The sun hung low over the dense forest, its golden rays piercing through the thick canopy. Birds chirped, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Deep within this untouched wilderness, a young man walked cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings.
His name was Kael, a seventeen-year-old orphan raised by mercenaries. He had no noble blood, no grand destiny—just a hunger for strength.
He wiped sweat from his brow, his heart pounding. Rumors spoke of a hidden treasure in this forest—an Elohim Fruit. The mere thought of it sent a thrill through his veins.
"If I find it… I can finally change my fate," he muttered.
Kael pressed on, stepping over twisted roots and pushing aside thick vines. Hours passed, and just when exhaustion crept in—he saw it.
A single tree stood in the middle of a clearing, its bark smooth and silver. Hanging from its branches was a fruit unlike any other.
A deep crimson fruit with swirling black patterns.
It pulsed—like a beating heart.
Kael's breath hitched. "Is this… an Elohim Fruit?"
He reached out, his fingers trembling. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Once he ate this, his life would never be the same.
Then—a voice rang out.
"Don't touch it, boy."
Kael spun around, his hand dropping to the dagger at his waist. An old man stood at the edge of the clearing, his silver beard swaying in the wind. His eyes—sharp and piercing—held the weight of experience.
"Do you even know what kind of fruit that is?" the old man asked.
Kael swallowed. "An Elohim Fruit."
The old man nodded. "Correct. But do you know its type? Its cost?"
Kael hesitated. He didn't.
The old man sighed. "Some fruits bring power. Others bring destruction. Choose wrong… and you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Kael clenched his fists. He wasn't afraid.
He had spent his life as a weakling, looked down upon by stronger warriors. This was his chance to rise.
Without another word, Kael grabbed the fruit—and took a bite.