I. MARINEFORD — WAR ROOM, THREE MONTHS AGO
The silence in the war chamber was suffocating.
Fleet Admiral Kong stood before a cracked Seastone table, knuckles white, as the candlelight flickered against steel and frustration. The air was heavy with sweat, ink, and failure.
Across from him, Admiral Sengoku remained silent, arms folded, reading a report with slow, weighted breaths.
And in the corner—
Vice Admiral Garp snored lightly, legs propped on a desk, arms behind his head. A half-eaten rice cracker dangled from his lip.
Snore... crunch...
SLAM.
Kong's fist exploded across Garp's skull, flattening his head against the wall and embedding his hat into it.
"WAKE UP, YOU DAMN APE!!"
Garp groaned, rubbing his face.
"Oww... sheesh, Kong... that's concussion number seventy-three this year..."
Kong threw a crumpled bounty poster across the table.
It flared open mid-air, slapping down in front of Sengoku.
WANTEDRAKAN"TYRANT OF THE TIDES"Bounty: 700,000,000 BerriesStatus: Now Affiliated — ROCKS PIRATES
The image was raw, recent—captured after the Dead Reef Massacre. Rakan, standing atop shattered battleships and dead Vice Admirals. His chest bare, eyes cold. Corpses of both Marines and pirates lined the shore behind him.
"He's joined them," Kong said, voice a low snarl. "Another monster aboard the Behemoth."
Sengoku frowned.
"He razed Dead Reef to ash. Marines and pirates—no distinction. Burned their flags. Left the treasure untouched."
Garp yawned.
"Can't say I blame him. They were scum. Besides, that kid's been fun to chase."
"CHASE?!" Kong thundered. "That kid outpaced three warships underwater! He doesn't have a Devil Fruit, Garp! No ship, no allies—and he's already uncatchable."
Sengoku closed the file.
"Sir. This isn't another Kaido or Linlin."
"No," Kong growled. "He's not like them."
"He's beyond them."
A silence fell.
Not in awe.
In understanding.
Because something was rising that did not belong to their world.
II. EAST BLUE — DRAGON GRAVEBELT, NOW
Far beneath the Eastern seas, in an abyss where ancient dragons rest.
A tectonic fault trench littered with the fossilized remains of a species thought myth: Submerged Dragons. Some as large as warships. Others etched with ancient glyphs. Their bones radiated residual energy.
And only one man dared tread here.
He was not invited.
But he had come to consume.
The Feeding
Rakan stood among the dragon skeletons.
No light. No sound. No heat.
For ninety days, he remained submerged. No air. No food beyond what he harvested.
As a transmigrator. A soul from another world, with perfect memory of the lore, theories, and non-canon fragments the author never confirmed.
And this place—this gravebelt—was known only to him
Crunch Crunch Gulp!
And here he devoured.
"Two hundred eighty five ," he muttered.
That's how many full skeletons he had eaten.
Raw.
No fire. No seasoning. No limit.
Each time, his organs screamed.
Each time, he adapted.
His Life Return had advanced beyond technique. It was now instinctual bioreprogramming.
His stomach lining had mutated—becoming an alchemical forge capable of breaking down marrow stone.
His liver processed ancient draconic protein into regenerative compounds.
His bones shattered nightly. Rebuilt by morning.
He shed his old self daily.
And on the final night—when the last rib cracked between his teeth—he felt his body settle.
Not with pain.
But with completion.
Post-Consumption State: [Phase Alpha — Leviathan Core]
Height: 4.8 meters
Musculature: High-density interwoven bands
Skeleton: Reinforced with dragonbone lattice
Heart: Six-chambered under pressure response
Vision: Depth-scan active; enhanced thermal and hydrodynamic layers
Metabolism: Self-modulating—hibernation mode possible
Haki:
Armament: Full-body, passive-layer hardened
Observation: Long-range precision; multi-target track
Conqueror's: Dormant. Unlit.
But he wasn't done.
There was one more piece.
III. OKAN ISLAND — CROWN OF THE FIRST KING
He had seen it before.
Not in this life—but in memories.
Okan Island. Home to the Kirin Crown.
A mythical artifact said to be fused with the soul of the first sea monarch. A mistake in the Devil Fruit lineage. Living metal.
In the plot a researcher ate the crown and turned into an oversized werewolf
He stood now at the throne.
The Kirin-Lion sat atop it, gold-maned, crystal-eyed. Crown perched atop its furred head.
It spoke.
"You do not belong."
Rakan tilted his head.
"No. But I'm staying."
The Kirin rose.
"You carry sins. Blood. Fire. Hunger."
"I carry purpose."
And then—
BOOM.
A single leap. A single punch.
The Kirin's skull shattered against the ground.
The forest split open.
The crown rolled down the stairs.
Rakan picked it up.
And devoured it.
His body detonated.
Scales erupted in sheets across his back. His spine expanded. His skin tore—regrew—tore again. New blood vessels formed. His bones snapped, twisted, merged with something older than DNA.
His scream silenced the island.
Lightning struck the ruins.
His aura burst in concentric waves, pushing back the sea.
A dark blue draconic crest formed at his chest—part scale, part glyph, pulsing with primal pressure.
When he opened his eyes again, they glowed like the deep sea
Current Form:
Height: 4.95 meters
Mass: 1.4 tons
Aura: Multi-layered pressure field (detectable beyond 8km)
Scale Density: Pressure-hardened anti-impact
Voice: Layered harmonic—causes micro-vibration in nearby surfaces
Haki:
Armament: Constant flow; scale-reinforced
Observation: Hyper-accurate; borderline precognition
Conqueror's: Dormant—but now stirring
He clenched his fist.
Punched the nearest mountain.
BOOM!
It turned to dust.
Not rubble
Dust
IV. THE CALL
The Den Den Mushi in his pouch buzzed.
He answered with one hand.
"Rakan here."
"Beehive Island," came Rocks' voice. "Now."
"Understood."
The call cut.
Rakan turned to the unconscious Kirin-Lion beside him.
"I was gonna keep you as a mount."
His stomach rumbled.
"But I haven't had real meat in months."
He roasted the creature in silence, controlling the heat with pulses of internal Armament combustion.
He ate alone.
The island stayed silent.
No beasts dared intervene.
V. DESCENT
When night fell, Rakan walked to the shore.
His eyes shimmered in the moonlight.
He breathed deep.
And stepped into the sea.
The water bent around him.
He vanished beneath the surface—without a ripple.
The Leviathan had awakened.
And the world above had not yet noticed that its storm had begun.