Capítulo 3: A Year in the Jungle
The jungle wasn't just a place to survive—it became my world. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and before I knew it, a year had passed. I wasn't the same as when I first woke up here.
It started with a single Harpy Eagle. I'd been experimenting with Observation Haki, trying to extend my senses like I'd seen in the Manga and Anime. Suddenly, I felt this strong, sharp presence nearby, almost like it was watching me.
Looking up, there it was—a massive Harpy Eagle perched on a branch above, staring at me like I was some strange intruder in its territory.
For a moment, we just locked eyes. Normally, I'd expect a wild animal to attack or fly off, but this one didn't. It was like we understood each other.
I tried something new, letting my Conqueror's Haki flow—not to intimidate, but to show strength. At the same time, the Voice of All Things stirred within me, like an instinct. I don't know how, but I spoke to it, not with words, but with feelings.
The bird tilted its head, then hopped down to a closer branch. It didn't attack. It didn't leave.
[System Notification: Voice of All Things – Progress Gained: 20%]
[Ability Unlocked: Avian Connection]
That was the first. Over the next few months, more harpy eagles started appearing. By then, I'd started thinking of them as allies. They'd warn me of dangers, guide me to food, and even share leftover prey when they hunted.
I'd never thought I'd be the kind of person to hang out with a flock of Eagles, but here I was.
After a while, I realized my first shelter wasn't going to cut it. Sleeping in a makeshift tree platform was fine for a while, but I needed something better.
One day, while practicing flying with my Lunarian wings—still more like gliding than actual flight—I spotted a clearing below. It was like something out of a dream.
In the middle was a massive Mango tree, its branches heavy with ripe fruit. At its base, a stream flowed, crystal clear and full of fish. The place was perfect.
I didn't hesitate. I relocated immediately, bringing what few tools and supplies I had.
The mango tree became my new home. It wasn't easy at first, but I figured it out.
Using vines and branches, I built a platform high in the tree. It wasn't fancy, but it kept me off the ground and away from predators. Over time, I added more to it—a proper roof, walls, even a small storage area for food.
By the end of the month, the treehouse had become something I was proud of. It wasn't just a shelter; it was home.
With the constant supply of mangoes and fish, I wasn't starving, but I wanted more variety.
I started planting seeds I found while exploring—tomatoes, beans, and other stuff I couldn't quite identify. At first, nothing grew. The soil was too hard, the seeds wouldn't sprout.
But I kept at it, learning as I went. By the end of three months, I had a small but thriving vegetable garden. It wasn't much, but it was mine.
I didn't just spend my time building and gardening. Every day, I trained.
The Rokushiki techniques weren't easy to learn, but I was determined.
Shigan: I started by punching trees. Over and over, until my fingers were tough enough to leave dents. Eventually, I could pierce through bark with a single jab.
Kami-e: This one was about movement. I practiced dodging falling branches and the playful swoops of my harpy eagles. It felt like turning into wind—light, untouchable.
Tekkai: This was the toughest. Standing still while letting rocks and branches hit me wasn't fun, but it worked. My body grew tougher, like armor.
Rankyaku: By far the coolest. With a kick, I could slice through grass, leaves, and even small branches. It wasn't as strong as in the stories yet, but I was getting there.
I still couldn't use Rokuogan, though. The system made it clear:
[System Notification: Rokushiki Techniques – Mastery Progress 60%]
[Secret Technique Unlock Requirement: Mastery of All Six Basic Techniques]
I wasn't there yet, but I knew I'd get there eventually.
The clearing crackled with heat as I stood in its center, blue flames swirling around my arms. The sun cast long shadows, but the fire's glow outshone everything.
Day one: I focused on creating Flame Slashes, arcs of fire cutting through the air. They burned bright, but the edges wavered, dissipating too soon. I adjusted my stance, swinging harder until the flames sliced clean through a fallen log.
By the second week, I turned to the Burning Orb. I held the unstable sphere in my hands, sweat dripping as it flickered dangerously. It exploded more times than I could count, scorching the ground, but eventually, I compressed it—a glowing, deadly core.
For hours, I pushed myself, summoning bursts of fire around my body, experimenting with intensity and direction. The Immolation Field—a fiery shockwave—was next. Every attempt left me drained, but by the month's end, I could ignite the clearing in a controlled inferno and extinguish it with a thought.
The system chimed faintly:
[Phoenix Flames of Destruction – Level 7]
Breathing heavily, I extinguished the fire, staring at my scorched surroundings.
The biggest breakthrough came when I finally learned to fly.
At first, it was just gliding. I'd jump from high branches and let the wind carry me, my Wings catching the air. But as I got stronger, I started experimenting with propulsion.
Using my flames, I launched myself higher and farther. It wasn't pretty, and I crashed a lot, but eventually, I got the hang of it.
Flying changed everything. From the sky, the jungle looked completely different—endless green stretching as far as the eye could see. The harpy eagles often joined me, their graceful movements showing me what real flight looked like.
By the time a year had passed, I wasn't the same person anymore.
My body was stronger, my skills sharper. I'd mastered most of the Rokushiki techniques, learned how to fly, and built a life for myself in the jungle. The harpy eagles were my allies, the mango tree my sanctuary.
[System Notification: Ability Progression]
[Phoenix Flame of Regeneration – Level 6]
[Phoenix Flames of Destruction – Level 7]
[Blue Flame Control – Level 5]
[Armament Haki – Level 4]
[Observation Haki – Level 5]
[Conqueror's Haki – Level 4]
[Rokushiki Techniques – Level 6]
[Voice of All Things – Level 5]
---
I was practicing Rankyaku again, sending slashes of energy into the dense jungle foliage. The air cracked with each attack, and the sheer power I was learning to wield felt exhilarating. But as I paused to catch my breath, the jungle's usual symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls was interrupted by something unnatural: human voices, harsh and loud.
I froze, my sharpened senses zeroing in on the direction. It wasn't just one voice—it was a group. Their words were unintelligible, the language unfamiliar, but the tone was unmistakable: orders barked, cries of protest, and the occasional sound of a blow landing.
My wings twitched as I moved, leaping silently through the trees using Geppo. Using my Observation Haki within seconds, I found them.
The clearing was a hive of activity. Two trucks were parked side by side, their headlights piercing the dusk. Around them, armed men moved with grim efficiency. Their cargo? People—men, women, and children—huddled in cages like animals.
There were at least two dozen captives, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. Some were injured, others bound and gagged. The traffickers barked orders, shoving their captives toward the trucks.
I gritted my teeth, fury igniting in my chest. I didn't need to understand their language to know exactly what was happening. These people were being taken—stripped of their freedom, their dignity.
Not on my watch.
I dropped into the clearing with a burst of Soru, landing in the middle of their operation. The traffickers recoiled, momentarily stunned by my sudden appearance.
"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, though I knew they wouldn't understand. My voice carried, and my wings flared wide, the blue flames crackling at their edges.
The leader, a man with a scar across his face, barked something in Portuguese. His men raised their weapons, but I was faster.
The first bullet missed, whizzing past my head. The second never got a chance. I twisted with Kami-e, my body moving like water, and closed the distance with Soru. My fist, hardened with Armament Haki, struck one man square in the chest, sending him flying into a tree.
The others shouted in panic, some fumbling with their guns while others charged me with machetes.
It was chaos. I dodged, weaved, and struck, my movements a blur of speed and power. One of them managed to swing at me, but my flames surged instinctively, melting the blade before it could reach me.
A slash of Rankyaku took out the tires of the trucks, ensuring no one was going anywhere.
Within minutes, the traffickers were either unconscious or fleeing into the jungle. I let them go. The jungle had its own justice for cowards like them.
I stood in the aftermath, the blue flames around me flickering softly as the traffickers lay scattered and defeated. My chest heaved as I looked at the cages full of frightened faces. They huddled together, their fear palpable even though the danger was gone.
I approached the nearest cage cautiously, not wanting to scare them further. The lock snapped under my strength, and I pulled the door open. The captives didn't move at first, their eyes darting between me and the flames still dancing on my wings.
I frowned, unsure how to calm them. With a deep breath, I willed the flames to shrink, dimming their intensity. The flames obeyed, retreating into a soft, flickering glow.
One of the captives, a young woman, limped as she tried to step forward, her leg injured. Without thinking, I knelt beside her, extending my hand.
The flames on my wings shifted, flowing toward her like water. They enveloped her injured leg, glowing brighter for a moment before fading away. I watched, stunned, as the injury vanished entirely, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished.
I stared at my hands, then at her. This isn't like Marco's flames... Mine actually heal completely.
The others began to murmur, their tones filled with tentative hope. I moved to the next person, an older man with deep cuts on his arms. My flames worked just as effortlessly, closing wounds and restoring strength.
I didn't say a word as I led them through the jungle. Communication was pointless—I couldn't understand them, and they couldn't understand me. But they followed, their steps guided by trust in the strange boy with wings of fire.
The journey was slow but steady. Whenever someone faltered, I used my flames to ease their pain. At night, I lit the way, the jungle's shadows retreating from the soft glow of my blue fire.
By the time we reached the outskirts of a small town, their exhaustion had turned to quiet relief. They didn't try to speak to me. Some glanced back as they walked toward the safety of their homes, their eyes filled with gratitude.
I didn't linger. I spread my wings and soared into the sky, disappearing into the jungle canopy.
Meanwhile, in Gotham
Far away, in the depths of the Batcave, Bruce Wayne stood before his monitor, his cowl casting shadows across his face. On the screen was grainy footage from a satellite—a child, no older than five or six, with massive black wings and blue-yellow flames fighting off armed traffickers in the Amazon rainforest.
The footage ended, replaced by an image of the boy leading the freed captives through the jungle. Bruce's sharp eyes lingered on the flames, analyzing every flicker.
"Blue and yellow flames... black wings…" he murmured to himself. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"Interesting."
With a flick of his hand, he pulled up files on metahumans and unidentified anomalies. His focus remained on the boy. Whatever—or whoever—he was, Bruce knew one thing for certain.
This child was worth investigating.
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