The man in black tumbled twice across the ground, then staggered back to his feet. Blood still poured from his wounds, yet his face twisted into a bizarre grin.
"Hahaha! No one can stop me from escaping! Don't you know? Armadillos can dig!"
With a leap, he shrank down, his form collapsing into that of a true beast. Moments ago, he had been in his half-beast form. Now, he was a full-sized armadillo.
With a sharp shhk! he burrowed straight into the ground, leaving only a hole behind before vanishing beneath the earth.
"What?!"
The government officer's face turned as dark as thunder, his eyebrow twitching violently. He had been so certain of his victory—he even had Geppo, the Moon Step, to chase prey into the sky. But how could he have predicted an enemy who could vanish underground?
Upstairs, Rogers blurted out a curse. "Oh, come on! That's a thing?!"
His jaw practically dropped. So the Armadillo Fruit could be used like this? And this island's rocky foundation somehow made it possible to burrow through? Or maybe it was just the user's own development of the fruit? Either way, this was an escape technique straight out of a cheat code.
Now Rogers could only hope the man didn't flee too far. Fortunately, with the stench of blood trailing thickly in the air, Rogers figured as long as he stayed close, he could track him down. Snapping the window open on the far side of his room, Rogers leapt down, circling around the hotel and sniffing for the man's bloody trail.
Back at the hole, the government officer glared into the pitch-black tunnel, only seeing broken stone and rubble. His build was far too large to fit inside; in his beast form, the fugitive had made the tunnel small and narrow.
His subordinates edged closer, but none dared speak. They knew their superior was seething with fury—one wrong word could be the end of them.
The officer's expression twisted into a snarl, venting his rage on those nearby. "What are you standing here for? He's a Devil Fruit user! He can't cross the sea, not in his condition! He's bleeding out, badly injured—so scour the island! Search every corner! In the name of dark justice, find him!"
"Yes, sir!"
The men scattered at once, terrified to do otherwise.
Rogers, crouched in the shadows, drew in a deep breath. The air still carried a faint metallic tang—blood. Then his eyes lit up. A stronger whiff, faint but clear, drifted from another street. Got you. He bolted after it.
"Haah… haah… I made it… barely," the man in black muttered as he crawled out from a hole in a narrow alley, transforming back into human form. He clutched the case tight, his chest soaked in blood, breath ragged. Though still able to move, he was losing too much blood. If this continued, discovery was inevitable.
His tunneling had limits—no more than a few dozen meters per effort, and each time drained a massive amount of stamina. Already, his body trembled with exhaustion.
A grim thought flickered in his mind: If I can't escape… then I'll destroy it. If I'm doomed, I'll be damned before I let them take it.
Stumbling along, he followed the sound of crashing waves, choosing the shortest route to the shore. Soon, the salty wind hit his nose. He collapsed onto a jagged rock at the water's edge. His face was pale, his crude bandages soaked through, blood dripping steadily. The sea roared before him, waves smashing against stone, yet strangely, his heart felt calm.
He opened the case. Inside lay the Dark-Dark Fruit. His lips curled in a self-mocking smile. "In the end, wealth without strength to guard it… is nothing but bait for wolves."
From a street above, Rogers pressed against the wall of a house, eyes glued to the man at the shore. When he saw the fruit appear, his heart leapt into his throat. No way… he wouldn't…
The man glared at the sea, jaw clenched. With a hoarse shout, he hurled the fruit high into the air. "To hell with justice! To hell with the World Government! You'll never have it!"
The Dark-Dark Fruit arced through the air, then splashed into the churning waters.
Having done so, the man turned away, staggering off in the opposite direction of Rogers. His only thought now was survival—perhaps some slim chance remained if he found someone willing to help him. But deep down, he knew. This island was no safe haven.
Rogers' pulse thundered. It's sinking—no! Not like this! Thankfully, the man's escape path led away from his hiding spot. Without hesitation, Rogers sprinted for the shore, flung himself into the water, and dove deep.
The currents were violent, swirling with dangerous force, but his sharpened senses—eyes, ears, nose—all seemed heightened even underwater. Vision cut clearer through the gloom than most men could hope for.
He dove deeper, lungs burning, searching frantically. Then—there! A dark purple fruit, its swirling patterns unmistakable, caught in a current, drifting steadily away.
With a surge of will, Rogers kicked downward, teeth gritted. His lungs screamed for air. As his vision began to haze, his hand finally closed around it.
Got it!
Excitement bubbled so fiercely he nearly swallowed seawater. He hacked and coughed, forcing himself to swim upward, legs burning, chest tight as iron.
At last, he broke the surface. Rogers gasped, sucking in great gulps of precious air, fruit clutched tight against his chest. Looking around, he realized the current had dragged him some thirty to forty meters from shore.
And suddenly, it clicked. So that's why the Dark-Dark Fruit only appeared ten years later in the original story. It must've been swept away by the sea currents back then, lost until someone finally stumbled across it.
Shaking his head, he shoved the thought aside. Now wasn't the time for overthinking. He raised the dripping fruit above the waves, staring at its familiar form, the ominous spiral patterns across its surface.
A laugh burst out of him, wild and triumphant.
"Hahahahaha! Finally mine—the Dark-Dark Fruit!"
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T/N:
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