"Tch, honestly… everyone's always in such a rush." Rosinante said coolly.
As the Reaper appeared, Rosinante casually swung a fist to the side.
The Reaper raised his scythe, trying to reap Rosinante's life in a single blow—but before he could even bring the blade down, a tremendous force smashed into him.
In an instant, he was sent flying backward over ten meters before flipping midair and landing on his feet. But even as he landed, the sheer power of the strike dragged him back across the ground, carving deep grooves beneath his feet.
"So that's how it is… a true monster, indeed." The Reaper finally steadied himself, lifting his head to glare heavily at Rosinante.
"How does it look?" Dark Thorn asked, appearing beside him.
"He hasn't even gotten serious," the Reaper replied in a low voice, "but even so… his punch is terrifying."
"Do you have a chance?" Dark Thorn asked flatly.
"It'll be troublesome," the Reaper admitted.
Dark Thorn was momentarily stunned—troublesome? Facing such a monster, he himself didn't see even a glimmer of victory, and yet the Reaper called it merely troublesome?
Rosinante, meanwhile, looked at his fist in mild surprise, then turned his gaze toward the Reaper, who stood there unscathed after taking his blow.
"I see… so this is the power of the Death Soul Fruit's death aura?"
A faint wisp of black smoke clung to Rosinante's knuckles—an aura that greedily gnawed at his life force.
But Rosinante simply waved his hand, brushing the black mist away. The deathly energy drifted to the ground, and the grass where it landed instantly withered into ash.
The Reaper's eyes narrowed sharply.
He knew how dreadful his death aura was. Anyone tainted by it—anyone normal—would have their flesh corroded and their body rot from within. Only those with extraordinary vitality could resist it, and even then, purging it required explosive bursts of life energy.
Yet Rosinante had brushed it off—instantly, effortlessly—and the Reaper hadn't sensed even the faintest flare of life force in him.
Impossible.
He'd need to use a much greater level of death energy. The Reaper tightened his grip on his scythe, and waves of black miasma began surging violently from his body, filling the air with suffocating malice.
Seeing that thick black fog of death, Dark Thorn instinctively backed away.
"Reaper, Rosinante isn't someone you can handle so easily. Wait for The oni warrior and the others—we'll have a better chance together," Dark Thorn said cautiously.
"You think anyone can fight beside me with this power?" the Reaper replied coldly.
Dark Thorn fell silent.
He had considered joining forces with the Reaper, but the moment he saw that deathly aura up close, he abandoned the idea. Everyone in the underworld knew—the Reaper's power was infamous for its danger. In battle, one might die not by the enemy's hand, but by the Reaper's own aura.
And in the dark world where betrayal was currency, who would dare fight shoulder to shoulder with someone like him?
"You just keep others from interfering," the Reaper said indifferently, glancing once at Dark Thorn before stepping forward.
In a few swift strides, he stood before Rosinante again. The scythe in his hand gleamed with a dark, sinister light, and in his crimson eyes, Rosinante was already a corpse.
"Alone? You're not going to wait for the others?" Rosinante asked with a slight smirk.
"To deal with you, I alone am enough," the Reaper said coldly.
"If you were using your real body, I might actually be interested," Rosinante said lightly. "But to fight a puppet? That's hardly worth my time."
"So you do understand my ability," the Reaper murmured.
Inside, however, his heart trembled. He hadn't expected Rosinante to see through him so easily—to realize this wasn't his true body.
Meanwhile, ten miles off the coast of the Sabaody Archipelago, on a small, lonely sailboat, a petite figure cloaked in black lifted her head. Beneath the hood was a delicate face—and at that moment, her expression was one of sheer shock.
"The Gray Domain holds the world's largest library," Rosinante said calmly. "The moment I saw you, I cross-referenced your ability with our archives. The Death Soul Fruit is rare—only three recorded awakeners in history. So yes… I know what you are. A Death Puppet."
The Reaper's eyes widened.
No one—not a single soul in the dark world—had ever seen through his secret. To everyone, he was the Reaper himself, the legend who never failed a mission. Yet this man had seen through him instantly.
Even Dark Thorn was stunned. He had never imagined that the Reaper—the number one mercenary in the underworld—was nothing but a puppet.
"No wonder he didn't feel alive," Rayleigh chuckled from afar. "So it's just a puppet."
"Hah! That explains it," Garp laughed.
"The Death Soul Fruit…" Tsuru mused, frowning deeply. "Even the Navy's archives have no proper record of such a fruit. The Gray Domain's library truly deserves its reputation as the greatest in the world. But for them to locate information that precise in mere moments—it means they possess not just knowledge, but extraordinary analytical capability… perhaps even a special Devil Fruit user with that skill."
As the Navy's Chief Strategist, she understood better than anyone what that implied.
The true strength of a power wasn't just in its armies or its warriors—but in its depth, its foundation.
And a vast, living database—used swiftly and efficiently—was the mark of terrifying potential.
"Hey, Reaper of the Dark World," Rosinante said suddenly, his tone light but piercing. "You've played the legend long enough. Ever thought about joining the Gray Domain? Living as… a normal person?"
"A normal life, huh?" the Reaper said with a faint, wistful smile. "Tempting thought. But since you already know my ability—do you really think I could ever live as a normal man?"
As he spoke, he raised his scythe once more, its edge gleaming black, and lunged at Rosinante.
"Well, the Gray Domain's core is already a gathering place for monsters," Rosinante said, easily sidestepping the strike with a single step. "Your power may be unique, but there, it's nothing special."
"If I can defeat you," the Reaper said, his eyes flashing for the first time with something other than indifference, "maybe I'll consider visiting your so-called nest of monsters."
For the first time since gaining his powers, the Reaper's eyes shone—not with malice, but with a faint glimmer of longing.
Ever since awakening the Death Soul Fruit, he had known he'd never live like an ordinary human again. But even monsters longed for a place where they belonged.
"I told you already," Rosinante said, his voice low but filled with certainty, "the Gray Domain's core is a nest of monsters. And I'm the biggest monster of them all. A mere puppet like you doesn't even qualify to face me."
The Reaper's expression darkened. Rage flickered in his crimson eyes as he swung his scythe again and again.
Countless black slashes of death energy flew toward Rosinante, each one brimming with a suffocating aura—lethal enough to kill even with a mere graze.
But Rosinante's observation haki was too sharp. His movements too fast. Those deadly slashes couldn't even touch the hem of his coat.
"Silence," Rosinante said softly, turning his gaze toward the Reaper.