My name is Gern.
I'm a transmigrator.
Once upon a time, I used to fantasize about rampaging across the seas of the pirate world, carving out my own legend.
Reality, however, smashed that dream flat.
No system.
No golden finger.
Not even a halfway decent cheat.
But that was fine. At the very least, I still had the advantage of foreknowledge.
With my understanding of the plot, surely I could cling to some big shot's thigh and live a smooth life, right?
That naïve hope was utterly crushed when I turned ten.
That day, my hands trembled as I clutched a crumpled newspaper. Printed on it was a name that sent a chill down my spine—
"Golden Roger."
Not Pirate King Gol D. Roger.
But Golden Roger.
In that instant, I realized this world had already veered far off the tracks of my memories.
The era of Rocks was still at its peak, and I—a so-called "prophet" who had only finished One Piece through short video clips—suddenly felt like the biggest joke alive.
So the very next day, just to survive, I grabbed a recruitment slip for a menial position at a West Blue Marine branch and enlisted without looking back.
If a runaway like Koby could climb from a chore boy to a Headquarters colonel in just two years, why couldn't I, a transmigrator, do the same?
Reality proved otherwise.
Four years.
A full four years.
No background. No connections. I nearly bled my savings dry bribing people and pulling strings, and still only managed to become a second-class logistics private.
The famed Marine instructor Zephyr had just risen to the rank of Headquarters Vice Admiral under the name "Black Arm," and had yet to show any interest in cultivating the next generation.
Sure, there was the prestigious Marine academy at Headquarters—but its slots were priceless.
And Gern?
I was nothing more than a "three-nothing product" from a West Blue branch.
No Haki.
No Devil Fruit.
No talent.
Aside from being a bit stronger than average, I had nothing.
As for climbing the ranks through military merit? Don't make me laugh. In an era where the Rocks Pirates were running rampant, that was just another way of signing your own death warrant.
Since death awaited me either way… I might as well gamble big.
A Devil Fruit.
That was my answer.
Any one would do. Just one was enough to completely rewrite my fate.
And the opportunity lay in a single event—
The God Valley Incident.
Six Devil Fruits.
A reward offered by the Celestial Dragons.
This was the chance I'd been waiting for over four long years.
For this day, I lived frugally, ran dangerous errands between West Blue mafias, risked my life, and even mortgaged my own organs, borrowing every bit of high-interest debt I could.
Thirty million Beli.
After endless bribes and connections, I finally secured a spot among the Marines assigned to escort the Celestial Dragons on their so-called "educational trip."
Four years of endurance.
All for this moment.
This was no longer just a wager of my life.
I was gambling on the future of the world itself.
…
Year 1484 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
God Valley.
"Hah—!"
Gern forcibly dragged himself out of unconsciousness, snapping his eyes open.
"Conqueror's Haki again…?"
For the fiftieth time, Gern struggled to prop himself up.
He scanned his surroundings. He was lying at the edge of a dense forest on the island's outskirts, with the coastline visible not far away.
Memories surged back like a tidal wave.
The Celestial Dragons' hunting game.
The sudden storm.
The ambush by the Rocks Pirates.
The arrival of Roger and Garp…
And then—the clash of Conqueror's Haki powerful enough to tear the sky apart, followed by a darkness that swallowed everything whole.
"Damn it!"
Gern slammed his fist into the ground.
"What time is it now? How long was I out this time? The battle—"
He forced himself upright, legs trembling from the lingering pressure of Rocks' and Roger's Haki.
Through the thick canopy, the sky had turned an eerie dark red. Dull, thunderous booms echoed in the distance.
"…It couldn't be over already, could it?"
Fear coiled around his heart like a venomous snake.
Based on what he remembered before passing out, the battle of God Valley had already erupted. Roger and Garp should have been locked in their decisive fight against the Rocks Pirates.
And the six Devil Fruits that could change his destiny—
Gern bit his lip until blood filled his mouth, forcing himself to calm down and assess the situation.
"The Fish-Fish Fruit… and the Paw-Paw Fruit… they should still be somewhere on the island…"
His voice caught.
Deep down, he knew better than anyone—the massacre that lasted less than a day had already reached its conclusion.
The moment that sky-rending Conqueror's Haki vanished, it signaled the end of the Rocks era.
Especially now. The island had gone eerily quiet. No more battle cries—only scattered cheers from the Marines.
"…It's all over."
The thought pierced his heart like fangs.
The Fish-Fish Fruit had fallen into the hands of a young Charlotte Linlin.
The Paw-Paw Fruit had been eaten by Bartholomew Kuma.
As for the remaining Devil Fruits… they had likely long since been divided up.
Four years of planning.
Over twenty million Beli borrowed against his own life.
All of it—
A complete joke.
"So in the end… I actually—"
Gern's fists trembled uncontrollably as years of pent-up fury finally erupted.
"AAAH!"
With a hoarse scream, he swung his fist at the oak tree beside him.
The tree shook violently.
And then—a white apple dropped from above, landing squarely on his head.
The impact made Gern freeze for a moment. Instinctively, his gaze fell to the object that had struck him.
"…This…"
What he saw was a strange apple. Its surface was pale white, covered in crystalline crack-like patterns, as if made of shattered glass.
A Devil Fruit.
Gern snatched it up instantly, pupils shrinking as his fingers clenched tight.
He looked up at the tree. Ordinary apples—green and red—hung sparsely from the branches, swaying gently in the wind.
They stood in stark contrast to the fruit in his hand, which radiated an inexplicable, ominous aura.
Gern stared at the pale Devil Fruit, its fractured patterns gleaming strangely under the sunlight.
Crunch.
Without the slightest hesitation, he took a savage bite.
The moment the flesh touched his tongue, an indescribable, nauseating flavor flooded his senses. Fighting the urge to retch, he forced it down.
"Guh—ahhh!!"
He dropped to his knees. "This taste—!"
Before he could complain, his body suddenly convulsed the instant the fruit settled in his stomach.
Bones.
Muscles.
Blood.
It was as if countless fine tremors were ripping through him, every nerve vibrating at terrifying frequency.
His vision warped. The ground surged like waves. Even the air itself trembled unnaturally.
Bzzz—
Suddenly, the world fell into an eerie silence.
Gern's pupils contracted sharply.
He could feel it clearly—his body was disappearing.
No—
Not disappearing.
It was transforming into something more fundamental.
And more than that… he could create and control these things—
Vibrational particles.
Realizing this, Gern immediately looked down.
Under the control of his thoughts, his arm became semi-transparent, quivering faintly, as if composed of countless microscopic vibrations.
Heart pounding, he clenched his fist.
BOOM!!
An invisible shockwave erupted.
The air ahead shattered like glass. A fan-shaped blast tore forward, instantly pulverizing every tree within ten meters into dust.
"Th-This is… Tremor?!"
Gern stared at his palm in disbelief. "No—wait!!"
He could feel it clearly.
He wasn't using any medium.
At this very moment, he himself was the source of vibration—the embodiment of all trembling between heaven and earth.
With a thought, his entire body transformed into an intangible shockwave, passing straight through shattered tree trunks.
As expected of elemental transformation—his body reassembled intact on the other side.
"Logia-type elementalization… no doubt about it! This is Logia!!"
Ecstasy surged through him—then froze.
"Wait… wasn't the Tremor-Tremor Fruit a Paramecia?!
So why the hell did I turn into a Logia after eating it?!"
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