The boxing champion in Belobog's Underworld, and one of Wildfire's most capable fighters.
The consecutive reigning champion of the Fight Club, whose enthusiasm inspires children of the Underworld to dream big.

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 turn 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 pain, he could once again feel that warmth swelling up in his heart.