THE DEVIL'S FRUIT

Chapter 2: Eternal Night

February 24th, 2025. That was the day the world ended quietly, without warning, without even a scream.

No sirens. No desperate radio broadcasts. One moment humanity stood proud, the masters of their world, and the next, darkness poured across the Earth like spilled ink swallowing a page.

Everywhere, chaos erupted. Armies fired at shadows that laughed at bullets. Tanks were torn apart like paper toys. Rockets flared and vanished into the void as if swallowed whole by the night itself.

The darkness didn’t come like an army. It came like a disease, spreading, devouring, leaving only silence in its wake. Nations fell in minutes. Leaders disappeared mid-command. The proudest cities of humankind turned to dust, swallowed by something no weapon could touch.

It seemed the story of mankind had reached its final line.

And then, one man refused the ending.

Alone among the ruins, he faced the monsters that had devoured the world and killed one with his bare, bleeding hands. When the creature died, it released something strange, an ethereal mist that shimmered like light trapped in smoke. They called it Vita.

At first, it seemed harmless. Then it changed everything.

That essence seeped into the air, into the veins of those still alive, reshaping them in body and soul. The survivors weren’t quite human anymore. Stronger, yes. Faster. But also something else, something unpredictable, frightening.

And so began the second war, the war for what was left of the world.

Cities burned until there was nothing left to burn. Hope died, and despair became humanity’s only constant companion. Yet, just when all seemed lost, that same man who had first slain the darkness gave his life once more. With the last of his strength, he raised a colossal barrier, a shimmering dome of light that covered a third of the Earth, shielding what remained of humankind from the abyss beyond.

Inside the dome, life clawed its way back from extinction. Nature grew wild again. Civilization stitched itself together with trembling hands. But even miracles come with cracks, and the dome was no exception.

Three hundred and ninety-five years passed. The old world faded into myth, and a new one, fragile, fierce, and scarred, rose from the ashes.

And in the heart of this fragile world lay Aric Blackthorn, ninth-born heir of House Blackthorn, motionless on a grand bed fit for a king.

To anyone watching, he looked peaceful. But inside his mind raged storms fierce enough to break gods.

He was dreaming, or rather, trapped in a nightmare.

The night around him was absolute. The moon hung high but offered no light, only watching coldly as the world below froze under its silence. The forest breathed death. Wind whispered through the trees, slicing through the dark like knives.

A child clung to a woman’s back, small arms wrapped tight around her neck. His tiny heart hammered against her chest, beating in sync with her own. Her silver hair streamed behind her, a shining ribbon against the endless black.

She was running for her life, and for his.

Terror lived in her heartbeat, in every trembling breath. It infected the boy’s own fear until it became his entire world.

When he glanced over her shoulder, his breath froze. Behind them, a wall of black smoke rolled forward, devouring trees, earth, and sky. The darkness wasn’t chasing them, it was consuming everything.

The boy gripped tighter. The woman’s arms tightened too, her muscles burning as she sprinted through the nightmare.

They broke into a clearing, and the world seemed to stop. Blood soaked the ground, bodies torn apart lay scattered like shattered dolls. The boy whimpered, trembling as the woman stroked his hair with shaking fingers, desperate to keep him calm.

Her eyes darted wildly until they fell on a broken carriage nearby. She ran to it, fell to her knees, and pried open a hidden compartment in the wreckage.

When she looked at him, her expression broke something inside him, grief and love, fierce and unbearable.

Her voice trembled, but her eyes burned steady. “Aric…”

His lips quivered. “M-Mother?”

She gave a fragile smile, her tears shining in the dim light.

“I’m going to do something terrible,” she said softly, “something that will hurt you for the rest of your life.”

He shook his head, but she pressed a hand to his cheek. Her touch was warm, trembling. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. You’ll probably hate me someday. And that’s okay.”

“Mother?” His small voice cracked, full of fear.

Her breath hitched as she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “But no mother,” she whispered, “can stand by and watch her child die.”

Her hand trembled against his skin, glowing faintly with power. “You must live, Aric. Promise me.”

“Where’s Father? What’s happening?” His tears came fast now, falling onto her hands.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pressed her palm to his forehead. Warmth, pure and heavy, poured through him, flooding his veins with exhaustion. His body grew limp.

“I love you, Kai,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Always.”

She kissed his forehead once, then placed him gently into the hidden compartment.

He tried to reach for her, to scream her name, but his body wouldn’t move.

The lid closed. Darkness swallowed him.

He heard her voice, faint through the soil and wood. Then came the sound of earth shifting, the world closing over him.

Ten seconds of silence.

Then the ground above erupted, fire, roars, the world shattering. The air trembled with battle cries and explosions.

That was her lullaby to him, war and sacrifice.

Thirty-nine seconds later, silence again.

Buried beneath the cold earth, powerless, the boy lay awake, hating every second of it.