Marvel: Familia System

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The journey across the ocean was as harsh as the captain had warned. The ship rocked violently against the waves, salt spray stinging Donald's face as he helped the crew secure loose lines. One night, as the ship cut through calmer waters, Donald stood at the bow, staring out at the endless expanse of dark water. The stars above seemed impossibly close, their light reflected in the waves below. A faint memory surfaced—himself as a boy, staring at a similar sky, feeling the same pull he felt now. It was a pull that had never fully left him, no matter how far he'd tried to run from it.

The captain approached, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the railing. "Most people get sick on these trips. You seem steady enough."

Donald chuckled, leaning against the railing. "Limping keeps me grounded, I guess."

The captain exhaled a stream of smoke, watching the stars. "Grounded or not, it's rare to see someone crossing like this without a bigger reason."

Donald didn't reply, letting the captain's words drift into the night air. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, the faint outline of Greenland beginning to emerge in the distance. His destination was still far off.

Greenland's coastline was harsh and unyielding, the wind cutting across the landscape as Donald stepped off the ship. The crew bid him farewell with little ceremony, the captain simply nodding before turning back to his work. Donald slung his bag over his shoulder, adjusted his coat against the cold, and began walking inland.

The towns he passed were small, their houses huddled together against the elements. He stopped briefly at a café, ordering coffee and a sandwich. The further he traveled, the more it seemed as if the icy air belonged to him in a way the cities and highways never had.

He continued through small settlements, where snow-covered rooftops seemed to huddle together for warmth. In one village, he found an older man attempting to repair a frozen water pump, his hands shaking from the chill. Donald set his cane aside and took the wrench from the man, tightening the stubborn bolts and restoring the water flow in minutes. The man offered thanks, but Donald waved him off, picking up his cane and heading back down the road without a word.

Each stop added to the rhythm of his journey. In another town, a young girl's sled had overturned in a snowdrift. Donald helped her set it upright, brushing the snow off the battered wood as she shyly offered him a small carved trinket in thanks. He tucked it into his pocket, nodding to her before moving on.

Days passed, marked only by the changing quality of the light. When he reached the coast, he boarded another ship, this one bound for Iceland. The captain eyed his limp but didn't ask questions as Donald handed over what little cash he had left. The vessel was old and creaked with every shift of the waves, but it cut steadily through the frigid waters. Donald kept to himself during the crossing, sitting near the bow and watching the endless expanse of grey water and ice. The cold bit deep, but it didn't bother him as much as it should have. Instead, it felt... natural, like it belonged to him.

In Iceland, the pull grew stronger. He hitched a ride with a farmer transporting hay, the man barely speaking as they drove through endless stretches of frozen fields. They passed a craggy cliff where the winds howled like restless spirits. The farmer glanced at Donald, his voice rough from disuse. "Not many take this road. You looking for someone?"

"Something," Donald replied, his gaze fixed ahead.

The man didn't press, dropping him off at the next village with a simple nod. Donald stayed the night in a small inn, where the innkeeper insisted he share a meal with the family. He watched the children chatter over bowls of stew, their voices loud and carefree. It was a warmth he hadn't known much of in his own childhood. Memories of cold rooms and stern voices surfaced briefly before he pushed them aside.

The next morning, Donald continued, walking when no rides were available. His cane tapped against the frozen ground as he passed solitary houses and abandoned fishing shacks. In one hamlet, he stopped to help a fisherman untangle a knotted net. The man, gruff but grateful, handed him a thick wool scarf before he left, saying only, "It's colder ahead."

Eventually, Donald reached the coast again. The pull was stronger now, a constant presence guiding him toward Norway. He found a fisherman willing to take him across the choppy waters for the price of labor. Donald worked alongside the small crew, hauling nets and securing lines as the boat pitched against the waves.

The mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks stark against the twilight. He felt a flicker of recognition, though he didn't understand why. This was a place he had never been, yet it felt like he had always known it.

Once on land, Donald resumed his journey. Norway's landscape was harsher than anything he'd faced so far, yet it welcomed him in a strange way. The forests were dense, the air sharp with the scent of pine and frost. He passed through villages where people spoke little but offered quiet hospitality. A woman handed him a loaf of bread without asking his name. An old man in a church let him warm himself by the fire, nodding in silent understanding when Donald left without explanation.

With every step, fragments of memory surfaced. He saw flashes of golden halls and long tables, of faces that blurred when he tried to focus on them. He remembered a voice—deep and commanding, yet filled with warmth. These images had haunted him since childhood, but now they felt closer, more tangible.

As a boy, he had often dreamed of a great tree stretching endlessly into the sky, its roots winding through an eternal expanse. Those dreams had always left him restless, the aching questions they stirred never answered. Even as an adult, the dreams persisted, though he'd tried to bury them under the weight of logic and reason.

Donald reached another small town nestled at the base of a mountain. Snow blanketed the rooftops, and smoke rose in thin spirals from chimneys. He stopped at a tiny general store, trading what little he had left for a pair of gloves and a wool hat. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with sharp eyes, studied him as she handed over the goods.

One night, he found himself camped in the shadow of a towering cliff. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it a sense of something ancient. Donald stared into the small fire he had built, the flames casting flickering shadows against the rock face. He felt the weight of his journey pressing down on him—the years of questions, the pain of not knowing where he truly belonged.

As he drifted to sleep, he dreamed again of the great tree. This time, the vision was clearer. He saw its branches stretching into the heavens, its roots winding through realms he couldn't name. A voice echoed in the distance, calling his name—not Donald, but something older, something truer. He woke with a start, the embers of his fire still glowing faintly.

He rose, brushing off the frost that had gathered on his coat, and resumed his journey before dawn. Norway's wilderness seemed endless, but Donald pressed on, his steps steady despite the ache in his leg. The path grew steeper as he approached the mountains, the air thinner and colder. Yet he felt a strange ease, as if this was where he was meant to be.

By the time he reached a small fishing village on the edge of a fjord, the pull was almost unbearable. He found a fisherman willing to take him across the icy waters, paying with the last of his strength as he helped load the boat. As they set out, Donald stared at the horizon, where the faint outline of a distant shore awaited him.

This was it. The answers he had chased for so long were within reach. But with each passing wave, a new question took shape: Was he truly ready to face them?

The boat cut through the freezing waters, its hull creaking against the weight of the sea. Donald stood at the bow, his coat pulled tight against the biting wind. The jagged cliffs of the distant shore loomed closer, the faint pull he'd been following stronger now, like an invisible chain drawing him toward the land ahead.

The fisherman manning the boat gave him a wary glance. "Not much out here but ice and rock. You sure this is where you want to be?"

Donald nodded once, his grip tightening on the cane at his side. "I'm sure."

The mountains loomed ahead, their peaks dusted with snow, while the sparse forest at their base seemed eerily still. As he moved, his boots crunching over frost-covered rocks, he caught a strange sound—low, guttural voices carried on the wind. Donald's steps faltered, and he angled toward the noise, keeping low and silent.

Peering past a cluster of boulders, he froze.

A group of hulking figures stood in a loose circle, their massive bodies made of rough, gray stone. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and their movements were unnaturally slow yet deliberate. Donald crouched lower, his cane pressing against the cold ground as he strained to hear their words.

"The settlement is two hours away, it will cost us some energy," one rumbled, its voice like grinding gravel. "But after we consume them all, we will have gathered enough strength to hibernate."

Another figure grunted in agreement. "These creatures are weak. Their flesh will sustain us. Let them cower in their homes—they cannot fight what they do not understand."

Donald's grip on his cane tightened, his stomach twisting. These were no ordinary beings. He didn't know what they were, but instinct told him they were predators, and their prey would be the unsuspecting villagers further inland.

Donald's blood ran cold as the stone figures continued their low, guttural discussion. He clenched his fist tightly, weighing his options. Logic told him to wait—let them feed, hibernate, and then strike while they were vulnerable. But the thought of the villagers being slaughtered, their lives snuffed out while he stood idly by, gnawed at him.

He muttered under his breath, his voice low. "Damn it."

Standing, he tightened his grip on the cane and shifted his weight forward. He wasn't foolish enough to think he could defeat all of them, but he wasn't going to let them reach those people unchallenged. He had no backup and no plan. He didn't need one. He'd stop them, or he'd die trying.

Donald stepped out from behind the boulders, his cane tapping against the rocky ground as he approached. The sound drew their attention immediately. All six of the stone figures turned, their glowing eyes fixing on him.

The largest of the stone creatures chuckled, the sound grinding like boulders scraping together. "A lost lamb," it rumbled, its glowing eyes narrowing as it stepped forward. "Let's start with the appetizer."

Donald didn't flinch. He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight off his bad leg, and rested one hand lightly on the head of his cane. "Funny," he replied, his tone even. "I was thinking the same thing."

The creature tilted its head, confused by the calm in Donald's voice. "You face your end, human. Why do you stand?"

Donald shrugged. "I've had worse days."

Another creature, smaller but no less menacing, rumbled in irritation. "Enough talk. Break him. We feast after."

The largest one chuckled, raising an arm that ended in a jagged, heavy fist. It brought it down with terrifying force, aiming to crush Donald where he stood. But Donald moved. Fast.

He shifted to the side with a sharp pivot, the head of his cane slamming against the creature's wrist mid-swing. A crack of energy surged through the impact, green Lightning Flames sparking along the surface of the cane. The blow didn't break the creature's arm, but it recoiled in surprise, its fist slamming into the ground with a deafening thud.

The other figures froze, their glowing eyes narrowing. "What is this?" one growled.

Donald didn't answer. He stepped forward, spinning his cane in one hand as a faint hum of electricity built around him. He eyed the creatures, his stance loose but ready. "Next one steps closer, I'll make you regret it."

The smallest of the creatures snarled and charged. It lunged forward, its arms outstretched like boulders crashing down. Donald ducked low, using his cane to sweep the creature's legs. As it stumbled, he drove the cane upward, green flames sparking again as it collided with the underside of the creature's jaw. The impact sent it sprawling back into the snow, motionless.

The remaining four roared in unison, their massive forms surging forward with renewed aggression. Donald's fingers tightened around the cane as he adjusted his footing, his other hand raised slightly as Armament Haki coated his forearms in an inky, obsidian sheen.

One creature swung for his torso, but Donald ducked under the blow, pivoting and delivering a sharp jab to its ribs. The cane struck like a lightning rod, sending arcs of green energy crackling across its rocky surface. The creature staggered back, its growl turning into a howl of frustration.

Another came from the left, trying to flank him. Donald turned, raising his cane just in time to intercept a crushing strike aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through his arm, but the Lightning Flames surged, repelling the blow. Donald spun on his heel, using his cane as leverage to drive a Haki-infused punch into the creature's chest. The stone cracked under the force, and the creature collapsed in a heap.

The largest figure roared, its eyes burning with fury. "You dare challenge us? You are nothing!"

Donald straightened, breathing heavily but unshaken. He tapped his cane against the ground, sending another ripple of electricity through the frozen air. "If I'm nothing, what does that make the three of you who couldn't even land a hit?"

The taunt worked. The largest figure bellowed and charged, its footsteps shaking the ground as it barreled toward him. Donald waited, watching its movements with sharp precision. As it closed the distance, he sidestepped at the last moment, driving the tip of his cane into its knee. Lightning Flames erupted on contact, forcing the massive figure to its knees with a pained roar.

Donald didn't give it a chance to recover. He stepped forward, swinging the cane in a wide arc that crackled with energy. The strike connected with the side of the creature's head, sending a spiderweb of cracks across its stony surface.

The cracked head of the largest stone creature began to knit back together, jagged fragments pulling from the ground beneath its feet. Donald stepped back, his grip tightening on his cane as realization hit. They weren't just strong—they could regenerate, drawing energy directly from the earth itself. The advantage he'd carved out in the fight was slipping away with every second.

The fallen smaller creature stirred, its battered body reassembling as its glowing eyes reignited. Donald's jaw tightened. He wouldn't win this fight—not here, not like this.

"You can't kill what is eternal," the leader rumbled, its voice vibrating like a quake. "Your strikes are meaningless, human."

As the stone creatures lumbered closer, Donald pivoted sharply, bolting toward the cliffs. His limp slowed him, but he pushed forward. The ground shook as the creatures gave chase, their heavy forms tearing through the snow and ice.

Donald reached the base of the cliff, his breathing ragged. He glanced back to see the leader close the distance with terrifying speed, its massive form surging ahead of the others. Without stopping, Donald swung his cane upward, cracking it against the creature's arm as it swiped for him. The Lightning Flames sparked, forcing it to recoil just enough for him to duck under its other arm and scramble toward the narrow cave.

Donald stumbled into the cave, his shoulder grazing the rough stone entrance as he dragged his leg inside. The air shifted immediately. The icy wind outside fell silent, replaced by a stillness that seemed almost alive. The walls glowed faintly, their surfaces etched with lines that shimmered like veins of gold. He didn't stop to marvel—his breath came in sharp bursts as he pressed deeper, his cane tapping rhythmically on the stone floor.

Behind him, the thundering steps of the stone creatures echoed closer. Their guttural growls reverberated through the entrance, growing louder with each passing moment.

"Nowhere to run, human!" the leader bellowed, its voice amplified by the cave's acoustics. "You've only cornered yourself!"

Donald ignored the taunts. The pull that had brought him this far burned stronger now, not just in his chest but in his limbs, in his blood. Each step felt both heavy and inevitable. Ahead, a faint glint caught his eye—a wooden hammer resting against the base of the wall. It wasn't ornate or imposing, just a simple thing with a short handle and a smooth head.

Donald approached the hammer at the far end. The air was different here—it was warm, familiar, like stepping into a place that had always been waiting for him. He crouched, his fingers brushing against the smooth handle.

Outside, the heavy footfalls of the stone creatures echoed closer. Their leader's growl boomed into the cavern. "You can't hide forever, human! The earth itself answers to us. This place will be your tomb."

Donald rose, gripping the hammer tightly in one hand while leaning on his cane with the other. He turned to face the entrance, where the creatures' glowing eyes pierced the darkness. The lead figure entered first, its massive form scraping the edges of the narrow opening. The others followed.

"You should've run farther," the leader rumbled, its gaze fixed on Donald. "Now, you will crumble like the rest."

Donald ran the faint green Lightning Flames from his ring into the hammer's wooden shaft. The moment the energy touched it, something unexpected happened—blue sparks burst to life, intertwining with the green. The hammer's surface vibrated faintly, almost resonating, as if responding to the energy. Donald's grip tightened as he felt the power ripple up his arm, foreign but somehow familiar.

"What is this?" His voice was low, more to himself than anyone else.

The lead stone creature, watching him from the entrance, tilted its head. "A human's tricks," it growled. "They will not save you."

Donald didn't respond, running the Lightning Flames through the hammer again. The green and blue sparks pulsed brighter this time, forming arcs between the head and handle. The energy surged with a rhythm that wasn't his, almost like a second heartbeat. He shifted his stance, holding the hammer in both hands, his cane forgotten on the ground behind him.

The leader charged, its massive form barreling forward, the walls trembling under its weight. Donald waited, his grip firm on the hammer. When the creature was close enough, he swung, green and blue energy flaring in a sharp crack as the hammer connected with its chest.

The impact sent the creature staggering backward, fragments of stone chipping off its body as the energy from the strike coursed through it. The others froze, their glowing eyes narrowing in confusion as their leader roared in pain.

"What magic is this?" the creature snarled, clutching its chest.

Donald stepped forward, the hammer buzzing faintly in his hand. "No magic," he said. "Just someone who's tired of your bullshit."

The smallest of the remaining creatures lunged, its jagged fists swinging wildly. Donald ducked under the first strike and brought the hammer upward in a tight arc, connecting with its jaw. The blue and green energy exploded outward, sending the creature flying into the cavern wall. It hit the ground and didn't move.

The others hesitated, their glowing eyes flicking between Donald and the two fallen creatures. "He is not normal," one rumbled, its voice uncertain for the first time.

"No human wields such power," the leader snarled, straightening. Cracks ran across its chest where the hammer had struck, glowing faintly with residual energy. "It doesn't matter. He will fall like the rest."

Donald adjusted his grip on the hammer, his movements sharp and deliberate. He didn't wait for them to attack this time. He surged forward, his limp barely slowing him, and swung at the nearest creature. The hammer's head struck its arm with a resounding crack, the energy surging along its limb and shattering the stone into jagged shards.

The creature roared, stumbling back, but Donald didn't let up. He swung again, this time at its knee, forcing it to collapse with a heavy thud. Before it could recover, he drove the hammer down onto its head, the green-blue energy surging in a final burst. The creature's glowing eyes dimmed as it crumbled into rubble.

The remaining two creatures exchanged a look, their confidence visibly shaken. "He wields the storm," one muttered. "We cannot fight that."

"We cannot retreat," the leader snapped, though its tone was less certain than before. "The earth sustains us. He will tire."

Donald exhaled, steadying himself. He could feel the strain building—channeling the Lightning Flames through the hammer was draining, and the energy surging from it wasn't entirely his own. But he couldn't afford to stop now.

The leader charged again, its massive arms swinging down like battering rams. Donald sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow, and countered with a strike to its ribs. The hammer's energy flared, carving deep fractures into the stone, but the creature didn't stop. It turned sharply, its jagged fist slamming into Donald's side and sending him skidding across the cavern floor.

Donald groaned, pushing himself up with the hammer as the creature advanced. His ribs ached, but he forced himself to his feet, raising the hammer again. 

The creature snarled, lunging again. Donald pivoted, swinging the hammer in a wide arc. The energy burst on impact, driving the creature back, but not before its claws raked across his arm, leaving a shallow gash.

The second creature took advantage of the opening, rushing in from the side. Donald barely had time to react, bringing the hammer up in a defensive strike. The blow connected, sending the creature staggering, but its jagged arm clipped his leg, dropping him to one knee.

Donald grit his teeth, pushing off the ground as the creatures regrouped. His breaths came heavy now, the strain of the fight taking its toll. He tightened his grip on the hammer, feeling the green-blue energy pulse faintly, almost as if it were alive.

The leader advanced, its glowing eyes fixed on him. "You cannot last, human. The earth's power is infinite."

Donald smirked, his voice low. "Maybe. But you're not the earth."

He raised the hammer high, channeling everything he had into it. The green and blue sparks erupted into a crackling aura, the air around him humming with electricity.

The creatures advanced, their hulking forms unyielding as they closed in, the faint glow of their eyes pulsing in unison. Donald tightened his grip on the hammer, its weight growing heavier with each passing moment. The green-blue energy flickering around it was dimmer now, and the ache in his arm sharpened each time he raised it. He exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance, his body screaming in protest from the hits he'd already taken.

The leader stepped forward, its cracked chest knitting back together with a low grinding sound. The air around it seemed to thrum with power as it loomed closer. "You're delaying the inevitable," it growled, its voice like rock scraping metal. "Your strength wanes, and the earth will heal us endlessly."

Donald swung the hammer toward the nearest figure, the arc of energy striking its shoulder and shattering part of its arm. But the creature barely flinched, its jagged limb already beginning to reform. The relentless regeneration was taking its toll on him—every strike felt like battling a tide that wouldn't stay down.

A smaller creature lunged, its fists pounding toward Donald's side. He twisted just enough to deflect the blow with the hammer's shaft, the impact vibrating through his arms and nearly forcing him to his knees. He pivoted, slamming the hammer into the creature's ribs, but the strike lacked the force it carried earlier. The energy sputtered weakly as the creature stumbled back, unfazed.

The leader's booming laughter filled the cavern, reverberating off the walls. "This is your limit, human. Surrender, and perhaps we will grant you a swift end."

Donald ignored the taunt, but his limbs felt leaden, his breath ragged. His mind flashed to Nero's words before he left—the ones spoken in passing that now felt more like prophecy.

"Find what you choose to stand for."

He staggered back a step, the hammer dipping in his grip. The creatures pressed their advantage, their movements coordinated now as they boxed him in. The leader's voice cut through the air again, cruel and mocking. "What will you stand for when you crumble into dust?"

Donald's jaw tightened as a memory surged—one of his dreams. The tree, its branches reaching skyward, its roots buried deep in realms he couldn't name. And a voice—not his, but tied to him somehow. "Stand. Always stand. Stand for those I want to protect!"

The leader swung its massive arm, aiming to crush him entirely. Donald raised the hammer instinctively, the green-blue energy flaring brighter than before. The collision sent a shockwave through the cavern, forcing the leader to stagger. But the force also knocked Donald back, his shoulder slamming into the cavern wall. The hammer fell from his grip, landing with a dull clang at his feet.

The leader straightened, its glowing eyes narrowing. "Even your weapon abandons you. Accept your fate."

Donald laughed, low and rough, as his eyes settled on the wooden hammer lying just out of reach. The sound echoed faintly in the cavern, catching even the creatures off guard. He grunted, pressing his weight on his uninjured arm to push himself upright. Blood trickled from the gash on his leg, pooling on the ground beside him, but his gaze remained locked on the hammer.

"You're awfully chatty," he muttered, his voice strained but steady, "for a bunch of oversized paperweights."

The leader snarled, stepping forward, its massive foot deliberately crushing Donald's injured arm against the stone floor. Pain shot up his side, his grip on consciousness flickering. His free hand clawed weakly toward the hammer, fingers brushing the smooth handle but unable to grip it.

The creature chuckled, its voice a grinding rumble. "You fight in vain. No tool can save you now."

Donald clenched his teeth, the world blurring at the edges. He froze as something flickered at the edge of his vision—not the glow of the hammer's faint sparks, but something larger, deeper. Shadows swirled at the edge of his mind, shapes coalescing into a great hall illuminated by flickering torchlight.

Golden tables stretched endlessly, laden with food and drink, their surfaces reflecting the light of an unseen sun. Voices filled the space—boisterous, joyful, and strong. Laughter rang out, deep and familiar, as figures, hazy and indistinct, raised tankards and shared stories. His chest tightened as he recognized the faint echoes of his own voice among them.

His vision shifted again, pulling him deeper into memory. The hall melted away, replaced by a towering tree that seemed to pierce the heavens. Its roots sprawled beneath the earth, wrapping through realms both bright and dark. The whispers of those realms surged, a mixture of words and sensations he couldn't fully understand. A shadowed figure appeared beneath the tree, cloaked and imposing. The figure raised a hand, gesturing for him to step forward.

"Stand," the figure commanded, the single word reverberating through his soul.

Donald's fingers dug into the dirt, the pain in his arm a distant hum compared to the thrum of memory. He growled as the creature above him pressed harder, the grinding force snapping bone with a sickening crack. He spat blood, his gaze flickering between the creature and the hammer.

"I'm not done," he hissed through clenched teeth, his other hand straining toward the handle.

The hammer trembled faintly, as if responding to his desperation. Green Lightning Flames flickered along its surface, but they dimmed quickly, the energy struggling to sustain itself. The stone creature sneered, raising its jagged fist for a final blow. "Die," it rumbled.

Time seemed to stretch. The faint hum of the hammer intensified, joined by another sound—a deep, resonant roar like distant thunder. Donald's mind raced back to the hall, the laughter now replaced by a low, solemn chant. The shadowed figure reappeared, clearer now. A bearded man with a single eye stood tall, his silhouette outlined by the flickering golden light.

"You are my son," the figure said, his voice calm but commanding. "You do not kneel to stone. You are the storm."

Donald's eyes snapped open, his hand clenching into a fist. The hammer responded immediately, green and blue Lightning Flames erupting from its surface as it flew from the ground to his outstretched hand. The wood warped, crackling as it reshaped itself into polished uru, runes etching across its surface in intricate patterns. The blunt head expanded, gaining weight and precision, while the handle extended, wrapped in leather grips that pulsed with energy.

The creature froze mid-swing, its jagged fist hovering above Donald as Mjolnir crackled with power in his grasp. Donald pushed upward with a roar, the hammer smashing into the creature's leg and sending it toppling backward with an ear-splitting crash.

The other two creatures stepped back, their glowing eyes narrowing as they stared at the transformed hammer. The leader growled, its fractured chest heaving as it rose to its feet. "Impossible. That... is not of this world."

Donald stood slowly, the hammer's weight familiar in his hand despite its transformation. He adjusted his grip, the energy coursing through it sparking against his skin. He rolled his shoulder, wincing as the motion pulled at his injuries, and leveled his gaze at the leader.

"You're right," he said, his voice cold. "It's not."

The leader's glowing eyes locked onto Donald, its jagged form grinding as it shifted forward. "Who are you?" it rumbled, its voice low and sharp.

Donald exhaled, Mjolnir humming faintly in his grip. He glanced down at the hammer, catching his reflection in the polished uru. His hair, once dull and thinning, now shone with a golden vibrancy, his face sharper and unlined, his features carrying an almost otherworldly confidence. His thin frame began to shift, broadening as muscle filled out beneath his skin. His hunched posture straightened, the weight of his cane forgotten. Lightning crackled faintly around him, arcs of green mingling with streaks of blue.

The hammer grew lighter in his hand as if it had been made for him alone. Donald let out a quiet laugh as memories of a lifelong filled his mind.

"I'm Donald," he said, raising the hammer. "The Lightning Guardian of the Principe Family."

--

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