Murphy lived day after day on the deserted island, surviving by hunting, and once he had enough food, throwing himself into relentless training.
A month later, on the beach.
It was just another ordinary evening.
The sun dipped toward the west, casting red afterglow across the sea. The sound of waves rolled endlessly in Murphy's ears.
A flock of seagulls passed overhead, leaving behind a chorus of cries. It was a beautiful sight, but Murphy had no mind to admire it.
Something happened that made him almost delirious with joy.
From the distant sea, a black dot appeared suddenly.
It grew larger and larger. At first Murphy thought he was seeing things. He rubbed his eyes, unwilling to believe.
As time passed, the dot swelled steadily. Murphy unconsciously stopped his training.
The blade in his hand and the armor on his body dissolved back into mud and were absorbed into him.
Murphy's mouth stretched open in wild madness, as if he wanted to release his overwhelming excitement and joy with a shout.
But his trembling body kept him silent.
"Calm down! You need to calm down, Murphy!"
"If you shout, you might scare away that ship."
"Do you really want to wait endlessly for the next one?"
"You must calm down!"
Murphy roared at himself in his heart.
His chest heaved violently, like a great bellows pumping within. Yet his mouth kept stretching wider, almost to his ears, baring his white teeth.
No sound came out.
Only a faint, hoarse hiss squeezed between his teeth, as though crushed into fragments.
It was no laugh, more like the rasp of a rusted machine about to collapse.
"Ha… ha ha…"
The sound was so low it was like muffled thunder rumbling deep within the clouds.
Murphy clamped his trembling hand tightly over his mouth, forcing it down into his throat.
His shoulders shook violently, each breath deep and long, as though he were trying to swallow all the oxygen in the world to quench the flames of joy that threatened to set him ablaze.
If it could be called laughter at all, it was broken, uneven, shattered into countless pieces.
Every fragment brimmed with a near-painful, overflowing ecstasy.
But Murphy's last shred of reason crushed it down, terrified of letting even a hint escape and drive away that distant black dot.
It was a silent explosion, born of the collision between extreme joy and extreme fear.
Murphy's eyes stayed locked on the black dot drawing nearer, until the shape of a ship emerged.
Confirming it was truly a vessel sailing toward this forsaken island, Murphy changed quietly.
A faint red light flickered in his eyes.
"Observation Haki?"
His vision sharpened suddenly. He could sense the living presences aboard the ship. There was no mistake.
An unexpected fortune!
Had the shock of joy awakened his Observation Haki? Or was it the release of despair long held inside?
Murphy didn't know.
But the awakening of Observation Haki was undeniable.
He steadied his mood.
His Observation Haki stayed locked on the ship sailing toward the island.
Turning, he went to the food he had prepared earlier.
Now he needed to restore his strength, to make sure his body was in peak condition when it came time to act.
Chewing ravenously, Murphy continued to watch the ship through his Haki.
It was a pirate vessel. From its mainmast hung a flag: black background, a crudely drawn wolf's head with pricked ears and sharp muzzle, its eyes glowing blood-red with menace.
Behind the wolf's head, crossed bone clubs formed the emblem, coarse and chilling.
Inside the captain's cabin, the Blood Wolf Pirates' captain Warwick studied a rough map laid across his desk, lost in thought.
The map's destination was the very island Murphy stood on.
Beside the island's mark was a name: "Demon Island."
Captain Warwick of the Blood Wolf Pirates.
A Zoan user, Dog-Dog Fruit, Wolf Form.
Bounty: 35 million Berries.
A heinous criminal who had crushed the West Blue Navy's C-3 branch base. An extremely dangerous outlaw, wanted dead or alive.
Beside the map lay a Marine wanted poster.
Knock, knock.
Two knocks echoed in the captain's cabin, breaking Warwick's thoughts.
"Who is it? What is it?" Warwick asked with a frown.
"Captain, it's me, Kata. We're approaching Demon Island. I came to ask for your orders."
The voice came from outside.
"Come in. The door's not locked."
The door creaked open.
A towering man over two meters tall, muscles knotted like steel cables, entered the cabin. He stood respectfully, awaiting Warwick's command.
"Kata, my first mate, did the navigator say how long until we reach Demon Island?" Warwick asked after a pause.
"Captain Warwick, about half an hour until we land. Everyone is waiting for your orders." Kata's tone grew ever more respectful.
Looking at him, Warwick felt a pang of helplessness.
"You still don't acknowledge me, do you, Kata…" he sighed inwardly.
But quickly he composed himself, called Kata along, and left the cabin.
On deck, the crew had already gathered, eyes burning as they looked to their captain.
Warwick gave his orders.
"After we land, I will lead you to the great pirate Black Rhino's treasure."
The crew held their breath.
"By custom, I should take seventy percent, with the rest divided by rank. But you've followed me through countless hardships to reach this place. I've decided to increase your shares."
Their breathing grew heavier.
"I'll only take sixty percent. Men, let's seize it all!"
"Hurrah! Long live Captain Warwick! Long live the Blood Wolf Pirates!"
The thunderous cheers shook the Blood Wolf.
Warwick watched his roused men, the corners of his mouth lifting.
"Kata, you'll stay aboard the Blood Wolf, just in case. You know I trust you most. I couldn't give such an important task to anyone else."
Warwick turned to him with sincere eyes.
"So he still doesn't trust me…" A flicker of emotion crossed Kata's face.
"The rumors say Black Rhino's treasure holds a Devil Fruit. Perhaps it isn't just a rumor… After all, Warwick is the man's direct descendant."
"Then don't blame me, Captain Warwick."
So Kata thought, though nothing showed on his face.
"Don't worry, Captain. I'll guard the Blood Wolf well. No one will set foot on her."
Kata's voice was steady with loyalty.
Warwick nodded, satisfied, then turned his eager gaze toward Demon Island.
On the island, full and ready, Murphy stood atop a giant tree trunk within the coastal forest, staring expectantly at the Blood Wolf drawing nearer.