"The merciless rain, it falls and falls without end; soaking my body through, breaking my heart in two. Your words are like icy rain, falling deep into my soul..."
Humming a wildly off-key, melancholic tune, Darian sat bored in the crow's nest. Bathed in the pale moonlight, he gazed out at the relatively calm surface of the Grand Line.
Standing watch at night was truly an arduous ordeal. However, with the ship navigating the notoriously fickle weather of the Grand Line—and with Baroque Works assassins and pirates everywhere—going without a night watch was simply not an option.
His entire crew consisted of women. For the sake of their beauty sleep, their complexions, and their general well-being, Darian found it impossible to ask them to pull the graveyard shifts. Consequently, the grueling labor of the night watch fell squarely upon his own shoulders.
If he were to recruit a massive, traditional pirate crew, then as the captain, Darian naturally wouldn't have to bother with menial tasks like standing watch. However, since he refused to plunder innocent civilians, where would he find the funds to feed and pay a small army?
As things stood, Darian only needed to occasionally raid a pirate ship—delivering 'justice' on behalf of the heavens—to acquire enough resources to sustain the women aboard this small sloop.
One could only say that while large pirate armadas had their advantages, a small, elite crew offered a unique sense of peace and intimacy.
Although standing watch was undeniably tedious, Darian wasn't entirely idle.
Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!
Arcs of blue-white electricity occasionally crackled and sparked from Darian's palms. Floating an inch above the center of his right palm, a swirling mass of black iron sand spun at high velocity. It emitted a low, dangerous hum that sounded much like a swarm of angry bees.
Under his precise magnetic control, the iron sand shifted and transformed—at one moment coalescing into a dense, perfect sphere, and at the next morphing into a razor-sharp, vibrating blade.
It had been nearly a month since he arrived in this world, yet Darian realized he hadn't actually engaged in any serious, structured combat training. After consuming his Devil Fruit, he gained immense passive power; subsequently, through his "Dual Cultivation" sessions with Nami, Kaya, and Nojiko, his baseline physical strength and stamina underwent massive, effortless boosts.
Although gaining power through sex was effortless—and undeniably pleasurable—Darian's rational side was beginning to sound an alarm. Indulging in lewdness is fine, but I absolutely cannot neglect actual combat training.
When facing threats such as seawater, Seastone, advanced Haki, or Blackbeard's Dark-Dark Fruit—all of which serve as natural counters to Devil Fruit abilities—what good would his fruit do him if his base body wasn't forged in iron?
Even more critically, observations over the past few weeks revealed a glaring flaw: his sub-abilities, like Vibration and Electricity, hadn't seen any substantial improvement through "Dual Cultivation" alone.
It truly seemed that the sexual cultivation was the core essence of the Outer Path, while the sub-abilities (vibration, electrical shock, lubrication, and silicone manipulation) were merely supplementary effects originally intended to enhance physical pleasure, not level entire islands.
However, Darian wasn't discouraged. He understood that his existing abilities, even if intended for the bedroom, were already formidable if applied correctly.
If Doflamingo could take the String-String Fruit—essentially a power meant for knitting sweaters—and develop it to the point of cutting meteorites in half and flying, Darian refused to believe that he, a modern man who had consumed decades of anime, sci-fi, and internet theory-crafting, couldn't weaponize his fruit just as well.
To enumerate his arsenal: Dual Cultivation served as the core multiplier. The supplementary powers included vibration, electrical shock, lubrication, a "Silicone Body," and energy absorption. Furthermore, the Silicone Body—aside from being freely malleable and elastic—possessed the added effect of active camouflage (invisibility).
Among these, lubrication, energy absorption, and invisibility functioned as utility and defense. The powers capable of being channeled into raw offensive force were vibration, electrical shock, and the kinetic elasticity of the silicone body.
Even if he developed his silicone elasticity to its absolute limit, it could never hope to rival the cartoonish, reality-bending caliber of Luffy's Nika Fruit. Thus, there was no point in devoting excessive effort to becoming a bouncy brawler.
Darian's primary focus for offensive training would remain squarely on mastering Vibration and Electricity.
The ultimate expression of vibration is resonance. If his abilities could be honed to such a degree that he could match the natural frequency of an object—be it a ship, a building, or a human skull—even a seemingly feeble tap could unleash immense, shattering destructive power.
As for electrical abilities—setting aside the inherent destructive force of a lightning bolt—the byproduct of this power, electromagnetism, constituted a terrifying force in its own right.
When it came to the practical application of electromagnetism, Darian didn't have to rack his brains much at all. A certain "Railgun Princess" from a famous anime had already done all the conceptual heavy lifting for him.
Under Darian's manipulation, the iron sand transformed again. It coalesced into a high-speed, vibrating sphere resembling a Rasengan, possessing potent cutting capabilities. Then, he flattened it, morphing the iron sand into a swirling blade that functioned like a motorized chainsaw.
Furthermore, the "Super Electromagnetic Cannon" (Railgun) remained the ultimate objective toward which Darian was currently striving.
Unlike the abilities of the anime Railgun Princess—which demanded extensive, on-the-fly mental calculations involving complex physics formulas—Devil Fruit powers operated more akin to a manifestation of willpower. As long as one could visualize the desired effect and understand the basic concept, the Devil Fruit bridged the gap. Strict adherence to the laws of thermodynamics was largely unnecessary in the One Piece world.
After all, it defied all scientific logic that Doflamingo could use his strings to tether himself to clouds to fly, considering clouds are nothing more than non-solid water vapor. (Though, tangible "Sea Clouds" did exist in this world, they weren't everywhere).
All in all, the true potential of a Devil Fruit was limited only by the user's imagination.
And so, through Darian's experimentation, the iron sand held in his hand—guided by electromagnetic fields—began to vibrate at an incredibly high frequency.
He infused the power of pure vibration into the mix, pushing the oscillation to dangerous extremes.
Despite the fact that Darian had specifically purchased this high-quality iron sand in Loguetown, the grains in his hand were now rubbing against one another with such intense friction that they began to glow red-hot, showing signs of melting.
I still don't understand how Misaka Mikoto managed to pull massive quantities of iron sand out of normal dirt, Darian thought, canceling the technique and letting the cooling sand fall back into his pouch. Aside from certain riverbeds, ordinary soil doesn't contain enough iron to make a sword. Otherwise, I wouldn't have needed to buy this stuff.
He shook his head. He had set out to engage in physical training, yet here he was, having once again fallen back into the comfortable routine of tweaking his Devil Fruit abilities from a seated position.
Amidst Darian's various musings and his repeated rounds of magnetic experimentation, dawn slowly broke over the Grand Line.
The Devil Fruit had fundamentally altered Darian's constitution. Thanks to the Hungry Ghost Path, he bore a resemblance to Blackbeard, capable of going almost entirely without sleep. Provided he absorbed a sufficient amount of ambient energy (like sunlight), Darian could remain awake for extended periods without suffering physical fatigue. Truly, a cheat code for productivity!
Of course, barring any exceptional circumstances, Darian wouldn't deliberately force himself to forgo sleep permanently. While his body didn't need it, going without sleep for too long led to an excessive buildup of mental strain, which could eventually cause cognitive impairment. The brain still needed to dream and process.
As the sun rose above the horizon, casting its warm rays upon him, Darian felt his energy reserves rapidly replenish. His mind, which had begun to feel a touch groggy, quickly regained its full, razor-sharp alertness.
He had vowed to train his body, and train he would.
He climbed down from the crow's nest and stripped off his shirt. Out on the main deck, Darian commenced his morning workout routine.
He began by trying to run through two forms he had learned years ago in a university martial arts elective—Baji Quan and Tai Chi—though he quickly realized he had forgotten the finer details of both styles, looking more like he was swatting at invisible bees.
Training in the world of One Piece was, thankfully, a remarkably simple affair: it boiled down to building raw muscle and breaking past limits.
As for how to go about doing that—Darian had never received formal instruction in physical conditioning. Consequently, the only method for extreme muscle training that came to mind was the classic "Saitama" or "Turtle School" regimen.
"Damn it, how am I supposed to train? Screw it—I'll just do the basics!" Darian muttered to himself, shaking out his arms. "Straight punches, kicks, push-ups, squats, sit-ups... I'll do a thousand reps of each to build muscle memory. I'll start with the straight punches!"
Given Darian's current physical constitution—which had already surpassed the limits of ordinary humans—completing a few thousand reps without added weights posed no threat of injury, but it would build the endurance he needed.
He planted his feet in a horse stance.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
"One! Two! Three!" Darian shouted, throwing his fists with explosive speed, the air cracking like a whip with each extension.
"68... 134... 289... 687..."
There on the deck, under the morning sun, Darian began his very first session of genuine, grueling physical training.
As the sun climbed higher, the young women on board slowly began to wake up.
The earliest riser, naturally, was Carmen.
As the ship's cook, responsible for feeding a crew of six every single day, hers was a demanding job. Of course, Carmen was driven by a deep, fiery passion for culinary arts; seeing others find joy in eating her meals was a reward in itself.
Back when it was just Darian and Nami living together, the sloop hadn't felt cramped at all. But now that the crew had tripled in size, even Darian felt that the Little Fish was starting to feel a bit too small.
Princess Vivi had shared a cabin with Carmen the previous night. So, when the chef rose to start the fires, Vivi naturally woke up as well.
Plagued by anxiety over the safety of Alabasta, Vivi hadn't slept soundly in the slightest. She found herself wishing the little ship would just fly through the air, carrying them back to the desert as quickly as possible.
After washing her face in the small restroom, Vivi stepped out onto the main deck.
Seeing Darian there—bare-chested, drenched in sweat, and huffing as he executed rapid-fire, one-armed push-ups—Vivi couldn't help but feel her cheeks flush slightly. His physique, sculpted by the Devil Fruit and now glistening with exertion, was undeniably impressive.
"Mr. Darian! Good morning!" Vivi greeted him, feeling a touch of awkwardness.
"988... 989... 990..."
Darian, who was in the midst of huffing out his count, heard someone call his name. Already feeling the burn in his triceps, he turned his head. Seeing that it was Vivi, he pushed himself up. "Morning, Your Highness!"
At his formal address, Vivi smiled with a hint of bashfulness. "You can just call me Vivi. We're crewmates now."
Having shed the flashy, punk-rock "Miss Wednesday" getup she wore yesterday in favor of a simple blouse and skirt she had borrowed from Nami, Vivi finally exuded the dignified, gentle aura befitting a true princess.
Step... step... step...
The sound of heels clicking against the wooden deck announced the arrival of another person. Darian looked over to see Robin emerging from the lower cabins.
Robin lived a highly regimented life. Barring any exceptional circumstances (like assassinations or fleeing the Marines), she typically went to bed at 11:00 PM and rose exactly at 6:00 AM. Thus, it was entirely normal for her to be the third person up.
Robin, too, had been forced to change out of her combat gear and into a set of Nami's clothes. The change transformed her entire demeanor. She now radiated the gentle warmth of a beautiful scholar, a stark contrast to the cool, aloof allure of the "gangster boss's woman" she had projected the day before.
However, Nami's clothes were a tad too small for the 188-centimeter-tall Robin. The fabric of the blouse stretched taut across her ample chest, and the skirt hugged her wide hips a bit too snugly, highlighting her spectacular curves.
Upon seeing Robin, Vivi—though feeling a sharp twinge of displeasure and lingering distrust toward Crocodile's partner—still greeted her with royal politeness. "Good morning, Miss Robin."
Robin paid no mind to the hostility she saw in Vivi's eyes. Wearing a pleasant, enigmatic smile, she responded with a soft-spoken reply. "Good morning to you as well, Princess."
Noticing Darian panting on the deck, covered in sweat, Robin raised an elegant eyebrow. "My, I didn't expect to see this. You're actually quite diligent, Captain."
At Robin's remark, Darian—who had just finished a thousand punches, a thousand kicks, and was burning through his push-ups—couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious under her scrutinizing gaze.
"Just trying to keep the rust off," Darian replied awkwardly, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. "The Grand Line doesn't forgive weakness."
Before long, Nami, Miss Valentine, and Alvida began to trickle out onto the deck, drawn by the smell of Carmen's cooking and the morning air.
Suddenly surrounded by a crowd of five beautiful women—all of whom were standing around, chatting, and occasionally glancing at his bare chest—Darian felt so incredibly self-conscious that he could barely bring himself to finish his squats.
Building an empire is hard work, Darian thought, sighing as he dropped back into a horse stance. But the view isn't bad.
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