The ground was cracked and damp, littered with withered leaves and fractured tree trunks—some of which leaned awkwardly as if struck by immense force. Among the scorched and broken wood, the air carried the pungent scent of ash, sweat, and burnt flesh. A frail breeze passed between decaying branches.
Louay slowly opened his eyes.
He wore nothing but a few tattered leaves and lay on his back atop the harsh ground, which was strewn with dry foliage and small fragments of rock. Sunlight filtered down through the tall trees above, casting uneven lines across his face—warming one side while leaving the other in shadow.
A faint sting pricked his back, as if his body had been rubbing against stones while he slept. He raised his head slightly and heard the soft rustling of dry leaves beneath his neck. Breathing in deeply, his nostrils filled with the scent of warm soil mixed with the subtle aroma of burnt wood.
Turning his head to the left, he saw a pile of shattered rocks surrounded by broken branches.
He ran his hands over his arms—they were slightly stiff from exertion, but something felt different. His muscles were more defined than before. He was still the same... but his body had begun to change.
Sitting halfway up, he scanned his surroundings. The nearby trees were leafless, many of them leaning awkwardly.
He rubbed his eyes and yawned, muttering:
"Nothing's changed… even the rocks I shattered have returned to silence."
The silence was total—no birdsong, no running water—only a light breeze brushing through his long hair and scattering the leaves around him.
Running a hand over his face, he stood slowly, brushing off the leaves clinging to his shoulders and chest. He looked up at the sky through half-lidded eyes and murmured:
"The sun's tilted slightly higher… which means the battle has started, and we're somewhere in the middle of it—according to the story's timeline."
Louay sighed, then stood fully and said:
"Looks like I fell asleep while training..."
He glanced behind him before continuing.
"But I think that's enough. I've ruined the place anyway..."
The area looked as though a storm had torn through it—trees, rocks, everything was devastated.
He exhaled and glanced at his right hand, raising it to chest level. Covering it in Haki up to his shoulder, he said:
"No matter. It served its purpose perfectly."
Lowering his arm and letting the Haki fade, he walked toward the shoreline to his right, plucking off the remaining leaves he wore.
The sea was calm, waves lapping gently against the sand. The gray sky reflected across the surface like a dull mirror. The water kissed his bare feet, the salt clinging to his skin. The air was rich with the scent of aged seaweed and an eerie stillness.
Louay commented quietly:
"This calm won't last... the sea doesn't know what happens on land, but it always washes away the traces."
He waded in until the water reached his waist, then dove beneath the surface.
Before rising, he opened his eyes underwater. The sand below was undisturbed, scattered with smooth stones and bits of gravel. Some shells clung to rocks, and small fish darted between them.
Breaking the surface, droplets streamed from his face and the strands of his long hair. He muttered as he wiped his face and raked his fingers through his hair, then dove again:
"I need to hurry... the battle's reaching its peak."
About fifteen minutes later, Louay emerged from the sea. With no towel, he walked slowly, letting the breeze dry his skin.
On his way to the cave, he examined his body—still bare. The muscles in his arms stood out more prominently. His physique had subtly changed.
Lifting his gaze again, he thought wryly:
"Seems like I gained some muscle."
He arrived at the cave, which he hadn't entered in nearly three days. Glancing around, he wondered:
"Maybe someone came here while I was gone."
The cave was narrow, its walls dry, with dead tree roots hanging from the ceiling. In the right corner, the remnants of an extinguished fire still lingered. Clothes hung nearby, and a tree stump stood before where the fire had been.
The air reeked of old roasted meat and ashes. In another corner lay a bag partially buried in gravel, beside the skeletal remains of a deer with brittle ribs.
After a few minutes of quiet inspection, he reassured himself:
"Or maybe not."
Now mostly dry, he dressed in the clothes he'd left hanging near the fire over three days ago. After putting on his shirt, he exhaled with relief:
"At least I got rid of those annoying leaves."
He walked to a small recess in the cave wall, reached inside, and retrieved a white pouch of coins he had previously hidden.
Inspecting it, he said:
"Still intact."
Returning near the stump, he knelt slightly and picked up an empty flask with his right hand.
As he was leaving the cave, his eyes caught sight of the deer's skeleton. He paused, a wicked smile curling on his lips as he muttered:
"I have an idea... a foolish one I want to try."
Bending down, he reached for the skeleton, snapping off a few broken ribs about the size of his palm and tucked them into his shirt.
With his things gathered, he left the cave without looking back.
…
Louay walked quietly among the trees, his footsteps sinking softly into damp soil. Every step released a faint rustle. Sunlight barely pierced the canopy, drawing golden lines across the earth.
Dry leaves crunched beneath his feet, and the air carried hints of moss and fresh dew. The coin pouch swung from his left shoulder, and the bones hidden under his shirt pressed cold against his skin.
Passing a tree trunk split from an old blow, he glanced at it without breaking stride. The forest was hushed—only whispers of wind and the occasional drip from overhead.
Suddenly, a scream echoed from the forest's edge. He stopped, turned toward the sound, and began moving without hesitation.
"A fight..."
He reached a clearing at the forest's edge, surrounded by shrubs. Blood stained the grass in patches, and the signs of a recent struggle were clear.
Louay approached quietly and took cover behind a tree. Peering around it, he spotted a familiar scene.
"It's Usopp... I was right."
Usopp sat atop a fish-man three times his size, striking him repeatedly with a battered iron hammer while shouting:
"Take that! And that! And this!"
Realizing the fish-man had lost consciousness, Usopp stopped, stood, and panted heavily:
"I... I beat you! I did it alone... but..."
His excitement faded into despair.
"But no one's going to believe me anyway."
He stuffed the hammer back into his pointed bag. His body was covered in light wounds.
He ran off quickly, glancing back again and again as if afraid the fish-man would wake up.
The massive fish-man lay still on the ground. Before him stood Louay, unblinking, his gaze as cold as death.
Silence reigned, broken only by the wind rustling the grass and whispering through the trees.
After a long moment of stillness, Louay reached beneath his shirt and pulled out two ribs, each the size of his palm. He gripped them tightly and coated his hands with Haki, the black energy coursing into the bones.
He lunged forward and drove the bones straight into the fish-man's eyes.
Blood exploded instantly, splattering Louay's face and clothes as he kept pressing without hesitation.
The fish-man screamed, writhing and grasping Louay's blood-soaked hands, trying to stop him.
But it was too late... the ribs had been fully embedded into his eye sockets, and crimson fluid gushed from the wounds, soaking the earth beneath him.
Louay pulled away, leaving the fish-man thrashing on the ground.
The creature stood, screaming and stumbling, slamming his hands wildly against the earth:
"My eyes! My eyes!"
He howled again, the blood never ceasing to flow:
"Who are you?! Why are you doing this to me?!"
Louay replied with a calm, unchanged expression:
"You don't need to know."
He turned his back to leave and added softly:
"Your time was already up."
The fish-man roared, shaking the trees and sending birds flying:
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Louay muttered with quiet venom:
"If you can still see me… no, if you can even survive."
"...The blood will slowly seep into your brain. But don't worry."
He tilted his blood-specked face to the sky and said, almost serenely:
"It'll die before you do."
He looked ahead again, smiling faintly:
"I don't fight the dead… I just cut off their path back."
While the fish-man screamed and flailed, Louay wiped the blood from his face and hands with his shirt, then walked toward the city.
…
After a long walk, Louay arrived in town.
The streets were deserted, doors hung open, and some windows were shattered. Clothes swayed on empty lines, and shops stood abandoned, filled with the smell of spoiled food and damp wood. Discarded sacks lay in the corners.
Louay showed no surprise—he already knew why.
As the wind blew his long black hair past his shoulders, he murmured:
"Seems most of the townspeople have either rebelled against the fish-men's base… or are waiting for the final outcome."
He headed toward Arjer's shop, only to find it open like the rest. Entering, he searched but found no one.
He thought to himself:
"Even that puppet-looking old man has gone."
The recently repaired table had been flipped over, and the goods were scattered across the floor.
He walked deeper inside, picked up some cooked meat, and replaced his empty flask with a full one.
Clenching his right hand—with only the index finger extended—he infused it with Haki and etched a short message on the cracked wall. Beneath it, he placed the coin pouch he'd brought.
Then he left the shop quietly and continued on.
As Louay walked down an abandoned alleyway, he stopped and muttered to himself:
"I'll have to go through the back... the front gate will be swarming."
He turned right and saw a narrow alley.
"Maybe this leads to where I need to be."
Entering it, he felt the weight of its atmosphere. Though it was daytime, the passage was dark, reeking of a vile mix of urine, rot, and dried blood. The children here weren't children as he knew them—they were skin-and-bone frames in torn clothes, eyes pleading for everything.
Louay sighed and whispered:
"What a miserable sight… one of this world's darker corners."
Just then, a boy crashed into him and fell. Louay looked down at him with a steady gaze.
The boy was thin, with long, wavy blue hair and matching eyes, dressed in rags. Nervous and sweating, he stammered:
"I… I'm sorry! I didn't see you—I didn't mean to bump into you!"
Louay stared at him in silence for twenty seconds, then said calmly:
"Follow me."
The boy replied instantly:
"Y-Yes, sir!"
He followed Louay, barely reaching his shoulder in height.
After a few steps, they reached a quiet corner of the alley. The boy's stomach growled audibly. Louay sighed, pulled a large wrapped piece of meat from his bag, and tossed it to him.
"Take it. It's all yours."
The boy hesitated, then said shyly:
"I… I have no money. I can't accept it."
Louay gave him a cold, serious look and replied:
"Then give it back."
Panicked, the boy said:
"N-No! I'll take it! Thank you!"
Louay asked, watching him:
"Can you read?"
"A little… my mom taught me before Arlong's men killed her."
Louay pulled a small wooden tablet from beneath his shirt and handed it over. The boy stared at the dirty slab filled with markings.
"What is this?"
Louay answered, voice steady:
"A set of rules. Follow them every day. If you master them, we'll meet again. But..."
His tone suddenly sharpened.
"Don't let anyone else see it. And once you finish... burn it completely."
The boy nodded quickly:
"Got it!"
Louay leaned in and whispered:
"If you face an enemy stronger than you... tell him what I'm about to say..."
The boy's eyes widened as he heard the phrase.
Louay turned to leave, and just as he was walking away, the boy called out:
"My name's Kiro! I'll do as you asked—but… why me? Why choose me?"
Louay replied with quiet sarcasm:
"Because you were the most pitiful of them all."
And with that, he headed toward the fish-men's headquarters—where the battle was nearing its end.
The boy stood frozen, clearly expecting some praise. He clutched the wooden tablet tightly and said with determination:
"I won't waste this chance."