Night fell over Marine Branch 133 of the West Blue, the dormitory building wrapped in silence.
After being promoted to sergeant, Gern finally had a private room of his own.
He sat quietly by the window. Silver moonlight spilled through the glass and onto the desk, illuminating the black blade wrapped layer upon layer in white bandages—Eight Desolations.
"One of the Twelve Supreme Grade Swords…" Gern murmured. He raised his left hand slightly as trembling particles gathered in the air, condensing into an invisible vibration.
"And paired with a Logia-type Heaven-Shaking Fruit…" His gaze settled on the blade, deep and unreadable.
With his current status and strength, this sword could not be revealed lightly.
After all, it had once belonged to Rocks.
Until he possessed enough power, caution was mandatory.
Gern was keenly aware of his situation.
No system. No cheat. Every step was like walking on thin ice.
That was why his plan going forward was perfectly clear.
Fully develop the Heaven-Shaking Fruit and increase his combat power.
Purge pirates in the West Blue and accumulate military merit and reputation.
Use the passage of time to reconstruct the origin of his Devil Fruit.
Blur "gains from God Valley" into "a chance acquisition in the West Blue" to avoid unnecessary trouble.
Most importantly, corruption was rampant throughout the West Blue branches. In this era, it was known as the Marines' "place of exile."
He had to escape this marginalized position and return to Marine Headquarters.
Only then would he gain access to learning Haki. The favorable impression he had left with Zephyr would become a crucial bargaining chip for the future.
"Rocks' era is over. What comes next…" After a long while, Gern exhaled deeply and looked up at the night sky, moonlight reflecting in his pupils.
"…will be the legendary era of three pillars—Whitebeard, Roger, and Shiki."
No shortcuts. No external help.
Gern withdrew his gaze and gently rested his fingers on Eight Desolations. The power of vibration flowed steadily through his palm.
"Every step from here on out must be calculated."
...
Time passed in the blink of an eye.
One year later, Sea Circle Calendar 1485.
West Blue waters, aboard a pirate ship.
On the deck, barrels rolled about as the smell of roasted meat mixed with cheap rum. Pirates raised their mugs and laughed wildly, celebrating another successful raid.
"Hahahaha! Some Marine branch my ass—not even a shadow of them!"
"As long as you pay those idiots enough, they'll pretend they didn't see a thing!"
Captain Hawk of the Golden Blade Pirates laughed with his mouth wide open, his gold tooth gleaming with greasy light in the fire glow.
"The West Blue is my territory!"
"Damn right! Those trash Marines aren't even fit to lick our boots!" the lackeys shouted in agreement, drinking themselves senseless.
But just as the revelry reached its peak—
"Don't you think you're celebrating a little too early?"
A cold voice suddenly rang out, sharp as a blade, slicing straight through the noise.
The pirates froze and turned toward the sound.
Perched atop the ship's cross mast was a tall figure, crouched lightly.
The glaring sunlight outlined his shadowed silhouette. A long blade wrapped in white bandages was slung diagonally across his back.
"Who's there?!" Captain Hawk barked, most of the alcohol draining from his head.
A sharp-eyed pirate suddenly widened his eyes, his voice trembling.
"T-that sword… the white bandages…"
"Could it be… 'Pirate Hunter' Gern?!"
Dead silence.
The name exploded across the deck like a bomb.
The smiles on the Golden Blade Pirates' faces froze solid.
"Don't joke around…" Cold sweat trickled down Hawk's forehead as he forced a vicious grin.
"That Marine monster who wiped out fifteen pirate crews single-handedly in one year—how could he come after us?!"
"Pirate Hunter…" Gern covered his face.
This wasn't the Great Pirate Era yet. The title "Pirate Hunter" shouldn't even exist.
And yet somehow, it had been pinned onto him.
"Isn't it normal for Marines to catch pirates?" he muttered. "Why does that make me a hunter?"
Hearing this, Hawk swallowed hard and drew his massive curved blade.
"Damn it! We're the famous Golden Blade Pirates of the West Blue!"
"I've got a bounty of twenty-three million Beli!"
"He's alone! Get him, all of you!"
Bang bang bang.
Gunfire erupted across the deck as dozens of lead bullets tore through the air toward the figure on the mast.
Gern smiled faintly as his form blurred amid the storm of bullets.
The shots pierced his chest, brow, and throat, yet passed through him like illusions, leaving only rings of transparent vibration rippling through the air.
"A… a Logia?!" Hawk's gold tooth rattled audibly.
"Hey! Are you kidding me?! How could the West Blue possibly have—"
Before he could finish, Gern slowly rose to his feet.
The instant his foot stepped down, a high-density vibration track formed beneath it.
Using the reverse shockwave of the vibration particles, his body vanished.
"Vibration Shift · Slide Rail."
Buzz.
A piercing sonic boom ripped through the sea breeze.
The pirates saw only twisted, transparent tracks appear in the air—then, like waves split apart by an invisible blade, the shockwave from the sonic blast flung pirates on both sides into the air.
"Where did he go?!" Hawk barely raised his blade when an icy sensation crept up behind him.
"Sorry. Time to carry out 'vibrational justice.'"
"Bounty: twenty-three million Beli. 'Gold Tooth' Hawk." Gern spoke calmly. "I'll be taking your head."
Before the words faded, a compressed white vibration—dense as a collapsing star—was already pressed against Hawk's temple from Gern's raised left leg.
Crack.
The sweeping impact detonated with a dull thud and a glass-shattering snap.
Hawk's pupils exploded outward.
In his final sight, the surrounding air fractured into spiderweb-like cracks, as if space itself had been shattered.
Pff.
His head twisted violently as blood mixed with pulverized organs sprayed from his mouth. He dropped to his knees.
Though the attack had struck his head, his entire body had already been crushed into mush by the vibrations.
The deck fell into absolute silence.
The remaining pirates stood frozen, their weapons clattering to the floor.
"Captain Hawk… twenty-three million Beli… beaten in one move…"
They stared at that retreating figure in horror.
Gern slowly lowered his raised leg. The vibration particles around it hadn't even dispersed yet.
"M-monster…" One pirate collapsed, foul liquid spreading from his trousers.
"Tch. A technique copied from Kizaru's light-speed kick still isn't perfect," Gern muttered.
"It can achieve short-range, straight-line sonic movement… but it's still far from moving freely like true 'light.'"
As he spoke, he lifted Hawk's cooling corpse with his left hand. His right palm turned upward as a pure white sphere of vibration particles quietly formed.
"But… this is more than enough."
He hurled the sphere into the air.
"Vibration Step · Sky Tread."
Boom.
The compressed vibration detonated at the moment of contact, the shockwave exploding outward in a ring as Gern launched himself into the air.
Below him, violent vibrations rippled outward.
Planks, masts, cannons—everything they touched collapsed into dust in an instant.
The pirates' screams never even had time to escape.
The entire ship crumbled like a fragile glass ornament, shattered wreckage swallowed by the surging sea.
High above, Gern's figure had already leapt away.
Shockwaves burst beneath his feet one after another, the air twisting and trembling with each step, as though invisible stairs were carrying him swiftly into the distance.