Luka

An optimistic and carefree fighter with a mechanical arm. Skilled in mixed martial arts and is a Wildfire member.

From the fight cage to the battlefield, and from a fighter to a warrior, Luka uses his strength to protect the people of the Underworld.

He wishes to bring hope to others precisely because he had experienced despair himself.

He lifts the steel hammer over and over.

Sparks erupt before his eyes, and the clang of metal against metal mutes the thuds of moving muscles and joints. The boy is not yet tall enough to reach the tools at the top of the steel cabinet, but the power with which he swings the steel hammer can already rival that of the most skilled craftsmen.

This shop is his entire life, with his father squatting next to the door and repeatedly cleaning the rusted old shop sign. Sometimes he would lie on his hard bed and imagine his future — but no matter where his mind wandered, his father's figure would always appear in his thoughts at the end.

He temporarily puts down his work as footsteps approach. His father stands up, and the older man's stout but bowed figure moves with a hint of groveling flattery. It's those people from Wildfire again. Ever since Moltammerville went under a curfew, they have been frequenting this shop and have increased the number of orders for various weapons.

As the boy thinks about this, he happens to stare into the eyes of that regular old customer who acts as the leader of the group. That man's skin is tanned and he stands tall, his sharp gaze immediately softens when he locks eyes with the boy. Then, he nods imperceptibly at the boy.

"Welcome, Chief Oleg! How can I help you today?"

"Patience, my good sir. I'm just here for a chat today." The man points at Luka. "A chat about your son."

There is fire all around him, and the thick black smoke makes it hard to see. He keeps hearing screams and screeches as the fused scent of machine oil and blood sweeps over his nostrils. Luka tries hard to push down the urge to vomit.

The smile that Oleg wore on his face when Luka swung a perfect straight punch for the first time inspired Luka. However, once the boy had experienced the cruelty of the front lines first-hand, he never regained that warm feeling in his heart. Luka would secretly observe his comrades' expressions every time they lined up for action — and the apprehension he saw on those faces would actually soothe his own anxiety.

A scream pulls Luka back to reality. He rushes toward where the sound came from and sees a helpless child being backed into a corner by a monster. Instinctively, he leaps out and puts himself between the sharp ax and the child's fragile form.

A loud blast sounds from behind him. Luka hugs the panicked boy with one arm and slowly turns his head. The mutated monster had fallen to the ground, seemingly hit in the vitals by a stray bullet.

"Th—Thank you... mister..."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Mister... your... your arm..."

His eyes follow the direction the child is pointing at. The sleeve that should have covered his upper right arm has been reduced to a shred of broken fabric, and blood is pouring out of his severed limb.

However, before he faints from the pain, he could once again feel that warmth swelling up in his heart.

Luka is defeated at the final stage during the first championship he takes part in.

"Hahaha, how useless! This is the world of survival of the fittest — someone as weak as you shouldn't even show yourself before me!"

Luka does not mind the humiliation. His opponent for the final is an infamous thug in town known for his underhanded and cruel tactics. If I have to resort to this kind of tricks and deceit to become the champion — Luka thinks — then I'd rather never get my hands on the golden belt.

Luka runs into a few children around the corner from the Fight Club the night after. A short and skinny boy is curled up on the ground, his body covered in wounds while the older children surrounding him laugh in arrogance.

"Hahaha, how useless!" The leader of the bullies points at the wounded boy. "This is the world of survival of the fittest — someone as weak as you shouldn't even show yourself before me!"

That is when Luka swears he will become the Underworld champion — and he will do it his own way: Fair and square.

"We'll call it a day here. Come, boy. Take a seat."

"...This is all? I was planning to practice a few more sets today!"

"Oh, c'mon, stop pushing yourself. Get over here!"

"Hahaha. I'm coming. I'm coming!"

"Boy, I'm gonna ask you a question, and you need to give me an honest answer."

"Oh? What is this heart-to-heart we're having? Go on. Ask away."

"Look, when it comes to fighting... Do you actually like fighting?"

"Hahaha! Why are you asking this all of a sudden? Of course I do! Why else would I stick with you for so long?"

"Don't be smart with me, boy! Answer the question!"

"You're really serious about this... Okay. To be completely honest? I don't like it that much."

"Mmm... finally got an honest answer out of you. So, if the Underworld no longer needs Wildfire's protection... would you still train yourself as a fighter?"

"Mmm, lemme think... I probably will."

"Why? You didn't get into fighting because you want the golden belt. Don't think you can hide that from me. If the Underworld really became peaceful one day... would you still have a reason to fight?"

"Sir, I remember you saying that there are bad people in every era. Even if all the Fragmentum monsters die off, people would still fight to the death for every little thing."

"Hmm... I did say that."

"As long as there are still bad people in this world, and as long as there are still good people I need to protect—" Luka stands up, "then I will keep on fighting!"