Elric approached the mountain of roasted lamb shanks that had materialized in his storage space, and the rich aroma hit him instantly like a physical wave—a smoky, peppery scent that made his stomach growl despite the fact that he had already eaten a full meal earlier that evening.
The meat was piled high, each shank perfectly cooked, the exterior glazed to a deep mahogany color that shimmered under the apartment's dim light. Chili flakes caught the glow like tiny embers, and he could see where the fat had caramelized into crispy, savory edges.
It looked almost too perfect to be real. Like something from a high-end restaurant's promotional photos rather than actual food.
"Damn," he muttered with a small grin, genuine appreciation coloring his voice, "these even smell better than anything I've ever had in the real world."
And that was saying something. Before the apocalypse, he'd treated himself to decent meals when he could afford it—local barbecue joints, the occasional steakhouse when celebrating something. But this? This was on another level entirely.
Even after days of living off instant noodles and canned beans, after his palate had adjusted to bland survival rations and chemical preservatives, his appetite surged at the sight.
He reached out with eager hands, tore a piece off one of the lamb shanks—the meat falling away from the bone with practiced ease—and took a hearty bite.
Juicy. Tender. Real.
The flavors exploded across his tongue—the richness of the lamb itself, perfectly seasoned with spices he couldn't quite identify, the slight heat from the chili, the smoky depth that spoke of slow roasting. Fat melted in his mouth, coating everything in savory decadence.
It was the kind of meal that reminded him what food could be, what it should be, before the world reduced survival to mere calories and hydration.
As the taste lingered on his palate, as he chewed slowly to savor every note of flavor, he closed his eyes and pulled his consciousness back into his System Space.
Inside that boundless, surreal void—a place that existed somewhere between reality and pure data—two distinct areas spread before him like territories on a map.
On the left, the Resource Sector stretched into impossible distance. It was stacked high with endless supplies that defied physics and storage capacity: bottled water glinting like ice under non-existent light, arranged in perfect geometric patterns. Crates of dried food, organized by type and expiration date. And now, newly arrived, that magnificent hill of roasted lamb shanks, still steaming faintly despite existing in a space where temperature shouldn't mean anything.
On the right, his Abyssal Fruit Tree stood in stark contrast to the orderly supplies.
It was a thing of dark beauty and subtle menace.
The tree had grown again—noticeably taller since he'd last checked, maybe doubled in height. More defined now, with bark that seemed to shift between solid matter and shadow. Its black roots spread across the ground like veins or cracks in reality itself, pulsing faintly with energy he could feel even without touching them.
The branches glimmered with that strange red light that seemed to come from within, illuminating nothing around them but somehow visible anyway.
Elric's eyes narrowed as he studied it, taking in every detail with the careful attention of someone who understood that knowledge meant power.
The tree had grown again—and on one of its upper branches, extending from a cluster of smaller shoots, hung a single shining fruit. Dark crimson, almost black in the shadows, with veins of gold pulsing across its skin like a heartbeat made visible.
The System called it a "Staring Fruit." And from the look of it—the way it seemed to glow with inner completion, the way it hung heavy on the branch—it was fully ripe and ready for harvest.
Without hesitation, Elric focused his will on the fruit, that mental command he'd learned to direct toward the System Space.
The fruit shimmered in response, its surface rippling like water disturbed by a stone. Then it detached from the branch with a soft sound like tearing silk, floating through the void for a moment before materializing in his real-world hand with a faint hum that vibrated through his bones.
Across the room, back in the physical apartment, Natasha and Jenna were still on their phones—or at least holding them, pretending to scroll through feeds that barely loaded anymore, trying to distract themselves from the tension of the past few days.
The dynamic between them remained awkward, uncomfortable. Natasha with her newfound security and territorial possessiveness. Jenna with her shattered pride and forced submission.
Neither noticed the strange object that had appeared in Elric's palm, too absorbed in their own thoughts and their glowing screens.
Elric turned the fruit over in his hand, examining it closely. The smooth surface reflected the light in strange ways, sometimes showing his reflection, sometimes seeming to look back at him. He raised it toward his lips—then paused mid-motion.
In One Piece, he remembered from the manga he'd read years ago, no one could eat more than one Devil Fruit without dying—their body would literally explode or tear apart from containing conflicting powers.
Except Blackbeard.
Somehow that character had managed to consume multiple fruits through methods never fully explained. Plot armor, some fans said. Secret technique, others theorized.
He'd already consumed one fruit before—the Ope Ope no Mi, the Surgical Fruit that gave him his Room ability.
Would this one kill him? Would his body reject it, tear itself apart trying to contain two impossibly powerful abilities?
Elric frowned slightly, uncertainty creeping in for the first time in days. "System," he asked mentally, forming the words carefully in his mind, "what happens if I eat this too?"
The cold mechanical voice responded immediately, without any pause for calculation or consideration:
Ding! No rejection detected.
Fruits grown by the Abyssal Tree are adaptive to the host. No limit on the number of fruit powers may be consumed.
He smiled faintly, relief washing through him. "Good. That's exactly what I needed to hear."
So the System's fruits were different from the original Devil Fruits—modified somehow, evolved, designed to coexist within a single host. That opened up possibilities he'd only dreamed about.
The Consumption
Without another word, without giving himself time to second-guess, he bit into the fruit and swallowed it whole.
The taste was as vile as before—perhaps even worse than the first fruit he'd consumed. Bitter beyond measure, metallic like sucking on old coins, and thick like drinking liquid iron mixed with rotten vegetables.
His throat tried to reject it, his gag reflex triggering automatically. But he forced it down through sheer willpower, swallowing the disgusting mass until it hit his stomach like a stone.
A second later, as the last traces of the fruit dissolved in his system, the familiar chime echoed in his consciousness again:
Ding!
New ability acquired: [Staring Fruit]
Level: 1 (1/10)
Skills unlocked:
[Thousand Eyes] — Your field of vision expands exponentially, allowing you to observe locations and people within a 5,000-meter radius. No line of sight required. Can maintain multiple viewpoints simultaneously.
[Perception Sight] — Your eyes can pierce through barriers such as walls, fog, or darkness. Material density affects clarity. Living beings appear as thermal signatures when obscured.
[Emotional Aura] — Detect emotions within 10 meters. Red aura indicates goodwill, black signals hostility, and blue signifies neutrality. Intensity of color reflects strength of emotion.
Elric's brows rose as he processed the information, genuine surprise coloring his expression.
"Emotional detection… even at level one? That's insanely useful."
Most powers started weak, requiring significant investment before becoming practical. But this? This was immediately applicable, immediately powerful. Being able to read emotions meant being able to predict betrayal, identify genuine loyalty, see through lies.
In a world where trust was currency and betrayal meant death, this might be more valuable than combat abilities.
He stood up from where he'd been sitting, his body moving with renewed purpose, and focused his mind.
"Alright, let's test it out properly."
He took a breath, centering himself, then spoke the activation phrase mentally:
The air shifted around him, pressure changing as if reality itself was bending. A faint pulse of light flickered in his pupils—visible for just an instant before settling into a new normal.
And suddenly, his vision expanded outward like an explosion.
The walls of the apartment dissolved in his mind's eye, becoming transparent, irrelevant. They were replaced by a dizzying web of overlapping perspectives, multiple viewpoints feeding into his consciousness simultaneously.
He could see everything within that five-thousand-meter radius.
The lobby downstairs—empty except for overturned furniture and a few scattered belongings left behind in panic.
The wrecked street outside—cars abandoned at odd angles, bodies covered by tarp that no one had claimed, the toxic fog drifting through it all like ghosts.
Even the abandoned convenience store three blocks away came into sharp focus—its shelves looted clean, windows smashed, a few rats scurrying through the debris looking for crumbs.
"Five thousand meters," he whispered, awe coloring his voice despite his attempts at control. "That's… insane."
The amount of information was overwhelming at first—dozens of perspectives, hundreds of details, all demanding attention simultaneously. But somehow his mind adapted, filtering and organizing without conscious effort.
He blinked deliberately, and the vision collapsed back into focus, returning to his normal single perspective. The apartment walls became solid again.
Not even a hint of fatigue. No headache, no mental strain, nothing.
For a moment, Elric was genuinely impressed—and it took a lot to impress him at this point. The System's fruits weren't just power; they were refinement itself. Polished, perfected, without the rough edges or limitations that normal abilities might have.
Then he decided to test the next function, the one that might prove most valuable in the long run.
"Emotional Aura."
A subtle ripple spread through the air around him, like a shift in pressure or temperature that couldn't quite be defined. Within moments, faint colors began to bloom around people and objects within the room—hazy auras visible only to his enhanced vision, overlaying reality like a filter.
Natasha glowed faintly blue, her aura steady and consistent. Calm and neutral, exactly as he'd expect from someone who'd found security and wanted to maintain it. No hidden malice, no secret plans—at least not at this moment.
Jenna, on the other hand, flickered constantly between red and black, her emotions in visible turmoil. Gratitude mixing with anger, confusion fighting with determination, fear battling with pride—all of it fighting for dominance in a chaotic swirl.
Her aura looked like a storm, unstable and dangerous.
Elric folded his arms and smirked, satisfaction warming his chest.
"So… that's how you both really feel."
The discovery wasn't just power in the traditional sense. It was insight. Understanding. Control through knowledge rather than force.
In a world where trust had collapsed like a house of cards, where alliances were formed and broken based on immediate survival needs, where yesterday's friend could become tomorrow's killer over a can of soup—being able to see a person's heart was worth more than any weapon.
More than guns or knives or supernatural combat abilities.
This was strategic power. The kind that built empires rather than just won fights.
Outside, the howling wind grew louder, battering against the apartment windows with enough force to make them rattle in their frames. The sound was almost alive, angry, as if the world itself was protesting its transformation.
Elric glanced toward the distant horizon, activating Thousand Eyes again briefly. His enhanced vision pierced through fog and darkness, showing him the truth of the dying city.
With the new ability, he could already see faint lights flickering in various locations—survivors moving through the darkness, scavenging for supplies, maybe even forming groups for mutual protection.
Civilization wasn't dead yet. The human spark remained, that stubborn refusal to give up that had carried humanity through every crisis in history.
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