Shanks Backstory (Extra)
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Shanks pushed his body up as he glanced at the tree. He had just completed his daily routine, wearing nothing but a pair of black trousers.
EXHALE
He let out a deep breath and looked around at the rocky terrain. It was a sharp contrast to the lush East Forest.
'Gildarts has started planning his wedding.'
'Well, it is the West Forest,' Shanks thought with a chuckle. He looked over at the rock where he had placed his clothes and training sword.
"Should I go?" he asked himself but ultimately decided against it. He still had training to do.
INHALE
He drew in a deep breath and stretched his right arm as he did, channeling his magic power. From the center of his palm, a dark reddish-black energy formed.
One glance at the swirling energy and anyone could tell—it was dangerous.
The energy shot out like a bolt of lightning, striking a nearby boulder. It shattered the stone instantly.
"It's no use just destroying boulders," Shanks muttered as he lowered his arm. His thoughts drifted to his previous life as a normal man.
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Past Life
He had always been a bright boy. Though his looks were average, years spent training in the gym had definitely boosted his appearance. He wasn't a bodybuilder or anything.
He was a fighter.
Not just metaphorically—literally.
His dream had always been to join the UFC, and he trained relentlessly for it. His genetics weren't elite, but that didn't stop him. He trained harder. Smarter.
He grew, and with that growth, his vision expanded. The gym was no longer his jungle—he began competing. And with competition came losses.
But those losses only made him stronger.
"What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."
Defeat never broke him. Instead, he used every setback like fuel, pouring it into the ever-burning fire in his heart.
And that fire didn't fade.
It blazed through local circuits, and eventually, his dream was within reach.
"UFC is sending someone to scout you."
"I know for a fact you're getting signed."
"You're the most hardworking guy I've ever met."
"If you make it, you'll be one of the youngest fighters ever."
"I knew betting on you was the right move."
And then—just before he could show the world who he really was—he was gunned down during a morning jog.
'I guess beating that fighter wasn't the smartest move. They did tell me not to…'
He remembered bleeding out on the pavement.
'Guess I won't be making it to the UFC.'
His life flashed before his eyes.
"I don't regret it," he whispered with a faint smile.
And just like that—Shanks died.
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