Chapter 7: Forged in Flames

The sun had barely risen when Thorfinn stood on the rocky Cliffside, the wind whipping through his hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon. It was a quiet moment, the kind that didn't come often in his life. After Garp had shared the story of his father, Thorfinn felt something stir within him—a fire that was more than just the Lunarian flames that burned inside him. It was the call of the sword, the legacy of a warrior who had fought for a cause greater than himself.

But now, as he stood alone on the precipice, he knew that his path wouldn't be easy. He wasn't just fighting to master his powers; he was fighting to carve out a new identity for himself, one that would honour his father's legacy while also confronting the darkness within him. Every step forward would be a challenge.

"Big bro, what are you doing?" Luffy's voice broke through the stillness, and Thorfinn turned to see his younger brother bounding toward him, his trademark grin plastered across his face.

"I'm training," Thorfinn replied, his voice calm but filled with a quiet intensity. "Trying to become a swordsman."

Luffy tilted his head, his enthusiasm never wavering. "A swordsman? That sounds awesome! Can I train with you?"

Thorfinn smiled faintly, ruffling Luffy's hair. "It's not going to be easy, Luffy. Being a swordsman takes a lot of discipline. But if you really want to, I can show you some basics."

Luffy's eyes lit up. "I'm ready! Let's go!"

Thorfinn chuckled softly, the weight on his shoulders lightening just a little at his brother's infectious energy. It was moments like this—when Luffy looked up to him with such genuine admiration—that Thorfinn felt a sense of responsibility settle deeper within him. He was no longer just Thorfinn. He was the big brother, the protector. And if he was going to walk the path of a swordsman, he had to be ready to lead.

But even as Luffy eagerly followed him, asking a million questions, Thorfinn knew that his true test was yet to come. He had to master his Lunarian powers, control the flames and wings that constantly threatened to erupt. That chaos, that raw power, was a part of him. But he couldn't let it consume him. Not if he was going to be the swordsman he aspired to be.

Over the next few days, Thorfinn focused on training—training with the sword, training his body, and most importantly, training his mind. Garp had been tough on him, pushing him past his limits, demanding more with each passing day. The old man was relentless, but Thorfinn welcomed it. He needed this.

He began by practicing basic sword forms, the movements slow and deliberate. His body ached with the effort, his muscles protesting against the rigorous training. But he pushed through, his focus razor-sharp. Every swing of the blade was an attempt to forge something new within himself. He wasn't just swinging a sword—he was shaping his future.

The first few days were the hardest. His Lunarian powers surged within him every time he swung the sword too forcefully, the flames threatening to burst from his body, the wings fluttering in an uncontrolled frenzy. Thorfinn had to force himself to remain calm, to steady his breath, to remember that he couldn't afford to lose control.

It was then that Garp appeared, watching from the shadows. "You're trying too hard," Garp said gruffly, stepping into the clearing. "You're forcing it. You'll never be able to control that power if you don't learn to channel it properly."

Thorfinn lowered his sword, frustration flashing in his eyes. "How do I control it, Garp? I've been training for years, but it still feels like the power has a mind of its own. It's like I can never fully control it."

Garp's eyes softened, his tone more measured than usual. "It's not about controlling it through force, Thorfinn. It's about understanding it. The sword is like the flame inside you—if you try to smother it, it'll burn you. But if you let it burn naturally, you can harness it. A swordsman doesn't fight with brute force alone. It's about focus. About balance."

Thorfinn's brow furrowed. "Balance? But how do I find that balance?"

Garp chuckled. "By doing something you're not doing right now—taking a step back. Don't focus on your powers, or your sword. Focus on yourself. Focus on your heart. If you want to be like Oden, you need to learn what he knew—being a swordsman isn't about being the strongest. It's about being the person you need to be when the time comes."

Thorfinn's chest tightened. It was strange—he had always thought of swords as tools of destruction, as weapons that could cut through anything. But now, Garp's words planted a seed in his mind. Perhaps it wasn't about destroying what was in front of him. It was about finding the right moment, the right cause, to fight for.

That night, as he sat alone by the fire, Thorfinn felt the weight of Garp's words settle deep in his heart. He wasn't just training to be a swordsman for the sake of strength. He was training to protect. He was training to be someone his brothers could rely on.

The next day, Thorfinn woke before dawn and headed to the training grounds. He stood there, the sword in his hand, his heart quiet. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't focused on the power that surged within him. He wasn't thinking about the Lunarian fire or the wings that could tear through the sky. He was thinking about the sword. And what it represented.

He swung the blade again, his movements smoother now, more natural. His Lunarian powers still stirred inside him, but he didn't try to suppress them. Instead, he let them flow, guiding them as part of his movements, shaping the energy into something more controlled. The flames flickered at the edges of his sword, but they didn't overwhelm him. His wings stretched behind him, but they didn't explode. For the first time, Thorfinn felt the balance Garp had spoken of.

When he finished, he stood there, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face. But there was no fear. No panic