The forest was quiet that night.
The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the scent of smoke, pine, and freshly turned soil from the rebuilt Felyne village behind him. The fires there still burned — small, warm, alive — as if the land itself had decided to breathe again.
Hunnt sat alone on a stone near the outer wall, a half-burnt lantern flickering beside him. In his hands rested his field journal — the same worn notebook he had carried since the early days in Ravenshire. The pages were filled with notes written in tight, careful script — words born of blood, pain, and reflection.
But tonight, he wasn't writing for himself anymore.
He turned to a blank page and drew a slow breath. The ink bled into the parchment as he wrote.
> "To my brother in arms — Pyro."
> "What we build isn't power. It's purpose.
Rokushiki, Haki — these are not tools for glory or dominance.
They are ways to understand the world, and to move within it without losing yourself."
He paused, eyes tracing the ink as it dried. His hands were steady now — steadier than they'd ever been.
The words flowed like memory.
---
> "The Six Forms — Rokushiki — are more than techniques.
Each one reflects a principle of survival and spirit."
He began listing them one by one.
Soru – Step Beyond Fear
> "Speed isn't about escaping danger.
It's about moving faster than hesitation."
Tekkai – The Still Body
> "To endure is not to resist — it is to yield at the perfect moment."
Kami-e – The Flowing Mind
> "To bend without breaking is to master the rhythm of the world."
Geppo – The Leap of Faith
> "Freedom is not flight — it's the courage to stand where the ground ends."
Rankyaku – The Edge Within
> "The wind cuts because it knows where to stop.
Control defines sharpness."
Shigan – The Piercing Will
> "Precision comes not from strength, but from certainty."
He sat back, rereading the list. Each word carried not just training, but meaning — distilled from every fight, every scar.
---
He turned to a new page.
> "Haki is will made visible.
Observation sees the unseen.
Armament defends what matters.
Conqueror's commands the spirit — not to dominate, but to awaken."
His pen paused. His gaze drifted toward the distant mountains, where the faint heat shimmered — the same direction from which the monster had come, and would one day return.
> "If you ever feel the weight of your strength — remember: it's not for you alone.
The world doesn't need conquerors.
It needs protectors."
The ink bled slightly where the pen lingered. His jaw tightened. He could still remember the first time his Conqueror's Haki had awakened — uncontrolled, raw, terrifying. He had nearly crushed Pyro under its pressure.
He smiled faintly now. "Guess we both learned control the hard way."
---
The lantern flame flickered, dancing across his face.
He kept writing — not lessons anymore, but thoughts. Fragments of his life before this world, of how far he'd come.
> "Once, I was just someone playing a game — pretending to understand what it meant to fight monsters.
Now I know the truth: the real monsters are fear, pride, and the hunger for power.
Every battle teaches us which of those we carry inside ourselves."
He leaned back, looking at the pages filled with his handwriting. A strange peace settled over him.
He could still hear Pyro's laughter from the village — loud, sharp, familiar. It made him smile.
> "To the next who walks this path — learn from us, but do not follow us.
The path of the Wanderer isn't a road to walk; it's a promise to keep."
---
The fire in the lantern burned low. The shadows stretched long. He sat quietly for a time, listening to the night breathe — to the soft sounds of Felynes mending what had been broken, to the forest reclaiming its song.
For the first time in months, the air no longer felt heavy. There was no scent of blood, no whisper of dread. Only the quiet hum of life returning.
Hunnt closed the notebook gently, the leather cover warm beneath his hands. After a long moment, he whispered, "That's enough."
He rose, carrying the book to the small table inside his tent. From his satchel, he retrieved a fresh binding — leather straps, a clean sheet, and a faint engraving tool. He spent the next hour reforging the cover, binding the older pages together with new ones Pyro could add to later.
When he was done, the title gleamed faintly in the lantern light:
One Piece
> By iAmElder — Founder of the Eternal Wanderer Path
Below the title, in smaller script, he wrote:
> "Passed to Pyro — Keeper of the Second Teachings."
He tied the book shut and set it beside his pack, his hand resting over it briefly.
"Your turn, partner."
---
The dawn came pale and quiet.
Hunnt stood at the village gate, looking back one last time. The Felynes were still asleep, their fires burning low. He could see Pyro's small shape curled near the training square, the notebook clutched close to his chest even in sleep.
Hunnt smiled faintly. "Don't lose it," he murmured. "Or I'll come back for you."
He adjusted his cloak, turning toward the path that led east — deeper into the wilds, toward the unknown horizon.
For a moment, he hesitated. He looked down at his gauntlets, their once-black steel dulled from travel and flame. The scars on his hands glowed faintly in the morning light — silent reminders of what he'd fought for.
He raised one fist slightly, letting the breeze pass through his fingers. "Ravenshire… Felynes… Pyro… You gave me reason to keep walking."
The forest answered with a rustle of leaves.
Hunnt took his first step east.
Each stride carried a quiet rhythm — a heartbeat in motion, steady and certain. He didn't rush. The world around him was waking: birds stirring, insects humming, the sound of flowing water returning to the valley.
Behind him, the Felyne village began to glow in the first touch of sunlight. Smoke rose in thin streams from their chimneys, carrying warmth instead of sorrow.
And though Hunnt did not turn back, he felt it — the faint, enduring connection between himself and the small Palico who slept with the book in his arms.
That bond was his promise.
---
As he reached the ridge overlooking the valley, he stopped one last time. The world ahead was vast — forests fading into plains, plains breaking into mountains, mountains vanishing into mist.
He closed his eyes and listened.
The air was still, yet within it he sensed something familiar — that faint tremor of will, the echo that had once shaken the sky. Only now, it didn't roar. It hummed, calm and alive, as if the world itself carried his oath forward.
He smiled. "Then keep it, world. Keep it alive until I return."
He adjusted his pack, pulled his cloak tight, and walked on — a lone figure disappearing into dawn's light.
And somewhere in that quiet village, a small Felyne stirred from his dreams, clutching the book tighter as if he could feel Hunnt's will through the pages.
The firelight flickered once, catching the symbol carved into the book's spine —
the black circle, the upward triangle, the clenched fist within.
The mark of the Eternal Wanderer.