The air was thick with ash and the acrid smell of molten rock as I stood amidst the ruins of what was once a thriving archipelago. The entire region, once a bustling stretch of islands under Charlotte Linlin's reign, now lay beneath the sea, swallowed by the ferocity of our four-day battle.
All that remained was a jagged patch of land—a fragment of defiance jutting out against the endless ocean. It would serve as the grave of the Titan who once ruled the seas.
Before me, the once-mighty Big Mom, Charlotte Linlin, now reduced to a shredded, broken form, gasped for breath. Her legs, which had once carried her towering, monstrous frame with unshakable confidence, had finally buckled, crashing into the rubble with an impact that sent cracks through the remaining earth. She knelt, her blood staining the shattered stones, her fiery spirit flickering but not extinguished.
"Ma...ma...ma..." Linlin's once thunderous laughter was now a wheezing rasp, punctuated by a violent cough that sent blood splattering onto the scorched ground. Her voice, though weakened, still carried the same mocking edge.
"So this...is how it ends, is it? A lifetime of conquest, of ruling, brought to its knees by...you."
I stood before her, my chest heaving as blood dripped from countless wounds. My body screamed for rest, my bones felt like they might splinter with every movement, but my resolve held firm.
Shusui was already sheathed, but Akatsuki, my crimson blade, hummed softly in my hand, its hunger for battle not yet sated. Even now, its edge still shimmered with the remnants of haki that had carried me through this hellish ordeal.
"Charlotte Linlin," I said, my voice steady despite the weariness clawing at me. "Do you have any last words?"
Linlin tilted her head back, her eyes half-lidded but still gleaming with defiance. The cracks in her legendary physique, the burns, the gashes—none of it seemed to dim the pride that burned in her gaze. Her lips curled into a faint grin, a remnant of the unyielding force she had been.
"If you have anything to say, I suggest you do so now," I said, my gaze shifting to the crumbling landscape as the relentless sea devoured the island. "This last patch of land might hold out for a couple more minutes at best, but soon it will be buried beneath the waves—alongside you."
"Last words?" she croaked, the sound of her voice rumbling through the eerie silence. "Brat...do you think I'd beg? Hah...no. I am a pirate. Always have been. Always knew this day would come...that death would come for me someday. I just didn't think it would wear your face."
Her chuckle was weak but filled with a kind of dark amusement, like she was savoring the irony of her end. Around us, the sea churned violently, waves crashing against what remained of the land. The skies, scorched and torn asunder by the battle, bled orange and black as if the heavens themselves mourned the fall of a Titan.
I remained silent, my eyes fixed on hers. Even in the face of death, Big Mom refused to yield. There was a certain respect I held for her at this moment. Few could stand against the tide of fate without trembling.
"Finish it, brat!" Linlin suddenly roared, her voice momentarily regaining its might. The force of her cry sent a shiver through the air, a last echo of the terror she had commanded over the seas.
"Finish what you started! Don't think for a second I'd crawl or grovel for mercy. I die as I've lived—with pride! If nothing else, I'll die knowing it took someone like you to bring me down!"
I tightened my grip on Akatsuki, the blade's crimson glow intensifying. Her words carried no malice, no bitterness—only the truth of someone who had lived a life of absolute dominance.
"I'll give you this much, Rosinante..." Linlin wheezed, her defiance softening into something almost contemplative. "You're not just strong. You're something else entirely. Someday...someday, you'll surpass them all. Roger. Whitebeard. Even Xebec. You'll be the one...to shatter the sky itself."
Her lips curled into a final smirk, her pride unbroken even as her body failed her.
"See you...on the other side..." she whispered, her voice barely audible now.
Without hesitation, I plunged Akatsuki through her chest, the blade piercing her legendary physique as if it were nothing. The crimson steel skewered her heart, a final surge of her fiery soul spilling forth as the life drained from her eyes. The ground beneath us trembled violently, and for a moment, the entire sea seemed to recoil as if mourning the passing of a giant.
The light in Linlin's eyes flickered, and then faded. Her titanic form collapsed forward, shaking what little land remained, her smirk frozen in death—a silent declaration that she had met her end without shame.
Around us, the devastation was absolute. The heavens, scarred from the clash of conqueror's haki, finally began to calm. The ocean, once a chaotic maelstrom, now settled into an uneasy stillness, reflecting the ruin of a once-flourishing empire.
I stood there, bloodied and battered, staring down at the still form of Charlotte Linlin. My breath came in ragged gasps as the weight of the battle finally began to settle in. Around me, the remnants of her empire sank further into the abyss, leaving nothing but a graveyard for the fallen Titan.
Far in the distance, the faint cries of the wind carried the echoes of voices—Lucci and Dora, no doubt waiting for me. But here, in this desolate place, I was alone with the memory of a battle that would echo through history.
The world would soon learn of this day, of the fall of Big Mom, one of the Four Emperors. But for now, there was only silence, the sea swallowing the last remnants of her reign.
And as I sheathed Akatsuki, its crimson glow fading into stillness, I cast one final glance at the ruin left behind—a reminder of what it had cost to fell a Titan of the Sea.
****
A few hours after the cataclysmic clash, a cloaked figure stood on the last remnants of land—a jagged outcrop barely above the waterline. Under the dim moonlight, the sea stretched calm and endless, as if to conceal the devastation that had just occurred.
No one passing through would ever know that this was once a thriving kingdom. To the world, it would simply be remembered as the place where Charlotte Linlin fell. But for the countless souls buried beneath the waves, there would be no memorials, no prayers—only silence.
Scarlett stood motionless, her cloak billowing faintly in the cool breeze. She had gambled everything on the outcome of the battle, and she had won. The burden of a favor she had carried for far too long was now lifted, the debt finally paid. Yet, as the tension began to fade, an unease crept in—one that had little to do with the battlefield or the blood-soaked memories of the past few hours. She knew he would come.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the water breaking. A figure emerged from the tranquil surface, his strokes powerful and deliberate as he swam toward the tiny patch of land.
Scarlett tensed instinctively. There was something unsettling about the way he moved—not just with purpose, but with an unnatural ease. A Devil Fruit user swimming through the sea? Even she, with mastery over her awakened powers, could not mitigate the ocean's curse. Yet this man defied it entirely, his form cutting through the waves as if the sea itself bent to his will.
As he reached the shore, he dragged something with him—a corpse. Without ceremony, he tossed it onto the sand. Scarlett's breath hitched. Even in death, she recognized the once-mighty figure: Charlotte Linlin. Her immense form had shrunk, her monstrous vitality gone, leaving behind the lithe frame of a woman long past. The sight was haunting.
The man crouched beside Linlin's lifeless body, his chuckle low and sardonic. "Oh, Linlin," he murmured, running a hand over her pale, still face. "How unlike you… hunted and felled by a mere boy. Your life was mine to take. But no matter. Perhaps I should keep an eye on this Rosinante… a boy who slays titans might yet be an anomaly worth watching."
Scarlett's jaw tightened. His tone, more amused than sorrowful, grated against her nerves. There was no respect in his words, no acknowledgment of Linlin's legacy—only cold indifference.
"It seems," Scarlett interrupted, her voice sharp, "that this is where we part ways. I don't owe you anything anymore."
The man's focus shifted to her, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. For a moment, she felt as though he were stripping her bare, dissecting her thoughts and fears with an unnerving precision.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice almost playful. "Few have been offered what I'm offering you, Scarlett. Be my right hand, and I'll make you greater than you've ever dreamed."
She scoffed, though her posture remained guarded. "Sorry," she said, her voice laced with wry humor. "While I'm grateful for you restoring my youth and strength, we're pirates. We don't walk the same path. We made a bet, and just as I predicted, Garp's protégé won."
At the mention of Garp's name, the atmosphere shifted. The wind stilled, and the sea seemed to hold its breath, as if even the elements feared the weight of that name. Yet Scarlett stood firm. Perhaps the whole world feared this man, but she had no intention of letting him see her flinch.
The man's lips curled into a faint smile. "You know too much, Scarlett," he said, his tone a mixture of amusement and menace. "A wise man would do everything in his power to silence someone like you."
Scarlett's laugh was dry, edged with defiance. "Then why don't we settle it here? The sea's appetite is vast enough to devour another titan."
Her words hung in the air, daring him. Her body tensed, ready for the fight she knew she couldn't win. But instead of attacking, the man turned back to Linlin's body, his amusement fading into something colder.
"It was fun while it lasted," he said after a long pause. "But remember, Scarlett—keep your word. The world is not ready for my return. Make sure it stays that way."
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. She knew better than to press him further. For now, their paths were diverging, and that alone was enough.
"So," she ventured, her voice careful, "what do you plan to do with Linlin's corpse?"
He ignored her, his focus unwavering as he crouched over the body. It was a dismissal, one she didn't take lightly.
Scarlett exhaled, her patience wearing thin. "I hope we never cross paths again," she muttered, her voice low but deliberate. The past few years had been a trial, and she was done with him, with his games, with the abyss he dragged behind him.
She turned toward the broken figure lying nearby. Katakuri, barely clinging to life, was sprawled on the sand. She hoisted him onto her shoulders with ease, his weight insignificant to someone of her strength.
The man's voice cut through the silence. "Taking him?" he asked, faint amusement in his tone. "Pointless. He's lost an arm—his dominant arm at that. Even if he survives, he'll be nothing but a shadow. Better to end his misery now."
Scarlett smirked, glancing at her bionic arm. "I have a soft spot for cripples, failures, and broken things," she said. "Guess it takes one to know one."
As she prepared to leave, using her magnetic powers to lift herself and Katakuri into the air, the man's voice called out one final time.
"Don't expect mercy if we meet again, Scarlett. On the open seas, you'll find no friends here."
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. A small, humorless smile played on her lips.
"Likewise," she whispered, before disappearing into the night. Behind her, the sea reclaimed what little land remained, leaving only shadows and silence where a kingdom had once stood.
****
Aboard the colossal ship, the low murmur of the waves was interrupted only by the occasional creak of timber as we sailed deeper into the calm night. The deck was dimly lit by lanterns swaying with the motion of the sea, their flickering light casting long shadows over the doctor's table where I sat, shirtless and vulnerable.
The hastily tied bandages around my torso had already soaked through with blood, a grim reminder of the price I paid to bring down Charlotte Linlin.
Lucci stood over me, his sharp, calculating eyes assessing the wound with the precision of a predator. As he carefully undid the rough wrappings he'd applied back on the island, I gritted my teeth.
The gash ran jaggedly from my collarbone to my navel, deep enough to have exposed bone when it was fresh. Though the pain was no stranger, the sting of the salty breeze against the exposed flesh made me flinch.
"You've endured worse," I muttered to myself, my voice rough. Yet even my resilience was tested; this was a wound that should have left me on the brink of death.
As the bandages came away, Lucci's normally impassive face betrayed a flicker of something rare—confusion. His gaze lingered on the wound, which, while still brutal, no longer had the depth it did just hours ago. The flesh around it was knitting together at a pace that seemed… unnatural.
"Master," he began, his tone unusually hesitant. "Are you absolutely certain you haven't consumed a Mythical Zoan fruit?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Lucci's voice carried no jest, only the cold curiosity of someone trying to piece together a puzzle. His gold-flecked eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to inspect my wound, his expression betraying a subtle frustration.
"This kind of healing… even for someone with your willpower and Haki, it rivals the regenerative abilities of mythical Zoan users."
I exhaled sharply, half from the pain of the doctor's probing hands and half from the weight of Lucci's words. My thoughts flickered back to the countless battles I'd fought and the inexplicable resilience I'd shown.
"Honestly, Lucci," I said, my tone measured, "I'm not sure anymore." I winced as the ship's doctor finished the stitch and applied a salve, the cool sensation doing little to mask the burn of the open wound.
"All these years, I believed the fruit I ate was a lightning-based Logia. The black lightning? I thought it was just… me. Something unique to my body, separate from the fruit itself. But now? After this… after everything, I'm starting to think the fruit I ate might not have been a Logia at all."
A strained laugh escaped me, though it sent a pang of pain through my chest, earning me a sharp glare from the doctor. Lucci's expression didn't change, but the way his fingers tapped the head of his pet pigeon betrayed his restless mind.
"Then what do you think it is, Ross?" Dora's voice broke through the tension, softer than usual but tinged with curiosity. She sat cross-legged on a huge barrel nearby, her chin resting in her hands.
Her normally fiery energy was subdued; the disappointment from her recent clash with her brother Loki still lingered in her aura. Yet, her interest was piqued, as if the mystery surrounding my fruit offered her a brief distraction from her own turmoil.
I looked at her, then at Lucci, then back to the wound that was healing far too quickly for comfort.
"I've been thinking," I began, my voice steady despite the undercurrent of unease. "What if the fruit wasn't what I thought it was? What if it's something… different? Something ancient? The black lightning, the durability, the way my body endures damage that should've killed me at least a dozen times over—it doesn't add up. Not for a Logia. Not even for an awakened one."
Dora leaned forward, her eyes wide. "Something ancient? Like what? Some kind of forgotten Devil Fruit?"
Lucci's lips pressed into a thin line. "There are rumors," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "of fruits that predate even the Devil Fruit classifications we know. Fruits tied to legends, to gods… to myths. If what you're saying is true, Ross, you may be wielding a power not seen for centuries.
Perhaps even something that's…" He hesitated, searching for the right word. "An anomaly."
The ship doctor grunted in frustration, interrupting our musings. "If you all could keep still and quiet, it'd make my job a hell of a lot easier," he muttered, pressing gauze against the wound with practiced efficiency.
The pain flared again, but I welcomed it—it anchored me. "An anomaly," I repeated, letting the word linger in the air. It felt fitting. My life, my abilities, my very existence seemed to veer away from any normal path.
Dora cocked her head, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "So, what are you saying? You're some kind of storm god now? A walking lightning bolt wrapped in flesh?"
I smirked, though it was weak. "If that's the case, I'd like to think I'm more than just lightning, Dora."
Lucci crossed his arms, his gaze like a hawk's. "If this power of yours is truly what it seems, you need to understand it before the world does, Master. There's a reason legends remain in shadows. They attract the kind of attention that no amount of strength can fend off, say, for example, the other devil fruit you have told me about."
The room fell silent as his words settled over us like a heavy fog. Outside, the waves continued their rhythmic dance, indifferent to the secrets we were unraveling.
"I guess there's only one way to find out," I said finally, leaning back as the doctor finished wrapping fresh bandages over my torso. My voice was steady, but inside, a storm brewed. Whatever this power was, it wasn't just a tool—it was a burden. And it had just begun to reveal itself.
"Wait... what are you guys even talking about? Lucci, are you seriously telling me there are Devil Fruits out there that represent gods?" Dora's wide eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, her amazement making her almost childlike despite her towering frame.
I couldn't suppress a chuckle at her enthusiasm. For a princess of Elbaf, a kingdom steeped in myths and legends, she seemed surprisingly unaware of some of her own culture's lore. I made a mental note to have Robin teach her—and the others—when we returned to Dressrosa. Our ambition would one day make the whole world our enemy, and ignorance would only make us vulnerable.
The ship's doctor, having just finished dressing the wound across my torso, nodded once in acknowledgment as I thanked him. Without saying much, he gathered his supplies and left the room. He was a man of few words—precisely why I had chosen him to fill Mansherry's absence. Efficient, professional, and, most importantly, discreet.
As soon as the door closed, Lucci began to speak, his tone calm but with an undercurrent of intrigue. "Dora, you're a giantess. A princess of Elbaf, no less. Are you truly unaware of the legend of the Sun God?"
Dora shifted from the barrel she had been perched on, her massive frame making the ship groan under the weight of her movements. She settled closer to us with a resounding thump, the wooden floor creaking in protest beneath her. Her brow furrowed as she scratched her head, her excitement barely contained.
"Well," she began hesitantly, "we do have some old fairytales back home. Stories about a savior of the world—a being called Nika. But they're just legends and rumors. No one takes them seriously."
As she spoke, her gaze slowly shifted toward me, her expression transforming from curiosity to something more intense. Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, she lunged forward, her enormous hands reaching out toward me with surprising speed. Her excitement had gotten the better of her.
"Dora, stop!" Lucci barked, partially transforming. His tail lashed out, its scaled length restraining her before she could get too close. The floor beneath us creaked ominously as he held her back.
Undeterred, she craned her neck forward as far as she could, her eyes locked onto mine, shining with a kind of desperate curiosity. "Ross," she said breathlessly, "are you trying to tell me there might be a Devil Fruit out there… one that gives the power of the Sun God Nika?"
I sighed, shaking my head slightly, though I couldn't help but smile at her unrelenting enthusiasm. Dora's boundless energy was one of her defining traits, and it was hard not to be infected by it.
"Dora," I said, my voice calm but firm, "what I'm saying is that there are Devil Fruits tied to myths, legends, and even gods. The Sun God Nika might be one of them. But the power of such fruits… it's not something to take lightly."
Her eyes widened even further, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head. Knowing Dora, I had little doubt that if she ever got her hands on a fruit like the Gomu Gomu no Mi, she'd devour it in an instant—without hesitation or thought for the consequences.
Lucci released her with a low growl, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "Calm yourself, Dora. The idea of such a fruit existing is still speculative. But," he added, his golden eyes narrowing as they shifted to me, "there's no denying that some fruits have a legacy far greater than others. If the fruit Master consumed is connected to a god, it changes everything."
Dora slumped back slightly, though her excitement remained evident. "But Ross," she said, her tone softer now, "if your fruit really is tied to something as ancient as a god… what does that mean for you? And in the future can you get one for me? Pretty please…"
I glanced at her, then at Lucci, my mind swirling with thoughts I wasn't ready to share—not yet. "It means," I said finally, my voice low and deliberate, "that I need to understand it. Completely. Because if this power is tied to something bigger, something ancient… the world itself will come for it. And for me."
The room fell silent as my words settled. Outside, the waves continued their endless rhythm, indifferent to the weight of the conversation. For a moment, none of us spoke, each lost in our own thoughts.
Finally, Dora broke the silence with a wide grin, her usual mischievous energy returning. "Well, if it turns out you're some kind of god or something, Ross, just make sure to remember us little people when you're ruling the world." She winked, though her laughter was genuine.
I chuckled despite myself, the tension in the room easing slightly. "Dora," I said, smirking, "there's nothing 'little' about you."
Lucci exhaled sharply, his tail returning to its human form. "Just don't let your excitement sink the ship, princess," he muttered dryly. But even he couldn't hide the faintest hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
The night stretched on, the mysteries surrounding my fruit lingering like shadows beneath the moonlit waves. Whatever it was—god, myth, or anomaly—it was mine to uncover. And I would be ready for whatever secrets it held.