Deep within the island's heart, ancient trees towered overhead, some so colossal it was impossible to tell if they'd been growing for centuries or millennia. Their canopies blanketed the sky, casting the forest in perpetual twilight. Beneath their shadowed limbs, wild undergrowth flourished, thorns sprawled like brambles of wire, and dead leaves blanketed the ground. Old vines and weeds coiled across the forest floor so thickly that even a venomous snake, or a massive python, could hide in wait, undetected.
The air was thick—damp, sweltering. Towering trees locked out the sun. Ferocious beasts prowled the underbrush. Strange flora sprung from every corner, each more bizarre than the last.
Without warning, a visible shockwave of air exploded outward. A translucent burst of pale white force roared through the forest, toppling massive trees in its wake. Dust surged like storm clouds, and a trench—deep and jagged—ripped across the ground for over ten meters.
At the end of that trench stood a hulking black beast, at least as tall as a three-story building. Four limbs, jet-black fur, a savage expression, and a mouth full of fangs—it resembled a gorilla, though grotesquely scaled up.
Or... perhaps a Kong.
But this so-called Kong was soaked in blood, its body carved open by deep, gaping wounds. Any ordinary beast would've collapsed long ago from such injuries—if not dead, then clinging desperately to life. But this one...
The Kong let out a deafening roar, forcing itself upright. Yet it didn't charge. It hesitated—eyes locked forward, warily fixated on something unseen.
Click. Click. Footsteps echoed from the forest.
A small figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
A barefoot boy, no taller than 165 cm. Lean and wiry, dark-skinned, not much to look at. No striking features. Nothing particularly handsome. Just... ordinary. But his grin was wide, his eyes sharp and full of sunlit mischief. He wore a sleeveless outfit made from beast pelts.
The boy squinted at the beast, flashing a toothy grin.
"Hey, big guy. You've slipped away from me way too many times. Let's see you run now."
The Kong likely didn't understand his words—but instinct screamed danger. This human was not to be taken lightly.
It thundered forward, each step shaking the ground. As it charged, it snatched up a massive broken tree limb—two meters long, nearly a meter thick—and hurled it with terrifying force.
The giant log ripped through the air, howling with the wind.
"Still that strong, huh? Soru!"
The log smashed into the earth with earthshaking weight, gouging out a crater on impact. Wood splintered into fragments, scattering like shrapnel.
That's right. What the boy used was none other than Soru, one of the Rokushiki techniques from the Navy. By stamping the ground ten or more times in a fraction of a second, he used the recoil to launch himself at explosive speed.
The Kong panicked, its eyes darting in all directions.
"Secret Technique—Divine Spiral!"
A voice rang out beneath it.
In a blink, the boy reappeared—right under the beast. He clenched his fists, left over right, palms inward, and drove them upward into the creature's gut.
Before the Kong could even react, its massive stomach caved in around the blow's impact point. The surrounding air rippled like a bomb had gone off.
A beast the size of a building was sent flying.
It soared through the air, smashed through four or five ancient trees, then slammed into the ground, rolling across earth and foliage alike. It tumbled for nearly twenty meters before finally lying still.
No visible wounds. But inside—its organs had been turned to pulp.
The boy caught his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. Staring at the motionless body, he grinned wide.
"Haha! Nailed it! A full-fledged secret technique—man, I'm a genius!"
Still beaming, he dragged the corpse away.
That night, the moon hung high above a seaside cliff. At the cliff's edge stood a wooden cabin.
The boy had already skinned the beast and butchered its carcass, hanging the cleaned remains on racks outside. Thick slabs of golden-brown meat sizzled over an open flame, filling the air with mouthwatering aroma.
"Today marks the tenth year since I came to this world," he said, stepping inside and pulling out a wooden barrel. As he opened the lid, the scent of aged liquor wafted out. He took a deep breath, blissful.
"Definitely a day worth celebrating."
He raised the barrel and drank straight from it.
This boy was Mark, the same youth from ten years ago.
After eating a Devil Fruit, Mark had chosen this remote cliffside to develop his powers. Bit by bit, he'd hauled salvaged supplies from the ship to build a life here. Food had been scarce. But one stroke of luck was the five barrels of fine liquor hidden in the captain's cabin. With the one in hand, only one remained. Alongside it were a few serviceable blades, axes, and a single intact flintlock pistol, with fewer than twenty bullets. But for young, powerless Mark back then, it was enough to survive.
Using timber from the wrecked ship, he slowly constructed this wooden cabin. And from then on—every day—he trained without fail. He knew all too well: Devil Fruit powers consumed stamina. Without a strong body, he was doomed.
Take Borar Tori, captain of the Black Rhino Pirates—a Zoan-type user of the Ox-Ox Fruit: Rhino Model. He mastered all three forms of Haki—Observation, Armament, and Conqueror's—and had awakened his fruit. That was why he could stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Whitebeard and Golden Lion, even escape from them repeatedly. A force strong enough to be hunted by someone like Garp—he wasn't inferior to the later Warlords like Donquixote Doflamingo.
Fortunately, Tori's journals had survived. They contained invaluable notes on developing Devil Fruit powers, combat training, and the Rokushiki techniques—specifically Soru, Geppo, and Rankyaku—along with Haki cultivation methods.
While much of the Devil Fruit advice didn't apply (Tori's was Zoan, Mark's was Paramecia), the rest proved priceless.
Ten years of relentless training had made Mark more than human. On Earth, he'd be called a superman. Combined with his powers? He was strong. At the very least, not any weaker than Luffy when he first set out to sea.
Of the Rokushiki trio, Soru and Rankyaku were now second nature. Geppo, though? Still shaky—he could barely stay airborne for five meters.
Mark trained barefoot to attune himself to Observation Haki, sensing shifts in the ground and his surroundings. His range? Roughly 100 meters.
"Cough... not even close," he'd admit. Not even at the starting point—he hadn't managed to activate it at all.
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