The morning was usual. Daryl had been sitting on his carpet in his room, drinking tea from a chipped mug. The trio had been in his room too, eating breakfast. Aisho had been devouring a bowl of Daryl’s leftover noodles as Trace sat by the window.

  “How do you like it here in Nisim?” Yuta leaned against the wall, picking through fruit. “Charisma Girl.”

  “Mmph! Ish amazhing!” Aisho mumbled with a mouthful of noodles.

  “Manners, please,” Daryl said, not even looking Aisho’s way.

  “Sorry!” Aisho admitted. “These noodles are so good I couldn’t stop eating. Wait—did you just call me Charisma Girl? I thought I asked you to not call me that anymore.”

  They all heard a deep, bone-shaking horn from the horizon.

  He stayed calm and closed his eyes for a moment, using his Yogen ability to view the main city. Black sails crested the sea, bearing a twisted insignia: a crimson serpent coiled around a shattered anchor. Baratok.

  The three looked up at once.

  “They’re here,” Daryl said grimly. “Baratok.”

  Yuta’s eyes sharpened, and she finally picked out an apple from the fruit bowl. “Who?”

  “Baratok, it’s a powerhouse pirate city,” Daryl said. “But why would they be here, of all places?”

  Daryl’s voice turned sharp. “Get your gear. Now. You’re not students this morning. You’re defenders of this island.”

  They didn’t hesitate after that.

  Within minutes, the trio emerged from their rooms in their original outfits.

  Yuta wore her white hoodie and black skirt.

  Aisho with her golden outfit.

  Trace had rewrapped his right arm beneath bandages, put on jeans, red scarf, and grey shirt.

  They followed Daryl as he led them out of the West Ward and into the main city. They could see smoke beginning to rise from the far docks.

  “You’re not going to fight every pirate,” Daryl said, voice hard but calm. “You’ll protect the people. You’ll stop what you can. And you’ll survive.”

  By the time they reached the streets, the once-bustling morning market had turned into chaos. Stalls were overturned, barrels of rice split open across the street. Screams echoed down the alleyways.

  Without hesitation, Aisho grinned, activated her Yogen, and sprinted into the thick smoke, headfirst into battle.

  “Aisho! You can’t just—” Yuta gritted her teeth, sighed then ran after her.

  Daryl yelled. “Wait! We need to—” He dropped his head, then looked toward Trace. “Go ahead, kid.”

  Trace smiled.

  “I’ll make sure Baratok pays,” he said, running after Yuta.

  Aisho quickly made her way to a large marketplace and heard a woman scream down an alley. She came to a halt and walked towards the noise. She met eyes with three pirates wearing red bandanas and ragged clothes. The largest one carried a sword on his back. The other two having a dagger on their hip. They were trying to rip a purse out of the hands of a helpless woman.

  “Hey, you three, stop there!” Aisho called.

  “Yow? Wah you planning to do, little gyal?” said one pirate.

  “Eh, wah di deal wid di goofy goggles, eh?” Another one said.

  “Yow hush up, fool. You get yuh turn after,” The largest one said.

  The group of pirates chuckled. Their voices were laced with a heavy Jamaican accent.

  She was visibly offended but tried to keep her composure. Aisho cracked her knuckles. “Nah, I think I’ll have my turn now.” She slowly began to walk towards the pirates.

  The goons looked at each other before the largest one drew his sword out of its holster. “You lookin’ for a fight?” He said.

  Aisho didn’t say a word; she just grinned.

  “Eh?! Wah so funny, eh?!” He charged forward, sword in hand.

  In a golden blur of speed, Aisho blitzed forward and landed a devastating punch to the gut.

  “Wha—bloodclaat… yuh a Dragon Vein user?!” He winced as his sword clattered to the ground. He bent over holding his stomach.

  Aisho finished him off with a kick to his head, causing him to get knocked unconscious.

  The other pirates watched, speechless. “Y-Ya really is a Dragon Vein user!”

  Aisho continued to walk towards them, trying to stay calm. The one with the dagger sprinted towards Aisho, aiming his attack.

  He eventually came within range and slashed at her. Effortlessly, Aisho sidestepped his attack and countered with a punch face.

  He stumbled backward and dropped his dagger. He held his face in agony. “RAH! Dragon Vein users… really dis strong?!”

  Aisho ignored him—punching him once more, knocking him out.

  Looking at their fallen teammates, the final pirate ran.

  Feeling triumphant, but also trying to act nonchalant, did a small fist pump.

  The woman that she saved approached her, clasping Aisho by her hands. “Thank you so much,” the woman said. “I’m forever in debt to you.”

  “Seriously, it’s no problem, ma’am. You should get to safety.”

  The woman gave Aisho a warm smile and ran away.

  ***

  The shore was loud with chaos.

  Trace jogged past the last row of city structures. A plume of smoke curled into the sky. At the docks, the massive black ship of Baratok had moored like a monster, sails rippling with the crimson insignia of a coiled serpent and broken anchor. Barrels of food, crates of gold and jewelry, and captured artifacts were being hauled up the ship’s ramp by grinning pirates.

  Trace ducked behind a broken stack of fishing nets, catching his breath. His left hand itched to throw a disc, snap the spiritual lines in half, and end the looters with a flick. But something felt wrong. A powerful Dragon Vein energy is in the air.

  Then he saw him.

  It was a tall figure on the dock, bare-chested. He wore baggy camo pants with brown boots. Broad shoulders and tattoos crawling across his huge stomach. Trace knew that this man had to be a Dragon Vein user.

  And he saw him too.

  The pirate lord slowly raised a hand and pointed toward Trace. His voice came out deep and laced with a Jamaican lilt.

  “Yow… You over deh! You hiding like a rat, but I smell fire in yuh blood. Come out.”

  The pirate goons stopped upon hearing the commotion.

  Trace stood up slowly, brushing dust from his jacket. “And who are you?”

  He gave a slow nod. “Name’s Badrick. Good. Den let me learn who you be, bwoy.”

  The pirates around the dock stopped their work. Some perched on crates. Others leaned against barrels, fingers wrapped around hilts and guns. As Trace stepped closer to Badrick, they encircled the open space like an arena, forming from the wreckage.

  Trace’s body trembled.

  “Trace, and I ain't here for theatrics,” he said, stepping forward into the loose ring. “Get off our island.”

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  Badrick chuckled. “Is dat so? Right now. Let’s see who flame burns brighter.”

  He stood across from each other for a moment. Badrick slowly crouched down to touch the wooden dock. The crowd of pirates slowly counted down from five to one and shouted.

  “Go!”

  Trace took that as his cue. “Fine.”

  His right arm burned beneath the wrapping. He ignored it and instead flung his left hand forward.

  A black disc shimmered into existence, intangible and silent. It flew toward Badrick, aiming a cut at his Dragon Vein network.

  Badrick moved calmly, sidestepping the disc. “Ah. Yuh a tricky one.”

  His veins pulsed orange all across his body. His knuckles flared into a fire as he pressed his hands onto the wood. A trail of red light snaked across the ground from his right foot, veering sideways until it stopped behind Trace, erupting in a geyser of fire bursting from the wood. Trace barely dodged it, rolling sideways.

  Trace took a moment to try and figure out his enemy's Yogen: His fire follows the trail. Whatever he touches, it’s like a path.

  Trace charged forward, flinging two more void discs with his left hand, one aimed for the ground near Badrick’s feet, the other an arcing throw toward his side. One clipped the edge of Badrick’s right leg, temporarily snapping the spiritual thread in his leg.

  Badrick stumbled briefly. “Tch—!”

  Trace narrowed his eyes. “Got you.”

  Trace had to take advantage of this moment and finish his opponent quickly. Badrick wouldn't be able to channel his Dragon Vein energy into his right leg. Trace had purposely targeted that leg since it caused that trail of fire.

  He followed up with Palm Strike, slamming his right hand forward, not throwing a disc but unleashing a bullet of compressed air straight into Badrick’s chest. It landed, crackling with force and disrupting his Dragon Vein energy in his chest, forcing Badrick backward.

  The pirates around them hissed and shouted. But Trace knew that wasn’t enough.

  Badrick growled, then laughed, seemingly unfazed by Trace's Palm Strike.

  "Yuh hit harder dan I thought," he said. "But I seen boys like you… scared of their own fire. You hidin’ some tin?"

  The veins underneath Badrick’s pants surged. He lunged, faster than he looked, closing the gap with a swing. Veins pulsing in his fist.

  Mid-swing, his knuckles turned in flames.

  Trace managed to block the attack but staggered hard afterwards.

  Badrick stepped back and ignited the trail.

  Fire burst from Badrick's left foot in a straight line that curved unnaturally, turning corners like a serpent before coiling around. It was heading straight for Trace.

  “Yuh done been marked,” Badrick said. “Ain’t no use runnin’ now.”

  Trace tried to move out of the way, but the fire leaped from the wood and onto his foot, coiling up his body and wrapping his right forearm in a searing hot flame.

  “Yuh already dead, bwoy,” Badrick said. “Dat arm? Is gone.”

  The fire around Trace’s forearm exploded in a flame hot enough to take his arm off.

  He winced. His skin sizzled where the fire caught him. He looked over to see the damage, and the bandages on his forearm burned off. Trace saw his arm fully enveloped in a purple aura.

  What was that? He thought to himself. Did Shitsugen protect me?

  Then he heard another voice, the same as Shitsugen’s: Release me! Trace, make that filthy rat pay! How dare he attack you like that! Attack us!

  Trace felt his arm pulse even hotter. He struggled to contain his composure, but it was obvious that he couldn’t hold it any longer. Trace held his head in agony, struggling to control the urge.

  Badrick raised an eyebrow in disbelief that a mere boy managed to sustain his attack that was meant to blow off his right arm.

  The pirates circled tighter. One of them suddenly threw a rock, clocking Trace in the back of the head.

  “Yow! Burn him up, Badrick!” one pirate shouted.

  One kicked Trace as he tried to stand. Another slash near his leg, barely missing.

  Trace regained some sense and flung a right-handed disc, the physical one. Badrick dodged the disc, and it crashed into a crate.

  But his right arm throbbed after using it. His head rang once more. Use me… USE ME TRACE!

  Trace dropped to one knee. “No. I can’t…”

  He contemplated using the Seishinryu Line, but stopped.

  "I don’t need you, Shitsugen," he whispered to himself. “I’m strong enough on my own.”

  Badrick shot a fireball from his palm—a Kageuchi technique, forcing Trace to dodge left. Another pirate struck his back with a club, sending him tumbling.

  Badrick moved closer until he stood over Trace as he struggled to even get up.

  “Yuh fight like a man wit chains on his body,” he said. “I know ya have de power. Set yuhself free!”

  Trace gritted his teeth and channeled his Dragon Vein for another disc from his left hand. But the big man caught his wrist and gripped Trace's shoulder.

  “Marked again,” Badrick said.

  Trace didn’t even have time to brace before flame surged along the ground and erupted against his left shoulder. Once again, Shitsugen came to the rescue, cushioning the blow with his energy. Trace collapsed to the ground.

  Smoke rose from his jacket, now torn and burned. His vision blurred. Blood leaked from his mouth.

  Inside him, Shitsugen howled.

  Trace lay motionless on the ground, surrounded, defeated, and drained of most of his Dragon Vein energy. His lips barely moved. “…maybe I do need you…”

  Another lock on Shitsugen’s cage clanked open, leaving three locks left.

  Badrick approached his defeated foe. As Trace lay face down on the wooden planks, Badrick crouched to his level.

  The pirates roared around him, clapping, stomping, chanting his name like gladiators.

  Badrick grabbed Trace by the hair, lifting his limp head. Trace groaned, his lips cracked and bleeding, his eyes unfocused. A grin split Badrick’s face.

  “Dis is what happens,” he boomed, turning to the crowd, “when a child play man.”

  Then he slammed Trace’s face into the planks. Once.

  Crack.

  Twice.

  Blood splattered.

  Thrice.

  Wood groaned beneath the force. Trace’s nose broke. His lip split. His forehead burst open, and his vision fading.

  The crowd cheered louder. They were banging weapons against crates. A pirate banged a cowbell. Badrick was putting on a show.

  “Look at him now! Eh?! Dis de same bwoy who tink he could stand against my Dragon Vein?” He spat beside Trace’s head.

  Then, Badrick twisted Trace’s arms behind his back. He coiled his massive arm beneath Trace’s chin, locking his throat in a sleeper grip. He planted his foot and wrenched hard.

  Trace’s spine groaned. There was a sickening crunch. His eyes dulled. His body slumped.

  “Dead,” Badrick announced, his fist in the air.

  The crowd went rabid like a pack of hungry wolves. Yelling, chanting, screaming, praising.

  But then… something shifted.

  A suffocating, murderous Dragon Vein pressure filled the air. The laughter began to die, one chuckle at a time. Badrick still held the corpse-like body, but his eyes narrowed. Everyone in that area was frightened to move, to even breathe.

  Trace's body twitched. His fingers curled. His mouth opened slightly, and a rasping breath escaped, but it wasn’t his voice. “…You call that a killing blow?” the voice said.

  Then Trace’s eyes snapped open, glowing purple orbs. His right, clawed arm, began to twitch.

  Badrick stepped back, dropping Trace’s body. His instincts screamed. “No… no, dis ain’t right…”

  Trace’s arm transformed into a draconic arm, scaled and pulsing with dark purple energy. The fingers lengthened into claws. He stood up slowly, head down.

  “I’ve never been in a human body before,” his voice was now fully Shitsugen’s. “How about I murder everyone here, starting with you, fatso.”

  Shitsugen alone was enough to have the dock shuddering beneath him. The air dropped ten degrees. Pirates were forced to crouch low and back away from the sheer Dragon Vein pressure.

  “Fatso?” Badrick took a defensive stance, fire flaring up in his veins. “So dis is yuh real power, eh? Ya final form.”

  Trace didn't respond. He flashed forward with a snap of air and delivered a gut punch that put Badrick in the air for some time. The punch created a ripple of black energy around him that cracked several crates and sent nearby pirates flying away from the sheer energy.

  Trace didn’t wait. He followed up quickly with a kick that launched Badrick high into the air.

  Trace leapt into the air, meeting Badrick and slamming him back down, crashing into the wooden planks with a double-fist hammer in a plume of smoke. He was sent spiraling toward the ground.

  Trace stood suspended in the air, hovering.

  “Don’t black out yet. We just started,” Trace hissed.

  Badrick had withstood the attack and stood up. Wiping the blood seeping from his mouth.

  He grinned as he held out his draconic claw arm. A dark purple energy pooled into the palm of his claw as he pointed towards Badrick.

  Badrick saw Trace charging his attack and chose to charge his own. He held out his palms—one over the other—his hands glowed with a red fire light.

  He was charging another fireball Kageuchi skill, putting forth all his Dragon Vein energy.

  Once Trace had enough energy, he unleashed his purple energy strike towards Badrick as he unleashed a large stream of fire from his palms.

  The showdown was a marvel, seeing Trace’s purple clash with Badrick's red-hot fire—a cataclysm of opposing forces.

  Badrick thought he had the edge at first, but he was quickly mistaken when Trace’s dark aura easily extinguished his flames, and Badrick took the full force of the impact.

  Trace slowly descended with a crouch and slowly walked forward towards his foe lying on the ground, the wooden planks around him singed.

  The crowd had gone dead silent. Even the drunkest pirates now looked like they were seeing something wrong, something that shouldn’t exist.

  “What a shame, this vessel can only contain so much of my Dragon Vein energy without implosion,” Trace spat. “Fatso, you were clever to circulate your Dragon Vein energy to protect your body last second. In any other situation, your body would have been eviscerated.”

  Badrick staggered to his feet, one leg buckling. “You… you holdin’ back… all dis time.”

  “I wouldn’t say holding back,” Trace said while clenching and unclenching his claw. “More like… a realization.”

  Trace gripped Badrick by his throat using his mutated claw. He held him pretty easily despite his huge size.

  “You burnt this body. Now I’ll end you forever,” Trace laughed in his face. “But first, I’m going to need some of that Dragon Vein energy.”

  The veins in Badrick slowly shifted from red to purple.

  He wailed out in pain, unable to break free from Trace’s grip as Badrick’s Dragon Vein energy was slowly sapped from his body.

  That’s when a blur of red light moved through the scene.

  A palm strike to the chest. A gust of wind exploded outward, and Trace was sent flying backward into a pile of wreckage.

  Daryl stood there, his only functional hand still extended.

  “I’ve seen enough,” Daryl muttered. “This ain’t your fight anymore.”

  Trace tried to rise. But Daryl moved with precision, slamming his foot into Trace’s shoulder and sending another strike from his palm into Trace’s chest. The dragon arm spasmed, then slowly mutated back into its original state.

  Trace’s head fell, and he blacked out.

  “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?”

  — Mark 8:36 (NIV)