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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
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(THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT HAVE 2000+ WORDS AS THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN BEFORE I MADE THE ANNOUNCEMENT)
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The small boat was dead silent, save for the rhythmic creaking of the wood and the distant, muffled sound of the tide. But inside Aster's mind, a storm was brewing.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his bandaged shoulder aching, the heavy, leather-bound journal resting on his knees. The book felt warm. Not the comforting warmth of a hearth, but the deep, latent heat of a dormant volcano. The leather was cracked and stained with salt, age, and what looked suspiciously like dried blood.
Rayleigh and Shakky sat nearby, watching him. They didn't speak. They knew the weight of what he was holding.
Aster turned the page.
The handwriting changed. It wasn't his mother's elegant script, nor his father's jagged scrawl. This was older. Much older. It was a copy, transcribed by Xebec, of text from a Poneglyph that the world had forgotten existed.
Aster read. And as he read, the words seemed to scorch themselves into his retinas.
"Before the seas split and the Red Line rose... Before the drums of liberation beat... there was the Fire."
The text began with a myth. A story from the dawn of the world, before the Void Century, before the twenty kingdoms, before the very concept of 'Justice' existed.
"The First Flame. The Calamity of Dawn. The God Who Burned the Sky."
It spoke of a duality. In the ancient times, when the world was dark and enslaved by forces lost to time, two figures emerged to bring the light. Two brothers of fate, born from the same explosion that birthed the world.
One was the Sun God, Nika. He brought freedom through joy. He danced to the rhythm of the heartbeat, his body made of rubber, his spirit made of laughter. He was the Dawn That Laughs. He moved among the slaves, breaking their chains with a smile, turning their suffering into a song. He was the embodiment of liberation through hope.
But there was another.
The second figure did not dance. He did not laugh with the people. He stood upon the mountains, and he looked down at the oppressors, at the chains, at the very structures that held the world in bondage.
And he burned them.
"Sol Ragnarok."
He was the Dawn That Ends. He did not bring freedom by untying the knot; he brought freedom by burning the rope, the master, and the ground they stood on. He was not a god of creation, but of renewal through absolute, total ruin.
Where Nika inspired armies to rise, Ragnarok raised the sky in flames. He was the first flame given consciousness, a being of pure, sentient, consuming judgment.
The text described his power with a terrifying reverence:
"His fire burned not just matter, but memory and fate. Those who witnessed him ceased to exist, even in history. Legends say he once melted the sun itself and remade it, simply because it was not bright enough."
Aster paused, his small finger tracing the ancient name. Sol Ragnarok.
...That name... Flamey's voice whispered in his head. It wasn't his usual screech. It was low, vibrating with a sudden, resonant clarity. ...It feels... heavy. Like I'm... remembering a dream I didn't know I had.
Aster continued reading. The story grew darker.
During the Great War of the Void Century, the two symbols of rebellion fought side by side. Nika, the bringer of Hope. Ragnarok, the bringer of Judgment.
But fire, unchecked, consumes everything.
The text described a schism. Ragnarok's power grew uncontrollable. His judgment became too absolute. He did not distinguish between the oppressor and the world the oppressor built. He sought to burn it all down to ash, to leave a clean, black slate for the new dawn.
Even Joyboy, the incarnation of Nika, tried to stop him. The clash between the Sun God and the Fire God split the heavens. It was said that their battle created the eternal, chaotic storms of the Grand Line—a scar on the planet that would never heal.
"The Government's Reaction."
This section was annotated by Xebec. His jagged handwriting filled the margins with angry, cynical notes.
When the Twenty Kings formed the World Government, they didn't just erase the history of the Great Kingdom. They purged the very idea of Sol Ragnarok.
They feared Nika because he could turn the world upside down. But they were terrified of Ragnarok because he could end the world entirely.
His name was declared a "Cognitive Flame": a word that, if spoken, if remembered, could re-ignite the world's primal fire. To know him was a crime punishable by immediate erasure.
So, they hid him. They took the fruit that carried his will, and they buried it.
They reclassified his power as "The Flame of Renewal." They created a fake category, a lie to mask the truth. They called it the "Mythical Zoan, Model: Surtr," a giant of fire, a simple monster of legend.
But even that was too close to the truth. So Imu sealed the true fruit away beneath Mary Geoise. They renamed it again. They diluted its legend. They called it a simple Paramecium Fruit. A powerful fire fruit, yes, but one bound by the laws of nature.
"Those who know the true name of the Sun's End cease to live in this age."
Aster turned the page.
There, drawn in meticulous detail by his father, was a sketch of the fruit. The black, cracked skin. The magma-like pulse within. The fruit Aster had held on the beach. The fruit he had eaten.
And below it, the truth.
The Hidden Fruit
False Name:Mera Mera no Mi: Model Inferno (Paramecia)
Government Classification:Mythical Zoan: Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Surtr
True Name:Hito Hito no Mi, Model: SOL RAGNAROK
Aster stared at the words.
Sol Ragnarok.
He wasn't just a fire user. He wasn't just a "Paramecia." He was a Mythical Zoan. He had eaten the will of a god.
Surtur... Flamey's voice echoed, testing the name the Government had given them, then discarding it. No. That fits the shape. But... Ragnarok... Sol Ragnarok...
The spirit in Aster's head went silent, and then, a sound started. A low, deep, rising hum. It was the sound of a fire catching in a dry forest. It was the sound of a memory unlocking.
...I am the Dawn That Ends, Flamey whispered, and the voice was no longer cute. It was ancient. It was terrifying. I am the judgment. I am the cleansing.
Aster closed the book.
The silence in the room was heavy. Rayleigh was watching him closely, his glasses reflecting the dim light.
"You read it," Rayleigh said softly.
Aster nodded. "Sol Ragnarok."
"Your father," Rayleigh said, leaning forward, "spent his life looking for the truth. He found that fruit. He knew what it was. He knew it was the only thing the World Government feared more than Joyboy."
Rayleigh pointed a finger at Aster's chest. "Roger... before God Valley, he believed in the Dawn. He believed that someone would come, 800 years later, to bring the laughter back. To turn the world upside down. He waited for Joyboy."
Rayleigh's expression darkened. "But Xebec... Xebec didn't care about laughter. He saw the rot in the world. He saw the celestial dragons, the slavery, the lies. He didn't want to save that world, Aster. He wanted to reform it."
"He believed that before the new sun could rise... the old world had to end."
Aster looked down at his hands. His small, scarred hands.
He thought of Teach. He thought of the pirate casually swinging the axe. He thought of the "justice" of the Marines who put their life on the line to save his life. He thought of the "gods" in their white suits who had ordered his family's death.
He thought of the system that allowed a one-year-old's head to roll in the mud.
Joyboy brought liberation. Joyboy brought smiles.
But Aster didn't feel like smiling.
He felt a cold, hard, burning knot in his chest.
We are not Joyboy, Flamey said. The spirit was back, his voice settling into a new, dangerous equilibrium. He was still the chaotic, fiery spirit, but now he had a name. He had a purpose. We don't dance, Aster. We don't stretch. We burn.
Yes, Aster thought. We burn.
He looked up at Rayleigh. His golden eyes, usually so serious, now held a depth that was frightening to behold in a four-year-old. It was the look of a judge who had already passed the sentence.
"I understand," Aster said. His voice was steady. "I am not the next Joyboy."
He gripped the handle of Crimson Abyss, the "pact-weapon" that liked him, the axe that was hungry.
"If Joyboy brings the Dawn," Aster whispered, quoting the final line of his father's notes, "then when I awaken... the world will see its Final Sunrise."
Rayleigh let out a long breath. He looked at Shakky. They both knew what they had just taken in. They hadn't adopted a child. They had adopted a calamity.
But looking at the small, broken boy with the scars on his face and the grief in his heart, Rayleigh didn't see a monster. He saw his best friend's son. He saw a boy who had been forced into a destiny he didn't ask for.
"Alright," Rayleigh said, standing up. "Sol Ragnarok. Final Sunrise. Those are big words for a kid who can't even swing that axe without passing out."
He walked over and ruffled Aster's hair, right over the white streak. "For now, you're just Aster. Once we reach Sabaody Archipelago, we start. Because if you want to burn the world, kid, you first have to learn how not to burn yourself."
Aster nodded.
He held the book tight. He felt the pulse of the fruit in his blood. He felt the weight of the axe.
The sadness was still there. It would always be there. But now, it had a shape. It had a direction.
He was the End. And he would make them pay.
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