"The Seven-Star Sword?"
Jin walked toward the bar counter, and suddenly it clicked—Of course. "The Cursed Holy Sword." No wonder it felt so familiar.
But the tale he remembered wasn't the whole truth.
According to Robin's study of ancient ruins on this island, and from the lips of the wizened old priestess, the real story went like this: The sword came first. The Seven-Star Sword.
Three princes, all of them hopelessly in love with the same priestess, fought one another over her. Their battlefield became a graveyard, the blood of thousands soaking into the earth. Resentment, hatred, grief… all of it seeped into the blade.
The Seven-Star Sword drank too deeply. It awakened.
Darkness poured forth. The Blood Moon rose. The kingdom of ancient Aska fell to ruin.
To seal it, the priestess sacrificed her life, fusing her spirit with the sword. The three princes, finally regretful, prayed to the gods for forgiveness. They became three jewels, gems that shackled the sword's power, suppressing its malice for centuries.
But once every hundred years, when the Blood Moon swelled in the sky, the sword's dark will stirred, whispering temptations to any who were weak of heart.
Even Zoro's childhood friend Saka had once succumbed, seduced by the blade's promise. Only Zoro's stubborn words—his fiery sermon of justice and honor—pulled Saka back, and with his renewed will, he destroyed the Seven-Star Sword.
It all sounded like a myth, gilded with gods and destiny. Yet…
Jin preferred reality. To strip away divine trappings and see the core.
"Could it be a Devil Fruit?" he wondered, eyes narrowing.
A king of ancient Aska might have possessed a weapon infused with a Devil Fruit's power. Whoever held it wielded unmatched strength. But when the king aged and died, his three sons, desperate to claim it, turned on each other.
Too much blood stained the blade. Too many souls fed into it.
The fruit awakened.
Just like that singer who wielded the Uta Uta no Mi, the sword's will manifested in darkness, in illusions, in the ominous Blood Moon itself. It consumed its kingdom.
In the end, the priestess gave her soul to chain it, and the princes followed, binding their essence into the jewels, hoping no one else would fall.
Viewed that way, the tale was no longer divine myth. It fit perfectly with the brutal logic of the pirate's world.
Jin's lips curled.
"When Saka wielded it, he displayed traits of a serpent… Could it be a Zoan? An animal-type Devil Fruit? Or better yet…" His eyes gleamed. "A Mythical Zoan. Its attributes tied to the moon, to darkness, to human desire…"
Yes. This island hid a Devil Fruit.
And if he claimed it, his Carrier would be only one step away from its second evolution.
He had already ordered Wilson and the others to sail back to Hannabal. They were to seize the tavern master and hold the town. The "token" of victory in the tournament? That was just ceremony, a prop for appearances.
The real prize lay here.
But Jin wasn't reckless. "This fruit is troublesome," he thought. "One, it has guardians. Two, it carries a strong will of its own. And now with the Navy prowling… This isn't the time to risk the gutter."
No. He would wait. Patience. Preparation. Strike when the island forgot to breathe.
For now, he played the role.
At the bar, he dropped two hundred Berries. The bartender froze, then glanced him up and down. Slowly, he retrieved a wooden box from behind the counter and set it on the surface.
Across the tavern, the group of men who had been loudly debating earlier suddenly went silent. Their eyes narrowed. The box? Here? With him?
They were Gasparde's watchdogs. Posted here to make sure no one else claimed the prize first.
"Hey, kid," one of them growled. "Hand over the box."
"That thing doesn't belong to you. Touch it, and you'll die."
They rose from their seats, fists curling, the tension thickening.
And at the same time, the bartender's hand slipped beneath the counter—came up with a flintlock pistol.
Bang!
The shot cracked through the tavern.
Jin slammed his palm against the bar, launched himself backward in a perfect flip, the bullet whistling past his chest. He snatched the box mid-spin, then lashed out with a kick that struck the bartender's jaw. The man collapsed in a heap.
Landing light as a cat, Jin blurred forward. A series of vicious kicks rattled through the room. One, two, three—six men went flying, their bodies smashing into tables and chairs, splintering wood with every crash.
When the dust settled, Jin calmly adjusted his coat.
His palm split open. A dark hole yawned wide, and the wooden box vanished into it. Swallowed.
He smiled faintly. Ever since his awakening, the bond between himself and the Carrier had deepened. With focus, he could channel its powers directly. This—this was a shared subspace, born from the Awakened Munch-Munch Fruit.
The prize was already secured.
Outside, footsteps thundered.
Navy soldiers rushed in, rifles leveled, forming a line. Muskets aimed at the tavern door.
The tension broke when the door slammed open. A shadow leapt through the smoke, weaving through a hail of bullets with inhuman grace. In three bounds he was already beyond the cordon, sprinting for the docks.
"Pirate?" someone shouted.
"Don't let him escape!"
Commander Hina arrived just in time, her coat flaring, her cigarette still smoldering. Her sharp eyes locked on the running youth.
"Stop right there!"
She surged forward, her long legs carrying her like an arrow. As she ran, iron bars sprouted from her arms, stretching outward to form a cage.
"Tekkai no Kekkai—Iron Cage!"
Her arms snapped shut, the lattice slamming closed around Jin.
He blinked in mild surprise. "Oh? Black Cage Hina? You're here?"
For a heartbeat he considered breaking free. But then—why bother? He wasn't some hunted criminal. He wasn't a pirate with a bounty. He was a king.
So he stilled himself, letting the cage close around him.
Dragged before Hina, Jin stood tall, unruffled.
"I am Commander Hina of the Navy Headquarters," she declared, cigarette smoke curling from her lips. "What happened here?"
The soldiers began shouting over each other, recounting the tavern brawl.
When they finished, Hina turned her sharp gaze on him. "You. You're the one who took the token. A pirate?"
"Pirate?" Jin barked a laugh, voice full of arrogance. "You fools know who you're talking to?" His chin lifted. "I am a king. A king of a World Government member nation."
The Marines froze. Hina's jaw slackened, cigarette nearly dropping from her lips.
"A… a king?!"
"Impossible—"
"No way—"
Even the soldiers who had raised their rifles now glanced at each other nervously.
Hina narrowed her eyes. "If that's true… then why were you in that tavern? Why the fight? Why flee from my men?"
Jin rolled his eyes. "Why? I wanted a drink. Is that not allowed?"
His tone turned sharp. "Some fools inside mocked me. So I taught them a lesson. Then I stepped outside and saw your men with rifles pointed. Tell me, Commander—if you saw that, wouldn't you run too?"
The Marines shuffled uneasily. She had no counter to that.
Hina rubbed her temples. A headache.
Still, she kept her guard. "You say you're a king. Which kingdom?"
"Does it not show?" Jin spread his hands grandly. "I am the ruler of Drum Island. I inherited the throne from King Wapol himself."
Drum Island. Wapol.
Hina stiffened.
She remembered—last year, during the Reverie at Mary Geoise, she'd been stationed to guard one of the kings. She had overheard the stories of Wapol—the absurd glutton, the tyrant who had attended.
"You're saying… Wapol is dead?"
Jin inclined his head solemnly. "An accident. He perished. I, Jin, his illegitimate son, was chosen by the people of Drum to inherit the crown."
The tavern was silent. The Marines stared.
A pirate? A king? Or something far more dangerous?