The Bloody Fist

To the Howl of Wolves

At the crack of dawn, roused by the distant howl of wolves, Louay stirred from his sleep. He rubbed his left eye and yawned.

He stood and stepped out of the cave. The sky was still dark.

"Huh… it's dawn. Annoying, but not bad either. I need to prepare myself now," he murmured.

A strange feeling hovered within him — a mix of irritation and resolve.

He made his way to the beach, about fifty meters from the cave. On the way, he spotted coconut trees. Picking up a stone, he threw it at the cluster of coconuts — and missed.

Embarrassed, he muttered, "Not my fault. The tree's just too tall."

For five minutes he kept tossing stones, sometimes shaking the trunk. Eventually, three coconuts fell to the ground.

He sighed in relief. "That'll be enough for today."

Carrying the coconuts to the beach, he dipped his foot in the water.

"Eek! That's cold…"

He flinched, but pressed on, wading in further.

"It's not the first time, anyway," he said aloud, recalling the times he used to bathe in freezing water during winter back in his world.

He washed the coconuts with his hands, placed them on a nearby rock, removed his clothes, and stepped into the sea.

"Phew... that's refreshing."

He floated there, letting the cold waves numb his senses. He stayed for about half an hour, until the first light of sunrise crept over the sea. Getting out, he began jogging along the shore to dry off.

"No towel. Running will do… Though it's a little embarrassing like this. I need to find a solution — I can't keep living like this."

As he ran, something caught his eye: the rising sun, half-lifted from the horizon, casting golden light across the sea while seagulls glided overhead.

"Wow… If only I had my phone…"

Then he suddenly remembered — he was still stark naked.

"Ah, right… I forgot."

He returned to the rock where he had left his things, slipped into his underwear, white shirt, and black pants, cradled the coconuts, and made his way back to the cave.

As he approached, he realized he'd eaten all his food the night before.

"Seriously? That's annoying."

Frustrated, he weighed his options.

"Sigh… I'll head into town and use the seven beli I have left to buy breakfast. But I need to be careful not to draw attention… even my clothes don't match this world."

Chuckling bitterly to himself, he slipped seven gold coins into his right pocket and set off.

The town was about two kilometers away. After thirty minutes of brisk walking, it came into view.

"I need to move quickly and keep my head down. Though, honestly… the people here probably have bigger problems than some random stranger."

He tried to reassure himself as he entered the town, hands tucked in his pockets. He moved toward an old store that looked abandoned and slipped inside.

As soon as he stepped in, he bumped into someone.

"Ah… excuse me," he said quickly, looking up.

His eyes widened.

The man before him was at least five times his size, his skin a dark blue, hands covered in scales, with fins between his fingers, shark-like ears and jagged fangs. His nose was shaped like a harpoon — unmistakably inhuman.

Arlong... This is bad. Really bad. He's not supposed to be here yet…

Panic gripped Louay. His body tensed. Just my luck… I'm going to die early in this world.

Trying to hide his fear, he turned toward the door to slip out.

Then came a voice — deep and guttural, like a shark growling through a human throat.

"Wait."

"Why are you leaving? No, more importantly… who are you? I've never seen you around here before."

Louay was speechless. The fear in his gut tightened like a noose.

This is it… I'm dead.

He opened his mouth to reply — but his voice stumbled.

"...I-I'm…"

"He's my nephew."

A coarse, cracking voice interrupted.

Louay blinked. The old man?

"My nephew? That's a lie," Arlong growled.

With a snarl, he smashed the table next to him with a single swing of his arm — reducing it to splinters.

The air grew thick with tension.

The old man, face grim beneath a black hat, stepped forward and tossed a pouch of coins toward Arlong.

"Here's his tax. Forgive me for hiding him."

Arlong grinned.

"Ha… Now that's what I like to see. But don't let this happen again, old man. Next time, it won't just be splinters."

He scoffed, turned, and shoved Louay hard as he passed. Louay slammed into the wall, the impact cracking it behind him. Arlong vanished.

Slowly, Louay rose, blood in his eyes and a twisted grin on his lips.

Don't worry. Soon… you'll be the first I kill.

He turned to the old man.

"Sorry for the trouble," he said, brushing off the dust.

The old man nodded slightly. His weary gray eyes remained unreadable beneath the brim of his hat.

"Water. And some meat," Louay requested, placing the seven beli on the counter.

The old man returned three.

"Keep the rest."

Louay hesitated. Then asked, "What should I call you?"

"Ajir."

The old man's voice was barely above a whisper.

Louay smiled faintly and looked toward the sky.

"I'm Louay. You'll be hearing that name a lot in the future."

After Louay left, the old man muttered to himself:

"Louay… strange name. Never heard it before."

---

On his way back, Louay noticed a massive tree.

"This one looks good…"

He tucked the meat and water inside his shirt and climbed up, a grin spreading across his face.

Settling on a thick branch, he placed the water beside him and the bag of cooked meat in his lap. He bit into it, chewed, took a sip from the bottle to help him swallow.

I'll start with Armament Haki… hmm, it'll hurt, but that's the point. The more I endure, the stronger I become.

He swallowed and continued thinking.

As I recall, there are three types of Haki. Armament Haki allows me to coat my body or weapons in invisible armor — it lets me strike Logia users and boosts both attack and defense. Then there's Observation Haki, which lets me sense the presence, emotions, and intent of others — advanced users can even see a bit into the future. And finally, the rarest one… Conqueror's Haki. Only one in a million have it — it lets you dominate others by sheer will, knocking them unconscious or intimidating them.

Louay exhaled. "I hope I can awaken it too."

Then his eyes snapped open.

"No... I know how to get it."

He grinned stupidly, finished his meal, and jumped from the tree.

"Alright… time to find a good training tree."

He wandered through the forest, carrying the leftover meat and water until he found one — a thick trunk, at least two meters wide.

"Perfect."

He placed his things under a nearby tree and faced the trunk.

Taking a fighting stance, he breathed in deeply. The breeze danced through his long black hair.

He stepped back, then charged and punched the tree.

Thud.

"Argh!"

Pain shot through his arm. It hung limp at his side.

"Heh… that's exactly what I need."

He laughed, and punched again. And again. Each time, blood sprayed from his knuckles, staining his clothes. Eyes shut, he focused on channeling energy from his heart to his limbs, as he'd seen in the story.

He punched once. Twice. Thrice...

The pain worsened at first — but slowly dulled. Numbness took its place.

He kept going until the sun dipped below the horizon.

Then, breathless and aching, he recalled that morning's encounter.

"No… This isn't nearly enough."

He grit his teeth, wound up, and struck the tree with everything he had — eyes shut tight.

In that moment, he saw something — a flash of black, like a void.

But the punch left no mark on the tree. He scowled.

"Damn it… This is going to take a while. That's enough for today."

He limped to collect his things — but his arms refused to move.

"Looks like both arms are shot."

Sighing, he cradled the bottle and the bag with his elbows and returned to the cave.

Crack…

After he left, a long fracture slowly appeared on the tree's trunk.

---

Back at the cave, Louay exhaled.

His clothes were soaked in blood.

"Sigh. This is annoying… I need to clean up. No choice — back to the beach."

Exhausted, arms hanging lifelessly, he stumbled back to the shore.

With difficulty, he stripped and walked into the sea — fully clothed — to wash both himself and his garments.

The water around him slowly turned red.

He rinsed the blood from his hands, washed his clothes, then bathed. Emerging from the sea, he wandered the shore, collecting coconut leaves.

He fashioned a crude outfit from them, then returned to the cave.

Using a flint stone he'd found on his first day, he lit a fire and hung his blood-soaked clothes to dry.

"Wearing leaves isn't nearly as comfortable as I thought."

Disappointed, he wrapped his hands in strips of cloth torn from the bottom of his pants and sat down.

He took the leftover meat from earlier and took a bite.

That's when he remembered the coconuts he'd picked that morning — forgotten and now useless with his current injuries.

Suddenly, he began to choke.

He tried to open the bottle — but his fingers wouldn't respond.

"…Hahahaha."

He burst into laughter — not from joy, but from the absurdity of it all.

Laughter that mocked his weakness. That spat in the face of his pain.