Koa made his way back to his temporary residence—a cabin he had built himself using tools he had quietly stolen from the citizens of God Valley while they slept. The structure was modest in design but impressive in size, measuring over five meters in length and standing three meters tall. To keep it hidden, Koa always used the Snake Talisman to render it invisible, ensuring no wandering eyes stumbled upon it by chance. From the outside, it blended seamlessly into the forest, as though it were nothing more than part of the landscape.
Inside, however, the cabin was functional and well-kept. A simple bed and a sturdy wooden table were all he needed for rest and planning. Upon entering, Koa carefully placed his travel bag—now containing a Devil Fruit and a collection of gold coins—into a small, hidden cabinet built into the wall.
Then, activating the power of the Rooster Talisman, Koa stepped outside and turned his attention to a massive section of forest floor he had previously dug out. With a thought, he began lifting an entire portion of the earth—over 1000 tons of dirt—into the air as if he were hoisting it with his arms. Despite the overwhelming mass, the talisman's power allowed him to bear it, though it still taxed his stamina heavily. As the massive chunk of terrain rose, Koa cloaked it with the Snake Talisman, rendering the floating mass invisible to any potential onlookers.
Every action was deliberate. Every measure was a layer of caution. Koa knew he couldn't afford to be reckless—not in this world, not with who he was.
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After securing his valuables and concealing the floating mass of earth, Koa began his daily training. He stepped into a small clearing beside his invisible cabin and drew his twin battle axes—massive, weighted weapons that only someone with his strength could wield. They were the Labrys of the Abyss, heavy enough to crush boulders with a single swing. One rested in each of his hands.
With deliberate focus, he began his routine—swinging both axes in synchronized arcs, over and over, his muscles straining and sweat pouring down his brow. The rhythm of his movements was relentless, reminiscent of the training style of Roronoa Zoro, though adapted for dual heavy weapons instead of swords. Each swing tore through the air with a violent whoosh, shaking the ground slightly underfoot.
The weight of the axes was immense, but that was exactly the point. Koa wasn't just building strength—he was forging control, precision, and endurance. Every swing was a promise to himself: that when the world finally caught fire, he would be strong enough to rise from its ashes.
Koa's breath came in steady, controlled bursts as he continued swinging both axes in a relentless rhythm. Each movement was fluid yet brutal—every strike a display of raw power tempered by precise form. He pivoted on his heels, performing wide arcs and overhead slams, training not only his arms and shoulders, but his balance and footwork as well.
After a hundred swings with each hand, he transitioned into foot drills—charging forward and executing powerful cleaves into the air, followed by rapid retreats and dodging motions. Though there was no enemy in front of him, Koa visualized opponents with every move, imagining how they would strike and how he would counter.
Sweat now poured freely down his back, soaking through his shirt. But he didn't stop.
Next, he switched to endurance drills. Koa planted the twin axes into the earth, took a breath, and dropped into a low stance. He then began doing squats with both weapons resting across his shoulders like weighted bars. Each repetition burned through his thighs and core, but he embraced the pain. The body, he believed, was a tool—and pain was how that tool was sharpened.
Once the squats were done, Koa leapt high into the air using his powerful legs, twisting mid-air and swinging his axes downward in a simulated ground-splitting attack. Upon landing, the impact echoed through the forest clearing.
He repeated the move again.
And again.
And again.
Until his arms trembled and his breathing turned ragged.
But still, he pushed on.
This was his routine, day in and day out. Not for glory. Not for praise. But because Koa knew that someday, someone or something would come for him. And when that day arrived, he would be ready.
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After five grueling hours of relentless training, Koa's body was drenched in sweat, and his muscles throbbed with fatigue. His breathing was heavy, and even with his unnatural endurance, he knew he had reached his limit, for now. It was time to eat.
Without hesitation, he sheathed his axes on his back and walked to the edge of his floating sanctuary—a small private island he had carved out and lifted into the sky using the Rooster Talisman. Suspended 5,000 feet above the earth, hidden from the world, it served as both his fortress and his training ground.
With a calm exhale, Koa crouched and then launched himself from the edge of the island, plummeting through the clouds in free fall. Wind howled past his ears, tugging at his hair and clothes as the ocean rushed up to meet him.
He narrowed his eyes, spotting movement in the deep blue below. A Sea King—a massive, serpentine creature—surfaced near the edge of a rocky cove. Koa grinned.
Perfect.
As he neared the water, he twisted mid-air and summoned the power of his Ruaumoko Devil Fruit, summoning a tremor crack with his feet, as he speed up his fall towards the ocean With a thunderous crash, he pierced the ocean's surface like a meteor, vanishing into the depths in pursuit of his prey.
He wasn't done training—not yet.
But first, he would hunt.
And he would feast.
And after that, he would repeat his training in a much more grueling fashion, as if punishing himself for something he had never done. Pain and suffering became part of his routine—until he grew used to it, even welcomed it. All for survival.