Chapter 169: [169] Shards of the Past (II)
The concept of inflation was recently confirmed in a manga chapter. Honestly, I cannot be bothered to apply it to every mention of money up to this chapter. Instead, I shall add the following as a disclaimer in Chapter 0.
"All monetary values mentioned in this fanfic are adjusted for inflation to give readers a relatable sense of scale and impact. These adjustments are purely for narrative convenience and to align with the Straw Hats' canon timeline. In the actual world of the story, characters perceive and interact with the original, non-inflated values as they were in their time."
Example: The readers see one billion for Sosen's bounty, while the people of the world (two hundred years ago) see around twenty million.
[2880 words]
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[Polemos Island, Year of 1290]
Five years had passed.
Zenora Sosen, the Ronin, had been missing for half a decade, and his name was slowly being buried by the passing years. One would think such a gap of freedom would be a joy for the escaped subjects, but it was not that simple.
"Haaaaaah," Sosen sighed, rubbing his wrinkled forehead. The man wearing the simple commoner get-up was currently facing an unconscious pair of young teenagers.
Both had the same dark skin and dark hair, yet they were covered in tribal markings that had turned dark red, slowly losing colour and returning to the original hue.
*Clank* Sosen sheathed his blade, frowning at the two children's state.
Around them was a torn-up region of earth. The once grassy field had been riddled with tiny holes while spanning gashes had opened up to expose the tree roots below.
"If I was one minute late, they truly would have killed one another," he muttered, massaging his wrinkly forehead from recent years of stress.
There was an air of dismay in his eyes. He was so familiar with the government facility when he broke the kids out because he used to work there once upon a time—Sosen was a man of science!
"Lunarians' flames work toward homeostasis, specifically balance between metabolic energy production, bodily stress response, and cellular repair mechanism," he recounted what he knew from the prior experiments at the facility.
"When their flames are active, it controls the mitochondrial energy output and stress hormone levels, maintaining equilibrium to permit cells on repair and regeneration, granting them nigh-invulnerability."
"When the flames go out, the bodies divert energy from cellular reinforcement to focus on quick response—trading their absurd endurance for incredible speed."
Sosen absently tapped the guard of his famed blade, staring at the unconscious boys before him with sympathy.
"These poor kids failed to inherit the flames in the cloning. While their marks turn red, they gain both invulnerability and great speed together, but at a lower intensity, and paired with great rage."
Without the flames to balance their metabolic energy, these children were doomed to fall victim to the overload of hormones, manifesting in uncontrollable rage.
.
While the ex-soldier was thinking to himself, the other eight teens were soon to arrive.
They came quietly and with despair. It was becoming increasingly more common for their fellow brothers and sisters to become lost in the power the Government wanted for themselves. The world around them, no matter the quiet Polemos, was losing its colour by the passing years.
"Uncle, a-are we cursed?" a visibly frightened girl asked, her voice wavering while holding back tears.
Sosen was quick to kneel before the quivering child. He reached to pat her shoulders, softly speaking to ease her heart, "Don't worry, this is just a test of time. You kids will get through this, and I will be there with you."
"Just remember," he spoke, looking around at the others with optimism. "The only thing we have is each other. That alone is enough to find peace in this broken world!"
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1300]
"Waaaaah!"
It was the cry of a newborn.
The first breath was followed by a slap to the bum, inciting a booming wail. The child continued crying while the young mother tried to calm it down. Nearby was another girl of similar age, doing her best to clean up and keep the pregnancy room at bay.
A young man, around 25, stood by the side of a middle-aged Sosen and heaved a lengthy sigh.
"Go, meet your son," the white-haired Sosen said, pushing the father to his child.
The stoic man gulped, slowly inching ahead to the woman and child, trying not to breathe too loud as to sicken the newborn.
.
They were in a small building made of sliced wood for the frame, thick leaves and vines to keep it together and a mix of mud and clay for the walls.
Sosen had a complicated look on his face. 'Looks like the experiment is hereditary—the child was born with the same features.' He clenched his jaw, heaving a sigh, 'Is their entire bloodline to be damned because of one gluttonous desire to weaponize the Lunarians?'
The thought alone forced the man to clench his fists so hard that they began to bleed. He looked out the window and glanced at a freshly dug patch of soil mounted with a rectangular stone.
Naturally, a grave. A quick glance would show evidence that the body had been buried at most a year ago.
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1320]
*Drip* *Drop*
A panting Sosen stood across a wet patch of grass, his eyes shut. A few grown-ups of darker complexion were nearby, all looking away from the scene.
*Drip* *Drip* It wasn't water.
Sosen slowly raised his sword, glancing at the fresh red liquid streaked down his sharp katana and sinking into a ruddy patch of soil.
In front of him was a middle-aged man lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. His eyes were stuck open as his life was lost. The scary thing was the etched-on smirk on the man's face, further amplified by the blood-red marking all over his body.
*Clack* Sosen sheathed his sword again, looking back to see a mother hugging her daughter behind him.
"Prepare the grave."
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1340]
The graveyard had extended from the island's edge to nearly ten times its previous size.
Twelve graves lined up in two rows, each headed with a stone detailing a name and range of years.
The ten experimented children had already reached the age of around 65, yet only four of them lived to tell the tale. An aged Sosen, nearly 88, sat crisscrossed on the grass, quiet.
He gazed with mixed emotions as he breathed in the coastal air. The island had gotten even brighter in the past decades, yet somehow, to Sosen, it felt darker than ever.
"The third generation of children is coming up, but at this rate, they will surely die out once I'm gone…" he muttered.
A dry smile soon stretched across his wrinkly face as he recalled being hailed as the children's saviour in the past 55 years of his life. He could feel death catching up and needed to do something; anything.
.
"Grandpa Sosen," a voice beckoned his attention. Turning to the side, he saw a lean yet muscular young man, around twenty. He had striking dark markings over his body, topped with long dark hair and sharp eyes.
The truly special thing about the man was the fact that he had a katana sheathed to his hip, one awfully similar to that of Vice Admiral Sosen of the past—if only the lad knew how priceless the meito was!
"Romo-kun, you look dashing with that blade. I'm surprised Konton accepted you so easily," Sosen called out, slowly standing up.
"Let me help," the dark-skinned man offered, pulling Sosen up.
"So-So-So! I was there when you were born, picking you up two decades ago, and now you're doing that for me."
Romo smiled thinly, shaking his head, "Father always talked about your help so many years ago. He said you saved them from a dark and cold place, bringing them here. He died hoping you could one day rest like he will."
Sosen breathed back a tear, sighing out loud. "I was just making up for a mistake," the man muttered.
"You taught them how to read, how to cook, how to make houses, how to catch food, how to clean, how to fight, and so much more. No matter what, we are forever in your debt."
The old man looked at Romo once again.
Romo then switched the subject to something brighter, proudly remarking, "You also taught me how to charm girls. She said yes!"
Sosen's tired eyes shot open with a prideful smile as he slapped the man's back. Ignoring the aching wrist, he boisterously exclaimed, "So-So-So! It is a happy occasion!"
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1341]
"Waaaaaah!"
"Eeeeuuugh!"
The familiar cry rang through the island once more.
Nearby, fellow inhabitants each broke out in smiles and laughter, ignoring the pain of the past. Sosen, nearing 90, was escorted in by the tall Romo.
"Look, Grandpa Sosen, it's a miracle!"
The old man's face warped with surprise as he saw the mother, Kaguya, hold not one but two newborns in both arms. A warm, motherly smile on her face.
"M-My eyes must be playing tricks… there's two of them!" the man remarked, laughing in giddiness. Romo laughed alongside the old man and even the nurses as the usual gloomy island was filled with a new sense of warmth.
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1350]
An old man sat in a wooden chair, his eyes slightly shut. The warm sun fell on his body as he breathed in the fresh air.
After decades, Sosen, at 98 years old, could finally give off a sincere and comfortable smile. He saw a scene that had once left him terror-struck, yet now, it was something truly special!
"Come on, Terra, snap out of it!"
The voice came from a 9-year-old as he weaved through the field. He had an annoyed expression on his childish face as he dodged a flurry of attacks. One coming from an identical boy of the same age.
*Whizz!* The child was on the attack, though not out of his own choice.
The familiar markings across his young body were blood-red, pulsing with rage. Even his pupils had taken on the same colour.
Yet the attack that moved faster than Sosen's old eyes could keep up with was easily dodged by the boy's brother, Caelum.
"Hehe, fine, catch me if you can!"
The boy jumped from side to side, effortlessly weaving through a flurry of slashes from a sharp stone sword.
Clang!
Boom!
Bang!
Each strike would leave plate-sized craters, littering the ground like a minefield.
The odd thing was that Caelum seemed to dodge the attack before Terra could even attempt to go through with it.
…
Soon enough, five minutes later, the berserk Terra fell to the ground, huffing and puffing. The blood-red marking gradually calmed down, bringing sense to the boy's face.
"It happened again?" the child muttered, clicking his tongue.
Caelum gave a sheepish grin and a triumphant thumbs-up. "That puts us at 72-74 enrages, which means you're my servant for the day!"
The tired Terra shot off the ground. While gnashing his teeth, he yelled, "Whatever!"
…
Sosen laughed, though it was followed by a violent cough.
""Fossil-Grandpa Sosen!"" the children cried out, rushing the man.
The ex-marine twitched in his seat, shaking his head. 'I can't spare the energy on these two,' he calmed himself.
"Alright, boys, go clean up the mess you made of the field," a sharp voice came from the side. It was Romo, glaring at the two.
""Okay…""
They hurried off, grabbing a bag of dirt to fill the holes.
"Grandpa Sosen," the older Romo muttered, seeing the tired man.
"Never mind me, this is the greatest miracle for us; how can you waste time crying over nature taking its course."
Romo sighed, deeply exhaling. "Who could have guessed that twins could sense one another's coming rage…"
Sosen smirked, remembering the first time the miraculous sight occurred. "It makes sense the more I think of it! It's genomic resonance!"
Romo looked confused as the old man was cackling to himself. "Identical twins share the same genome. They also have identical genetic markers and biological responses that make their processes almost perfectly synchronized. This means they can 'feel' as their twin's stress response is suddenly exploding, marking their rage state!"
Sosen, although considerably aged, has bright eyes that shone with victory. But at the end of the day, he was not immune to time…
"!!!"
"What's wrong, Grandpa Sosen?" Romo suddenly asked, seeing the old man's widened eyes.
Within seconds, the grandfather stammered in his steps, forcing Romo to help him sit once more.
"Romo, I'm about to take my final breath," he casually stated, his eyes glowing red. "Those boys of yours, I know it; they can save your people from their cursed fate!"
Romo, whose Haki also picked up on Sosen's heart rate plummeting, immediately kneeled at the elderly man's eye level. "OUR people!" he corrected, his eyes firm.
"Although we don't share the same blood, there is no doubt that you saved us all."
Sosen felt the surge from the warrior he imparted his sword style to. There was nothing but pride in his eyes. "Keep that chest near you… I pray for you all…"
Romo watched quietly as his people's saviour breathed his final breath, staring at the blue sky above Polemos.
He had spent the latter half of his life looking after the ten failed subjects. He had passed on his fighting style alongside a technique known as the Six Powers. But beyond that, a small wooden box was to be opened when tragedy struck—a final failsafe left by the dishonoured marine.
Romo slowly pulled Sosen's eyelids down, leaving behind a fallen man who died without regrets, smiling. "Grandpa Sosen… you can rest now."
Zenora Sosen passed away at the age of 98.
…
"It's an admirable way to go," Damien said, narrowing his eyes to the darkened skies. The calm wind felt ever-so-slightly colder.
Indra nodded in agreement as the two remained silent momentarily.
"Zenora," Damien muttered. "Your ancestors took upon the surname of their saviour."
"Yes, it was to honour his sacrifice, I wouldn't have it any other way," Indra said with conviction.
"Romo went a step further and named the position as the Clan Leader to be the 'Shadow of the Zenora.'"
It was apparent to Damien that even Indra held the man in the highest of lights.
"So the twin thing, I take it you are a twin yourself?"
Indra glanced at Damien's curious eyes and gave an affirmative nod.
"I was of the third generation of identical twins of the Zenora," he explained. "Though the story of Terra and Caleum had just begun…"
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1365]
Every year, a celebration took place, one to celebrate the life of Zenora and one to honour the dead. Since the passing of Sosen 15 years ago, the duo of Terra and Caelum had grown into something incredible.
"Don't lock your elbows; it eats up all the momentum in that strike!"
"The gap between your feet is too large; you'll fall over before you cut anyone with that blade!"
"Use your back! A half-assed slash like that isn't scaring a mosquito!"
…
The hollering voices came from two people. They walked around an assembly of fifty pre-teens to young adults of the Zenora, each possessing the tribal markings.
The two men walking through the rows of students were both a strong 10 feet (~3 m) tall. One was lean and fast, while the other was burly and powerful.
A sword sat at Terra's hip, while Caelum preferred his fists.
"Only through determination, commitment, and a firm will can you ever activate your Figures," Terra remarked.
Caelum continued the teaching. "They are a blessing to us, a power that grants us speed, strength, endurance and enhanced recovery, but if left untrained, the Figures can just as easily run you mad!"
However, one of the younger children began to waver. "W-What if we get lost in that anger… My uncle killed my aunt like that!"
Caelum, who was nearby, didn't admonish the child. Instead, he kneeled to his eye level and calmly stated, "Terra and I built our control off one another," he began. Though you cannot do that yourself, we can help you."
"Train with your heart. If you get lost in that background rage, we will personally snap you out of it. Remember, these Figures are a blessing and not a curse!"
Under the strong leadership of Terra and Caelum, the Zenora thrived for the coming years.
Though an array of tribulations continued to befall their people, they were able to make it out with their chins held high. The combined strength of their clan also skyrocketed as the relative peace era had arrived.
…
[Polemos Island, Year of 1420]
By the age of 75, Zenora Caelum was laid to rest under the tears and sadness of his people. A circle of nearly 500 of the Zenora stood as the legendary leader was buried beside the graves of Zenora Sosen and his late brother, Zenora Terra, who had passed just two years prior.
Zenora Kaguya, the elderly Chief Elder of the Zenora, clanked her cane. "I have buried both my sons," she announced with a dull voice. "But I ask you, as their mother, to celebrate everything they accomplished rather than mourn their losses!"
"Once again, by some miracle, another pair of twins was born to our people just two days ago."
A woman stood near the front, holding a newborn child in her hand. Besides her was a man, presumably her husband, with another newborn.
The mother glanced at her identical sons and breathed deeply at their birth-given responsibilities.
"Remember their names," Kaguya voiced out once more. "They will be the brightest stars in today's dark skies: Zenora Veta and Zenora Mors!"
To Be Continued…
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Author's Corner.
The main idea behind their frenzy state is that they can't regulate their system. This dysregulation leads to the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis activation beyond optimal levels, resulting in heightened aggression and rage.
Where the Lunarians could swap between great endurance and excellent speed for homeostasis, the Warborns get both at a lesser rate and with that insanity factor.
Images are available on Discord alongside other niche details: https://discord.gg/aJHHHPvb6q
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