The Moby Dick floated peacefully under a clear sky, while the sound of the sea accompanied the applause of several crew members. At the center of the deck, Zed held the fruit that would change his destiny: the Robo-Robo no Mi. In front of him, his brothers watched with anticipation, and from his improvised throne, the great Whitebeard looked on with pride.
Zed closed his eyes, held his breath, and, with determination, took a big bite of the fruit. The taste was indescribably disgusting, like swallowing rusty metal and ashes, but he didn't stop. With a couple more bites, the fruit was completely devoured.
A shiver ran through his body. He felt a strange energy flow through his veins, as if every fiber of his being were being reconfigured.
Whitebeard let out a deep laugh, his voice rumbling like thunder.
—Gurararara! Well done, Zed! Now you carry a great power within you. I have no doubt you'll use it wisely. Let's toast to my son's new step forward!
Cheers erupted. Thatch patted him on the shoulder with a wide grin, and Vista raised his sword in recognition. However, Zed had something else in mind. He respectfully approached the commander of the first division—the Phoenix of the Seas.
Marco, as always, was calm. He held the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other.
—Marco, Zed said seriously, I know this power I've received can bring problems… but I also know that if I want to protect this crew, I must reach the top. That's why…
The young man bowed slightly, respectfully.
—I ask for your permission to temporarily copy your Devil Fruit. I know it's a privilege, and I won't do it without your consent.
Silence fell for a moment. Some crew members widened their eyes in surprise: the Tori Tori no Mi, Model Phoenix, was no ordinary fruit. It was a Mythical Zoan, unique, with unparalleled regenerative powers. For someone to copy it, even partially, was no small matter.
Marco lowered the bottle, observed him for a second, and then smiled, relaxed.
—You've got guts, Zed. I like that.
He flicked him lightly on the forehead with two fingers.
—If you're going to copy it, you better not crash on your first flight, yeah? he joked. Just remember, you won't be able to use it at full power… nor my maximum regeneration. Even so… if this helps you grow, go ahead. You have my permission.
Zed raised his gaze, a spark of determination shining in his eyes.
—I won't let you down.
From a distance, Whitebeard watched in silence, with a serene and proud expression. Deep down, he knew that his adopted son was walking a difficult path… but with every step, Zed was drawing closer to forging a legendary destiny.
Three Years Later…
Three years passed since Zed ate the Robo-Robo no Mi and received Marco's permission to temporarily imitate the power of the mythical Phoenix fruit.
During that time, the world kept spinning in chaos—Marines and pirates clashed in hundreds of battles, and the seas of the New World continued to be a hell for anyone without the strength to survive.
But within Whitebeard's territory, a black-haired boy with a fierce gaze was rising, forging his fate with blood, sweat, and crimson flames.
Training and Blood
At 13, Zed wasn't an ordinary child. His body, tempered by daily battles alongside Vista and Thatch, was already comparable to that of a Marine rear admiral. His sword technique had reached the level of a low-tier master, capable of unleashing energy slashes at short and mid-range, shattering rocks and fracturing armor, though still far from slicing warships like the sea's greatest swordsmen.
The Robo-Robo no Mi had been, as Marco warned, both a blessing and a curse. Although he couldn't access 100% of the Phoenix's power, Zed managed to stabilize control at 50%, allowing him to transform his arms and back into wings of healing fire. However, the color of his flames was different—not blue like Marco's, but a blood-red blaze edged with glowing orange, as if the sun itself had been embedded in his veins.
That color reflected his character: fiery, fierce, untamable.
And with those flames, he flew.
Not by divine grace, but by sheer will.
Haki and Evolution
During those years, Zed perfected his Observation Haki, reaching an intermediate level, capable of sensing presences within several hundred meters, predicting simple movements, and dodging attacks from enemies at the level of an average vice admiral.
His Armament Haki was still immature. He could only coat his fists, legs, and sometimes parts of his sword. But in the right hands, even a partial coat was lethal. And day by day, he drew closer to mastery.
Every blow from Vista, every correction from Thatch, every conversation with Marco pushed him one step beyond the limit.
The Legend of the Crimson Phoenix
Zed didn't use the Phoenix's power as a mere resource. He made it part of himself.
The Crimson Phoenix, they called him—the crew members of the fourth and fifth divisions. Because when he rose above the battlefield, cloaked in reddish flames, he looked like a mythological bird made of fury and will, reborn again and again through wounds, through ruins, through screams.
His flight wasn't as fast as Marco's.
His regeneration wasn't complete.
But his fire didn't just heal.
It burned.
A strange power, born from Zed's soul. When his body regenerated, the wounds of his enemies burned with an unusual intensity, as if the fruit not only restored… but also punished.
A variant.
An evolution.