Varin had forgotten how loud giant duels were, or maybe he'd just tried to. The air itself shook with every clash, steel on steel ringing lover the jungle. It was bad enough that, for a fleeting moment, he almost wished for the whale's song again. Almost. But at least this time, he could stand beneath it all, feet planted, body steady against the onslaught of sound that rolled through the island like a storm made of purely thunder.
From Brogy's camp, they could see it all. The two giants were miles away, yet their movements were impossible to miss. Brogy, his laughter booming like cannon fire, met his match in Dorry, the name Brogy had shouted when the first clash happened, whose every swing sent shockwaves through the earth.
Varin stood with arms folded, eyes tracking every motion like he was studying a storm. Nami and Usopp had frozen beside him, both too spellbound to speak.
Usopp was trembling not from fear this time, but awe. His eyes were wide, reflecting the dance of giants. Nami's mouth hung slightly open, her usual sharpness lost in the sheer scale of it all.
Every strike seemed to split the air itself. Brogy's axe came down in an arc that could cleave a ship in two, only for Dorry's massive shield to catch it with a blast of sparks. Dorry swung in turn, blade cutting the wind like a cannon shot, and Brogy's shield rose to meet it with a sound like a thunderclap.
They fought like old friends who'd long forgotten how to hatelaughing through every swing, roaring jokes and challenges even as they traded blows that could flatten forests. Their words were swallowed by the clash of weapons, but the tone carried through: respect, pride, and the kind of joy only warriors seemed to understand.
Varin squinted toward them, the edges of a grin tugging at his face. "They're not even trying to kill each other," he muttered.
Nami tore her eyes from the fight just long enough to glance at him. "They're insane. Both of them."
"Maybe," he said, watching another blow shake the valley. "But you can't fake a fight like that. They mean every hit."
A gust of wind rolled past, carrying with it the sound of Brogy's laughterhuge, echoing, filled with something ancient and proud.
Usopp swallowed hard, unable to look away. "They've been fighting like that... for a hundred years?"
Nami nodded slowly. "Yeah. Over something they don't even remember."
Varin said nothing, just watched the titans move with impossible grace and force. The jungle shook around them, and for a moment, all of Little Garden felt alive with the rhythm of their duel.
Two giants locked in a battle that time itself had stopped trying to end.
It didn't take long for the duel to end, a tie same as it had been for a hundred years. The final clash echoed through the valley like a storm breaking, both giants staggering back before straightening, breath heavy but laughter louder. Steel lowered, not in defeat, but in respect.
Brogy's voice carried first, booming across the clearing. "A fine match, Dorry! As always!"
Dorry answered with a grin, his deep laugh shaking the trees. "Aye, Brogy! Not even age dulls our blades!"
From the edge of the forest, Varin, Nami, and Usopp watched in stunned silence. The ground still trembled faintly beneath their feet, the air thick with the heat of battle long ended.
Brogy walked toward his old rival with a few of the barrels Varin had "borrowed" from the ship, borrowed only because Nami didn't understand the concept of free gifts, but fear of the towering giant had kept her from pressing the issue. Brogy handed one over, his grin splitting wider.
"Drink, brother! The taste of peace, until the next call!"
Dorry took it with a roar of thanks, lifting the whole thing like a cup and drinking deep. Brogy did the same, their laughter shaking the island once more.
Within minutes, the duel was nothing but a memory. The volcano's fire dimmed, the echoes faded, and Brogy made his way back toward camp, steps heavy but sure. His armor was scorched, his arms cut in a dozen places, yet the giant wore a smile brighter than the morning sun.
"Victory shared!" he bellowed as he returned, voice full of pride. "No man can best a true friend!"
Varin glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "Doesn't look like either of you's winning anytime soon."
Brogy only laughed, shaking the forest again. "Then let the island tremble forever!"
The laughter rolled off into a deep sigh as he lowered himself against the ancient skeleton, the ground shivering under the weight. The bones creaked, but held like they'd grown used to bearing giants.
"Ah," Brogy said after a long pause, settling his axe beside him. "Dorry mentioned having a few visitors today. Friends of yours, I assume, one with a straw hat, a girl, and… a duck." His face scrunched in confusion, beard shifting with the motion. "A duck, mind you! Nearly threw me off balance just hearing it."
Nami blinked, relief flickering across her face. "Luffy, Vivi, and Karoo," she said. "At least they're safe…" She trailed off, her voice cooling again as her brow furrowed. "But that leaves Sanji and Zoro unaccounted for."
Usopp gave a weary laugh, sitting down on the rough-hewn log Brogy had made for them. "Well, Zoro might be halfway to Alabasta for all we know. I've seen blind people less lost than him."
Brogy's laughter returned, deep and echoing through the trees. "A fine crew, by the sound of it! Brave hearts and strange beasts, my kind of company!"
Varin leaned against one of the smaller ribs jutting from the ground, arms crossed. The warmth from the midday sun washed over the clearing, and for the first time all morning, the island felt still again.
Nami stared out toward the treeline, her voice soft. "If Luffy's with Dorry…" She didn't finish. The words just hung there, thin as the drifting smoke from the fire.
For a moment, none of them spoke. The jungle filled the silence instead, alive, restless, whispering through the leaves. The wind shifted, a sudden, harder gust sweeping through the clearing and rattling the bones of the old titan's skeleton.
Varin's head snapped up. His nose twitched once, eyes narrowing toward the direction the wind had come from.
"Do you smell that?" he asked quietly.
Usopp looked up from the log, blinking. "Huh? You mean the jungle? Or maybe the volcano? There's been ash in the air since morning."
Varin shook his head, a crease forming between his brows. "No… not that. It smelled like….tea? Maybe. Something flowery. But there was something else under it." His voice trailed off as he turned his head, searching for it again.
The breeze faded as quickly as it had come, leaving only the heat of the campfire and the faint hiss of leaves settling back into stillness.
He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. "It's gone."
Nami glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "Tea? Out here?"
"Yeah," Varin said, still staring into the jungle. "That's what's wrong with it."
Brogy, half-listening from where he sat leaning against the skeleton, let out a low chuckle. "If the wind carries strange scents, little wolf, it only means the island's waking up again."
Varin didn't answer. His eyes lingered on the treeline, watching the leaves move against no wind at all.
Varin rose to his feet slowly, brushing stray bits of leaves and wood that had tangled in his hair. His movements were calm, but his eyes had sharpened, fixed on the direction the wind had carried that faint, impossible scent.
"I'm going to see if I can find it," he said, his tone even but leaving no room for argument. "You two don't leave camp. Or Brogy, for that matter."
Usopp looked up, alarm flickering across his face. "Wait, what do you mean, don't leave Brogy? What could even be out there?"
Varin didn't answer right away. He adjusted the strap of his weapon across his back, gaze still on the jungle. "That's what I'm going to find out."
Nami crossed her arms, brow furrowing. "And what if it's nothing? The island's full of strange smells, you said it yourself."
"Maybe," Varin said, a faint grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. "But the jungle doesn't brew tea."
That earned him a flat look from Nami and a nervous laugh from Usopp, though neither said more.
Brogy let out a low rumble of a chuckle, watching the smaller man stride toward the treeline. "You walk careful, little wolf. Things here don't take kindly to strangers."
Varin only raised a hand in acknowledgment as he slipped into the shadows between the trees. The green swallowed him whole within seconds, leaving behind only the echo of his boots on damp earth and the faint hiss of leaves closing around him.
It didn't take him long to figure out he was lost. He'd gone straight, or what he thought was straight, following the same direction the breeze had come from for maybe half an hour. The jungle didn't make it easy. Every few steps, the ground dipped or twisted, and the trees seemed to lean in closer, branches crossing like they were trying to block his path.
He stopped once, glancing back the way he came. Nothing looked familiar, not the roots, not the broken branches; he thought he'd marked with his boot. The air was still, heavy with the smell of earth and damp leaves. Whatever faint scent of tea he'd picked up earlier was long gone, swallowed by the wild.
He huffed quietly, dragging a hand through his hair. "Figures."
There wasn't panic in him, just mild annoyance. He'd been through worse places, more dangerous ones, and getting turned around in a forest didn't rank very high on the list of problems. Still, something felt off, that scent wasn't natural, not entirely.
So he kept walking, slower this time, letting instinct lead more than direction. The jungle was loud in its own kind of quiet, the creak of old trees, the distant cry of something hunting far off, the steady rhythm of his boots pressing into damp soil.
After a while, he stopped trying to find anything at all. The scent was gone. The only thing left was the forest and the slow, steady realization that he'd probably have to circle back and hope Brogy's laughter was loud enough to follow home.
The volcano erupted again a few minutes later, a low rumble that shook the trees and made Varin's teeth chatter in reflex. He had to keep moving, slower this time, more on edge. His strength, honed through years of survival, meant nothing here; one misstep into the path of a hundred-ton giant would flatten him without a second thought.
The air shifted, carrying a sharp, acrid smell. Gunpowder. Varin froze for a heartbeat, nostrils flaring. Usopp was the only one on their ship who used the stuff, the pellets he packed into his slingshot, filled to explode when needed, but this… this was different. Stronger. And off. Almost like the gunpowder wasn't the main scent at all, just a hint layered over something else, darker and more solid.
He adjusted his steps, following the faint trace. The smell moved slightly, like a living thing had shifted since he first caught it. Not far, not fast, but enough that he had to turn a little, changing his angle to keep it in the nose of his awareness.
The trail led him toward one of the massive skeletons scattered across the island. It was different from Brogy's home, wider in the chest, longer limbs, a ribcage jutting at sharper angles. Varin's mind ticked over the possibilities. The other giant Brogy mentioned?
He paused a moment, eyes scanning the canopy above and the ground below. The jungle was quiet around him, almost too quiet, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Varin took a slow breath and stepped forward again, following the scent. Gunpowder. Then metal, blood, and the faint tang of earth. The mix crawled under his skin, made the hairs on his arms lift like something was watching.
He moved faster without meaning to, boots sliding in the loam, breath deep and even. The smell was pulling him somewhere, threading through the heavy air like it wanted to be found. Seconds blurred into minutes, and the jungle didn't changesame noise, same heatbut the feeling did. Sharper now. Closer.
Feathers broke the monotony first. Yellow and black, burned along the edges, still warm. Karoos. The damn duck. The thing hated him, but it was crew, and Varin had learned to respect that much. Singed meant heat. Fire. And fire meant people, because nothing on this island burned anything and left the jungle standing.
He crouched, touched the feather, felt the brittle ash crack at his fingers. Then he was moving again, faster. The scent was weaker now, drifting, carried by the wind maybe, but it still led in the same direction. Toward the skeleton. Toward whatever had started this.
He didn't think about why he was running. He just knew he had to.
Eventually, he broke through the treeline, branches snapping at his shoulders as he burst into the open. The air felt different here, heavier, the heat from the smoldering ruin rolling across his face before he even stopped running. The skeleton loomed in front of himmassive, blackened bones half-sunken into the churned dirt. And what he saw there stopped him cold.
Karoo lay near the base of the ribs, sprawled awkwardly, half-buried in the ash. The duck's feathers were ruined, turned to a dull, ashy gray, charred patches across its wings and chest. Some were still smoking faintly. For a long second, Varin thought the thing was dead. The only sound was the soft crackle of something still burning nearby. Then, as he dropped to his knees beside it, he caught a faint, uneven rise of the chest. Shallow, but steady. Alive, but Barely. That was about as much as he knew how to diagnose.
He pressed a hand lightly against its side, feeling the weak pulse beneath the scorched feathers. Karoo didn't move. Didn't even flinch. He wasn't a medic, wasn't a healer, hell, half the time he couldn't keep himself in one piece, but he could tell enough: whatever had done this hadn't meant to scare them. It meant to end them.
He stood, dirt and ash sliding off his knees as he turned. Ussop was next. The kid was a few feet off, half-buried in a crater of torn-up ground, body twisted like a puppet that'd been dropped mid-performance. His slingshot lay bent beside him, the band snapped and was smoking faintly. Varin moved fast, heart hammering. He crouched and pulled him free, the soil giving way in wet clumps.
Ussop's head lolled, eyes shut tight, face pale under the soot. His nose was bleeding, and a deep bruise was already forming along his temple. Varin cursed under his breath. The poor bastard had probably been thrown headfirst into the dirt. Concussion for sure. Maybe worse. But there was still a faint pulse under his thumb, and the kid's chest was rising, ragged but steady. "You stubborn little bastard," Varin muttered, setting him down gently against a piece of shattered bone. "You're too damn noisy to die quietly."
He looked up. Luffy was the last one.
The captain was pinned under the ribcage. The ground around him was cratered and scorched black. Smoke curled around his form. Varin's stomach turned at the sight.
He hurried forward. The smell of burned flesh and gunpowder hung thick in the air. Luffy's chest was still moving slowly, uneven, but moving. His hat had been flung off somewhere, and his hair clung to his forehead with soot and blood. The left side of his face was swollen, his arms covered in fresh burns that traced up to his shoulder.
What froze Varin wasn't the damage; it was the expression. Even unconscious, Luffy's face was locked in something between rage and defiance. Teeth bared, brow furrowed, jaw clenched tight. It wasn't pain that twisted him like that; it was fury. Pure, undiluted fury. Whoever had done this hadn't just hurt his crew. They'd touched something deeper, something the kid didn't forgive.
Varin crouched there, chest heaving, trying to piece together what the hell could've done this. Fire. Pressure. A fight that turned half the clearing to ash. Giants didn't fight like this. Animals didn't burn things this clean. No cannonball hit this hard. He could feel it in his gut.
He looked around again, the air still thick with heat shimmer, the edge of the jungle glowing faintly where embers had caught. The quiet was wrong too, unnatural. No birds. No insects. Even the trees seemed to lean back from the clearing like they didn't want any part of it.
Varin swallowed hard, wiped the sweat and ash from his face, and forced his breathing steady. He took one last look at the three of them, his crewmates, broken but breathing, and then back to the trail leading deeper inland. The smell of gunpowder was still there, along with the scent of lemon, faint but steady. Fading, but not gone. Someone had walked away from this.
Varin's jaw tightened until his teeth ached. The ground felt too still, the air too heavy, as if the jungle itself was waiting to see what he'd do. His hands clenched, the faint tremor in them nothing compared to the one building behind his eyes. Whoever had done this hadn't gone far. And for the first time since Loki, since that face the false god wore, Varin was angry, truly angry.
"V…a…rin…" Luffy's voice broke through the noise in his head. The captain was half-pinned beneath one of the skeleton's ribs, dust clinging to his skin. Varin moved fast, crouched beside him, and tried to lift the titanic skeleton, but nothing. Even with all his strength, it wouldn't budge.
"Varin," Luffy rasped, forcing the words out between clenched teeth, "they took Vivi. Save her. I'll catch up as soon as I'm out."
There was no hesitation in his tone. Not fear, not pain. Just the same iron certainty that always sat behind that grin.
Varin stared at him, something primal stirring in his chest. The growl that escaped his throat wasn't a sound so much as a reaction, low, guttural, heavy enough to vibrate the air between them. He didn't try to speak again. He just nodded.
And then it hit him, the pull. The thrum of his power comes alive on its own. His claws burst forth, not the simple nails he usually wove out when he needed to kill, but something larger, heavier. Wild. Wolfish. Each curved like a blade, nearly three inches long, thick as bone, catching the light through the trees.
He didn't question it. Didn't care.
The scent hit stronger now, gunpowder, lemon, blood, and something acrid, like burning oil, drawing him toward the heart of the island. Toward Brogy and Dorry's battlegrounds.
He tore through the jungle, each stride heavier, faster, closer to the rhythm of the island itself. The thought repeated in his mind, a drumbeat in the chaos of adrenaline and fury: faster. He needed to be faster. Faster than the wind, faster than death, faster than anything that dared touch what was his.
He barely noticed the change at first, the creeping sensation along his skin, the heat under his hair. His arms shifted, bones elongating, muscles knotting differently, stronger. Fur sprouted in thick, dark ash-gray sheets, crawling across his chest, down his arms, along his back and legs, coating him in something primal. It was like a living thing, spreading, claiming him, sharpening him in ways he hadn't known he could feel.
The world seemed bigger now. Slightly taller trees, slightly deeper shadows, the rustle of leaves amplified and ringing in his senses. Every movement of the jungle was clear, every hidden path, every predator or prey in the distance. He was seeing the island not just with his eyes, but with his instincts.
When he finally looked down, it wasn't his arms he saw anymore. His claws caught the broken sunlight filtering through the canopy, long and curved, wickedly sharp. The runes that marked him burned faintly to life, etched in light around his four ankles, curling up along his neck, and tracing the line of his muzzle.
He wasn't Varin, not in the sense the world knew him. A wolf, towering, ash-gray, with faint patterns of lighter fur around his ankles, jaw, and neck, had risen. The beast's jaw was wide, teeth catching the sun in cruel glints, eyes the color of frozen silver, piercing and aware, seeing everything. It stood maybe five feet tall at the shoulder, and from nose to tail at least twelve long, every movement fluid, a predator perfected by nature.
And yet, it wasn't just a creature of rage. It was a revelation. The runes etched across its fur, faintly glowing, were not just decoration; they were a promise, a mark of something older, something he had finally reached. A stage he hadn't known existed, unlocked in the blaze of anger and desperation, in the pure, unrestrained will to reach what mattered most.
The wolf surged forward, racing through the jungle as if it had always been made for this, made to run toward the scent of those who dared defy him. Faster, faster, faster, towards its unwilling prey.
It didn't take long for the beast to reach the clearing that the giants had long since turned into their colosseum; the ground was scarred by weapons bigger than ships, by things strong enough to lift mountains.
Its eyes locked on the figures in the clearing, muscles coiling under thick fur. Its claws dug into the scarred earth, feeling every ridge, every divot left by battles long gone. The scent of the enemies, the faint tang of fear and blood, pulled it closer, each step deliberate, silent despite its size. The jungle behind it seemed to shrink, the air thick with anticipation.
Four figures stood near the center of the clearing: Mister Five and Miss Valentine from Whiskey Peak, a man with the number three sculpted into his hair, and a small girl, no older than ten, though the way she stood left no doubt she was one of them.
Off to the side, Brogy lay half-buried beneath a shell of solid white rock, the weight of it enough to hold even a giant in place. Near him, Nami, Zoro, and Vivi were trapped atop what looked like a massive candle sculpted from the same strange substance. Their feet were bound, their bodies already dusted with the powder that drifted constantly from above. It gathered around them in a slow, steady fall, too deliberate to be natural. The enemy wasn't trying to kill them quickly. They wanted to trap them, seal them in, let the stone swallow them inch by inch.
Brogy's massive form strained against some sort of white rock, growling low, the sound a rumble that shook the trees. The trapped crew, Nami, Zoro, and Vivi, all shifted slightly, trying not to panic, their feet bound and bodies heavy under the weight of the rock dust encasing them.
The wolf stepped into the clearing, claws scraping the ground, a low growl vibrating through the trees. The enemies stiffened, sensing the presence even before their eyes fully took in the creature.
"Huh? Oh, it's just a wolf," the man with the number three in his hair said, waving a hand lazily as if dismissing it. "Just another beast from this island. Kill it, so we can continue, please."
"Mister Five, if you wouldn't mi–" Miss Valentine began, but the words never finished.
The wolf moved before she could finish her sentence, muscles coiling, then releasing in an explosive surge of motion. Its legs drove into the ground, propelling it forward like a fired round, a blur of gray fur and flashing teeth. The air split with the force of its lunge, the distance between predator and prey gone in a heartbeat.
The wolf's body slammed into Mister Five with the force of a battering ram, muscles coiled and claws scraping the earth for leverage. Mister Five barely had time to react; his outstretched hand caught in the jaws of the beast. Teeth sank in with a wet, horrifying crunch, the sound echoing across the clearing, bone splintering under pressure as the wolf's momentum carried them both through the air.
Mister Five screamed, the sound cut short as the wolf twisted violently, claws digging into the ground, tail whipping, turning him like a ragdoll. The wolf's teeth clenched tighter, unrelenting, grinding flesh and tendon together with horrifying precision. The arm didn't just break; it was torn apart, ripped from elbow to fingers in a spray of blood and shredded muscle. A chunk of bone slipped from the wolf's teeth, landing several feet away, and the rest of the arm followed in a grotesque arc.
MIster 5 hit the ground hard, rolling, his body convulsing, the mangled stump of what had been his hand gleaming faintly in the jungle air. Blood coated the clearing in red, mingling with the dust and ash of the battlefield.
The wolf shook its massive head, shaking the remaining bits of the viscera off its muzzle, splattering the ground where it landed. Mister Five lay still for a heartbeat, eyes wide, the scream of pain long gone, replaced by a dawning terror that froze him in place.
The forest was quiet for a moment, only the wet hiss of blood dripping onto the dirt breaking the stillness. The wolf's silver eyes glinted faintly, runes along its fur pulsing, as it reared, ready to turn its fury toward the remaining three. Every muscle coiled, every movement precise, a predator that existed solely to annihilate.
All eyes fixed on the beast again, wide with a mix of shock and fear, Nami, Vivi, Miss Valentine, the now one-armed Mister Five, the man with the odd hair, and the small girl huddled together, frozen. Only Zoro and Brogy stood apart, their faces taut with surprise, but not the panic that gripped the others.
Miss Valentine helped Mister Five to his feet, his still hand tight around the stump of his elbow.
"Th-this… this is a jungle, right?" she stammered, voice shaking. "W-wolves… don't… live in jungles, do they?" Her grip on the parasol whitened her knuckles, trembling slightly as she tried to steady herself.
The wolf didn't respond to the words, its silver eyes fixed, unblinking, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. The growl that rumbled from its chest wasn't a sound so much as a warning, vibrating through the clearing, shaking dust from the rocks and rattling the trees nearby.
Mister Five staggered, clutching the raw, bloody stump of his arm, swaying unsteadily as Miss Valentine dragged him upright. His breathing was shallow, ragged, and his eyes never left the wolf.
"Y-yeah," the man with the number three in his hair muttered nervously, hands twitching near his side, "wolves… don't do… jungle." He swallowed hard, staring as the beast shifted its weight slightly, low to the ground, ready to spring again.
Miss Valentine's grip on her parasol tightened until her knuckles cracked, the elegant weapon trembling in her hand as she tried to steady herself. "It… it doesn't matter where it's from," she said, voice quivering. "It's… It's insane!"
Brogy's laughter rolled through the clearing like thunder, echoing off the giant bones and broken earth. "Gabababababa! It's literal now, isn't it, little wolf?" he boomed, grinning despite the stone still pinning him down. "I can't wait to see what name you make for yourself. Truly, you take after your grandfather."
The wolf turned its head toward the sound, ears twitching, silver eyes flashing for a moment with something almost human.
Nami's voice trembled as she spoke, her words barely above a whisper. "Va–Varin? Is that you?"
The beast looked at her, its gaze sharp and piercing, but there was no real answer, only the low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the ground beneath her feet. It wasn't a threat, not exactly. It was something older, something caught between man and instinct, between rage and recognition.
The runes along the wolf's fur pulsed once, faint light flickering like dying embers. The silver eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat longerlong enough to hint at understandingbefore they shifted back toward the enemies. The growl deepened, the fur along its spine bristling.
Whatever piece of Varin was left behind those eyes, it was buried now beneath something older, something that had waited far too long for mercy.