly, almost sadly, shaking his head gently. "Your mother has always been… complicated. Passionate, perhaps to a fault."
His eyes softened, becoming reflective as he studied me carefully. "Would it surprise you to know Helga wasn't always the gentle, loving protector you see today?"
I tensed visibly. "Explain."
He sighed lightly, a genuine sadness flickering briefly through his gaze. "Helga was my most devoted follower. Gifted, powerful beyond her years, but unstable. She worshipped me—truly worshipped—and that devotion twisted into obsession." His voice softened further, filled with genuine regret. "She wanted me, all of me—my attention, my affection. And when she couldn't have it, she grew dangerous."
He paused, allowing his words to settle. My mind raced, conflicted. "Helga isn't like that," I said firmly, desperately clinging to what I knew. "She raised me—protected me."
His expression remained gentle, eyes sympathetic. "Yes, of course. But people change. I suspect your birth played a part. Perhaps guilt, or perhaps simply the fear of losing something she coveted deeply."
My jaw tightened, anger flaring slightly. "Why should I believe a single thing you say?"
He spread his arms gently, smiling sadly. "I don't ask you to trust blindly. That would be foolish. I'm merely giving you another perspective—a truth she's hidden away, perhaps even from herself. If I'm truly as monstrous as you've been told, ask yourself: Why does Helga keep that sword, my soul trapped inside it, hidden but never destroyed?"
His words struck me hard, unsettling me deeply. I had wondered the same. Why had Helga kept something so dangerous? Why hadn't she just destroyed it?
"Exactly," he whispered gently, sensing my hesitation. "She couldn't let go. She never could."
I shook my head sharply, rejecting it fiercely. "What do you want from me? Why show me any of this? Why now?"
He stepped closer, though his presence remained oddly non-threatening, radiating calm and control. "Because you deserve the truth, Fin. You deserve to choose your path—not one carved by others. You're special. Unique. I knew that the moment you were born. Why else do you think your soul found its way here? Second chances are rare."
I swallowed thickly, uncertainty gnawing at my resolve. "I don't care about the past. I just want to use this second chance—to become stronger, and to live freely. Away from you, away from the cult."
He nodded slowly, approval warming his expression. "And you should. Power is your birthright. But don't let Helga's fear chain you down. Her paranoia has already cost you precious time and freedom."
"Maybe," I conceded warily, "but she's still my mother. And at least she cares. You tried to kill me."
He sighed softly, genuinely pained. "I understand your mistrust. I would mistrust me as well, given what you've been told. But consider this: Have I harmed you now, when I could have? I'm merely here, offering guidance."
"What exactly are you offering?"
His lips curved into a gentle smile, voice softening to a warm, fatherly tone. "Freedom, Fin. Knowledge. The strength to shape your destiny, untethered from anyone's control—mine, Helga's, or anyone else's. All I ask is that you give me the chance to help you. Allow me to guide you."
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion still firmly rooted. "Why would you help me?"
His gaze softened further, sincerity radiating from him. "Because you're my son, Fin. Because despite everything, I truly want to see you succeed—to become something extraordinary. You don't have to love me, or even forgive me, but at least allow me to help you realize your potential."
Silence fell heavily between us. My mind raced, torn between suspicion and the tempting offer of power. I couldn't deny the allure—this could be exactly what I needed.
But could I trust him? Could I afford not to?
"You don't have to decide right now," he reassured gently, sensing my inner turmoil. "Simply consider what I've told you. You have plenty of time. And I'll be right here if you ever wish to speak again."
He paused, stepping back calmly, fading slightly into the shadows. "For now, though, I believe you have more pressing matters."
Reality began bleeding back in, the barrier slowly dissolving. The noise, heat, and chaos of battle returned, gradually rising in volume.
His voice echoed gently one last time, warm and reassuring. "Choose wisely, Fin. Your fate is yours alone. And I believe you'll choose correctly."
Then, in an instant, the darkness receded completely, leaving me standing once again amid chaos, sword still clutched tightly in my hands.
Helga's frantic voice pierced through the noise, desperate and afraid: "Fin!"
But my thoughts remained tangled, torn. The words of my father lingered deeply in my mind, leaving me uncertain and disturbed.
Had I just made a deal with the devil himself?
Or had I found exactly the ally I needed?
Reality slammed into me like a tidal wave.
My vision cleared sharply, senses flooded back with overwhelming intensity—the acrid smell of blood and smoke, the crackling roar of the fire around us, and above all, the harsh, metallic scent of death.
My gaze rose slowly, meeting Helga's eyes.
She stood amidst the chaos, utterly still, breathing raggedly. Blood drenched her clothes, splattered thickly across her face, soaking through her hair. Bodies littered the ground around her, twisted in unnatural angles. Her hands gripped the golden greatsword tightly, the blade stained crimson.
"Fin…" she whispered her voice soft and pleading, a heartbreaking contrast to the carnage at her feet. I saw in her eyes the agony of a woman who'd been forced to become a monster yet again.
Before I could say a word, a figure stumbled forward from behind her—Agatha, her face twisted in rage and desperation, flames sparking weakly from her fingertips.
"Die, you traitorous bitch!" Agatha screeched, launching toward Helga with murderous intent.
Without blinking, without hesitation, Helga spun fluidly, sword whistling sharply through the air. It was over before I could blink.
Agatha's head hit the snow, rolling slowly forward until it rested at my feet, eyes wide with shocked fury, her mouth frozen mid-curse.
I stared down, bile rising in my throat as I looked into those glassy, accusing eyes. My breath shook violently, but I forced myself to look back up, meeting Helga's gaze again.
Her expression had softened immediately, sorrowful eyes meeting mine, gentle and remorseful. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away from her to the katana still clutched tightly in my grip. The pain—the overwhelming, searing agony that had pulsed through my veins moments ago—was gone. Instead, the blade felt… warm. Familiar.
My father's words echoed clearly in my head:
"Choose wisely, Fin. Your fate is yours alone."
The sword was more than just a prison. It was a promise of power, a legacy passed on, but not bound by blood alone. It was something I could claim, reshape, and forge into my own.
Instinct guided me as I tightened my grip around the hilt. My vision blurred momentarily, my mind clear but detached, as if watching someone else's hands work. The katana's dark blade shimmered, energy vibrating beneath my fingers.
Slowly, the sword began shifting, reshaping itself. Metal flowed like liquid shadow, reforming gently, almost lovingly, until it solidified into something entirely new—a sleek, elegant black cutlass. The blade curved gently, sturdy yet graceful, its hilt adorned simply yet strikingly.
I reshaped into Ace, Gol D Roger's class, I know cringe.
I stared down at the transformed blade, a small smile forming involuntarily at the corners of my lips.
"Fin?" Helga's voice reached me again, softer now, cautious yet tender.
I raised my gaze to hers, the weight of the weapon reassuring in my hands. Despite the blood, despite the carnage around us, I felt a strange peace settle within me.
"I'm alright," I said finally, voice steady.
End of Chapter.