Little Garden, Grand Line
The jungle canopy above shimmered in a faint emerald hue, sunlight piercing through the thick foliage like shards of glass. The air was humid, heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth—but beneath it all lingered something wrong. A faint, acrid tang. The smell of sickness.
Dr. Kureha knelt before a towering plant whose broad leaves were marred by blotches of dull green and pale, blistering patches. Her aged yet pristine fingers, still unnervingly steady despite her age, glowed faintly with the soft luminescence of her medical gloves clad with armament haki. With practiced care, she brushed the edge of one diseased leaf. The texture beneath her touch was brittle, unnatural.
"Oh… fascinating," she murmured, her voice carrying the amused intrigue of a scientist uncovering an ancient secret. "It's the Tree Fever… I thought the traces of this ailment had vanished centuries ago. To think its spores still survive — thriving here, on this forgotten island."
The old doctor's eyes gleamed like polished amber, sharp and knowing. Around her, the vegetation told a story few could read — entire clusters of plants blighted, their once-vibrant colors muted and dull, spreading like slow rot across the jungle floor.
Robin stepped forward, curiosity shining in her eyes, but Kureha's tone snapped like a whip.
"Don't touch it, child."
Robin froze mid-step.
"It's highly contagious," Kureha warned, her sharp gaze slicing toward her. "Even the spores in the air can infect through open pores. This isn't just a disease — it's nature's way of culling the careless."
Nearby, young Law crouched low, his notebook already open. His eyes darted from one plant to another as he sketched feverishly, his small hands scribbling observations that only barely kept pace with his mind.
"Kureha-san," Robin said softly after a pause, her scholar's voice filled with awe as she recalled the name from many documents from her time in Ohara and in the Donquixote family's library, "is this the same Tree Fever that once swept through the first half of the Grand Line… the one described in many books…? The same plague that took millions of lives more than 4 centuries ago...?"
Kureha turned to her, and for a brief moment, the fierce glint in her eyes softened into something almost tender.
"You certainly know your history," she said with a wry smile. "Yes — this is the very same plague. Though calling it a 'disease' would be an understatement. This thing was a cataclysm."
Her tone darkened as she retrieved a small vial from her satchel, the glass catching a sliver of sunlight as she scraped a sample from the infected leaf with a delicate scalpel.
"Tree Fever was a plague that jumped freely between plant and beast," she continued. "Back then, before the cure to it was found. Once it infected humans, the mortality rate was over ninety percent. Villages vanished overnight. Forests died screaming. Even the seas carried its spores for miles."
Robin's expression grew solemn, the weight of history hanging in her eyes.
Law, however, tilted his head, confusion lacing his young face. "But… Master," he said, glancing around, "you said this Tree Fever spreads easily. If it's that contagious, why hasn't it consumed the whole forest?"
Kureha chuckled — low and raspy, like gravel grinding against stone — as she sealed the vial and tucked it back into her bag.
"Nature," she said, straightening to her full height, "is both the cruelest killer and the most brilliant healer. She never strikes without leaving a way to balance the scales."
She began walking toward the perimeter of the infected grove, where the diseased foliage abruptly gave way to towering trees with sleek, pale trunks and glistening green leaves. They formed a ring, enclosing the sickly plants like silent sentinels.
Kureha tapped one of the trunks with the butt of her scalpel. The sound that echoed back was deep and hollow.
"Tell me, Law," she asked, her tone almost playful, "what tree is this?"
Law squinted, examining the long, thin leaves and the faint sheen of sap trickling from a small cut in the bark. After a moment, his face brightened with realization.
"That's… a Kona tree, Master."
Kureha grinned, baring a row of sharp teeth. "Sharp as ever, brat. Yes — the Kona tree. Though this one's far larger than the kind you'd find in any islands of the Grand Line or the South Blue… Must be the island's influence. But the interesting part isn't its size."
Her voice softened as she placed a palm against the bark.
"The cure for Tree Fever comes from this tree. A compound called Conine, found in its bark, suppresses the infection entirely. That's why the plague hasn't spread — these trees act like guardians, forming a natural quarantine. As long as no fool eats the infected plants, the fever remains trapped here."
Robin's eyes widened. "So the forest itself… is containing the plague?"
Kureha nodded. "Precisely. The world doesn't need men to fix it — it heals itself in ways we can barely comprehend."
Law frowned thoughtfully. "But what about the herbivores? What if they eat the infected plants?"
The old witch let out another gravelly chuckle. "Do you think the beasts that've survived on Little Garden for a hundred million years are stupid, boy? Instinct runs deeper than reason. They've learned that the bark of these trees is a cure. Animals don't write books, but they remember."
Her tone grew distant, almost nostalgic, as she brushed her hand against the bark once more.
"Funny thing is," she said quietly, "Mont Blanc Noland — that so-called 'Liar' — discovered the cure the same way. He saw a dying beast gnawing on the bark and watched it recover. Observation, intuition, respect for nature — that's what true science is."
Law blinked, taken aback. "You mean the Noland? The one who was executed for lying about the City of Gold?"
Kureha's expression hardened. Her eyes — sharp and ancient — gleamed beneath the jungle light.
"Yes, the same man. The world called him a liar, but in truth, he was one of the greatest botanists who ever lived. His research on medicinal flora laid the foundation for half of modern pharmacology. That great tome of rare herbs we use back at home? Written by him. But when he was branded a criminal, the royal family of Lvneel stole his work — erased his name from history while taking credit for all his works."
She turned her gaze toward the jungle canopy, her voice lowering to a murmur that carried the weight of centuries.
"That's the curse of this world, little ones. The ignorant mock the wise. The brilliant die nameless. And the truth…" She smiled bitterly, her eyes glinting like steel. "The truth always rots quietly under the leaves."
A silence followed — only the faint rustle of trees, and the distant cry of some ancient beast. Then Kureha exhaled and hoisted her satchel over her shoulder. "Come, brats. We've lingered long enough. This forest remembers too much."
As she walked ahead, the diseased grove behind them seemed to sigh — leaves trembling as if the earth itself recognized the departure of one of its oldest students.
Soon, Kureha and the others returned to the spot they had made their base camp — the hollowed remains of a giant's home, Brogy's home, carved from living stone and tangled roots. The jungle canopy above burned gold in the late afternoon sun, and the distant cries of prehistoric beasts echoed through the humid air.
Originally, Kureha's plan had been simple: spend a week on Little Garden, collect a few rare herbs, and return to Drum Island before the snows buried her clinic again. But after only a few days, the legendary doctor realized the island was nothing short of a miracle.
Everywhere she looked, life thrived in impossible forms — ancient flora that defied time, creatures thought extinct for centuries, and even natural springs rich in minerals unknown to modern science. For Kureha, this island wasn't just a jungle — it was a living archive of evolution, a paradise for discovery.
And so, one week turned to two… then a month. Every sunrise revealed something new. But paradise had its price. As they neared the base camp, the ground suddenly shuddered, a deep tremor rippling through the soil like the heartbeat of some ancient beast. Trees rattled, birds scattered into the sky, and a low rumble echoed from beyond the valley.
Kureha froze mid-step, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Again?" she hissed under her breath, irritation flaring.
Robin, walking beside her, gave a knowing sigh. "Kureha-san… it seems they're at it again," she said dryly, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Kureha's brows twitched. "Those damn maniacs…" she growled. "As if two weren't enough, that blasted brat's joined them now!"
The old doctor cracked her knuckles and rolled up her sleeves, her grin wicked and full of fire. "Fine. If they want chaos, I'll give them something to scream about!"
Law knew better than to interfere — when Kureha got that look in her eyes, even the Grim Reaper would step aside. A thunderous boom split the air, followed by a shockwave that flattened nearby trees. The entire island rumbled as a colossal shape crashed into the side of one of Little Garden's many volcanoes.
The ground split. Molten rock spilled from the mountainside like a river of fire. From the inferno rose a massive crimson serpentine creature, scales shimmering like rubies under the molten glow. The dragon reared back, letting out a roar that shook the heavens. Lava poured over its body, but instead of retreating, it lunged forward, jaws snapping at its giant-sized foes.
Across the clearing stood Dorry and Brogy, the two warrior giants of Elbaf, each laughing with booming voices that rolled like thunder. Their weapons gleamed, their laughter wild and joyful — the laughter of giants who lived for battle.
Since Kureha's arrival, she had forbidden them to fight each other, citing her medical research and their promise to let her work in peace. Reluctantly, the giants had agreed, thinking it a temporary truce — a few days, perhaps a week at worst. But as days turned to weeks, their warrior blood began to boil with restlessness.
And then they found a loophole. They had sworn not to fight each other — but no one had said anything about fighting someone else. When they discovered the monstrous strength of the young teen traveling with Kureha—Rob Lucci, the stoic prodigy of the Donquixote family with eyes like a predator—their restraint snapped.
And when they learned he could transform into a dragon, it became inevitable. Day after day, their sparring sessions grew more intense, their laughter louder, their clashes stronger. Trees toppled, craters formed, and half the island's wildlife had fled to the farthest shores.
Now, as Kureha and her group approached, the battle had reached apocalyptic levels. Dorry swung his axe, carving a shockwave through the jungle, while Brogy charged forward, shaking the ground with every step. The crimson dragon roared, coiling through the smoke, his massive serpentine tail slicing the air like blades.
A blast of fire met the crash of steel — an explosion of light and fury that turned the sky orange and red. Kureha planted her hands on her hips, watching the chaos unfold with a twitching vein on her forehead.
"Those idiots…" she muttered, a smirk slowly replacing her scowl. "Guess I raised hell on this island after all by bringing that kid here. Well, at least they are sticking to their promise..."
"Kababababa! This is far more fun than fighting each other, don't you think, Dorry?!"
Brogy bellowed, his voice booming like rolling thunder across the jungle. He raised his colossal axe — its edge gleaming with the dark shimmer of Armament Haki — and brought it down with terrifying force.
The swing carved the very air apart. A massive flying slash, wrapped in violent ripples of energy, screamed through the sky toward the crimson dragon before them — a beast so enormous that even the warrior giants of Elbaf looked like children in its shadow.
"Gyagagagagaga! So that's your excuse, Brogy?!" Dorry roared back with laughter, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "Don't tell me you're ready to admit defeat and confess my catch was the larger one after all!"
With a mighty step that cracked the ground beneath his feet, Dorry swung his own blade horizontally — a sweep so broad and forceful that it seemed to split the horizon itself.
"Kabababa! In your dreams, Dorry — in your dreams!"
Their laughter mingled with the storm of destruction. Their strikes weren't mere swings — they were forces of nature, roaring with the will of warriors who had fought for centuries. Two blades of compressed wind and Haki — each capable of cleaving an island in half — tore through the skies toward their target.
But their opponent was no ordinary creature.
The crimson dragon — Lucci — reared back, his serpentine body coiling with raw power. His scales glimmered like molten ruby, his slit eyes glowing gold beneath the smoke and fire. Despite the wounds that scarred his length, the air around him pulsed with unyielding dominance.
Lucci wasn't just a dragon. He was a weapon sharpened by monsters — forged under the eye of Donquixote Rosinante himself. Every muscle, every instinct in him screamed precision and control.
As the twin slashes howled toward him, the dragon's body darkened — his entire form cloaked in the jet-black sheen of Armament Haki. The air trembled as he twisted his massive tail, each scale grinding against the atmosphere like the teeth of a saw.
Then — the world exploded. With a thunderous roar, the dragon swung his Haki-clad tail in a wide arc, the force alone splitting clouds. The motion unleashed a Rankyaku of unimaginable scale — a crescent of pure compressed air so vast it could bisect a mountain range.
The three attacks met midair.
For a single heartbeat, time froze. Then — impact.
A detonation of light and sound consumed the sky. The collision unleashed a shockwave that shattered the clouds and sent gales screaming across the island. Trees hundreds of feet tall were uprooted and hurled through the air like twigs. The heavens flashed white as Armament Haki sparks erupted in all directions, painting the battlefield in streaks of crimson, obsidian, and silver.
The ground cracked, molten veins glowing beneath the shattered surface. The entire island roared in protest. For a moment, it looked as though the three attacks had canceled each other out — but then the air itself began to wail.
Two of the energy slashes veered off-course, whistling past the island and streaking out to sea. A moment later, they hit the ocean. The result was cataclysmic. The sea split apart — not in waves, but in a trench of impossible depth that carved across the surface for miles. Water erupted skyward in pillars hundreds of meters tall as the twin slashes tore through the ocean like divine judgment, leaving a boiling scar across the horizon.
But one of the attacks — the third — remained.
The last Haki-charged wave smashed into the edge of Little Garden, slicing through the jungle with surgical precision. Trees that had stood tall for millennia — towering giants that had survived time, storms, and the wrath of dinosaurs — were cleaved cleanly in half.
A deafening crash followed as the forest's ancient titans toppled into the sea, their massive trunks creating tidal waves that battered the shoreline. Birds fled in terrified flocks, the sky above darkened by their shadows. When the smoke finally cleared, the once lush edge of the island was a ravaged cliff, its remains smoldering where the blades had passed.
"Rooooar…!"
The island itself trembled as Lucci's dragon form unleashed a roar that echoed through mountains and valleys alike. The very ground quaked beneath the sheer force of his fury, as if his transformation had amplified not just his power, but his primal aggression.
The crimson dragon reared, his serpentine form spanning like storm clouds, and energy began to swirl around his maw. Heat warped the air, molten sparks igniting as the power gathered.
"Bolo Breath…!"
A beam of incandescent energy erupted, tearing a canyon through the island's surface. Trees, rocks, and ancient soil were incinerated almost instantly. A plume of smoke and fire spiraled upward, painting the sky with red-orange devastation. The sheer force of the attack blew the nearby jungle into the air, leaving only a smoldering scar across the terrain.
Dorry and Brogy locked eyes. No words were needed; their battle-hardened intuition spoke volumes. Both knew the beast before them was beyond ordinary, but together, their combined might had toppled even the toughest threats of their age.
Without hesitation, they began to prime their attack.
Dorry stomped the ground, each footfall sending tremors that split the earth, while veins of Haki shimmered across his massive arms and blade. Brogy mirrored him, his own weapon glowing as if it were a living extension of his will. The air around them rippled and distorted with their combined Armament Haki, crackling like storm clouds ready to burst.
"Ikkoku Sovereignty…!"
A towering surge of energy shot from their weapons, converging into a single, gargantuan column of pure force. Haki-infused winds and energy waves spun around the two giants, amplifying the attack into a destructive whirlwind rivaling the dragon's own breath. The air howled with tension, the island trembling as if it anticipated the impending collision.
The two forces collided midair — Lucci's Bolo Breath crashing headlong into the twin might of the giants.
KRAAAAAAA-KOOM!
The impact was apocalyptic. The sky tore open, scattering clouds in all directions. The mountains groaned as shockwaves ripped through the land. Valleys quaked, and rivers boiled under the pressure. Even the distant volcanoes shivered at the force, lava spewing like fountains in protest.
For a moment, the beam of the dragon and the combined attack of the giants seemed evenly matched — a colossal stalemate of power and Haki. But the raw, disciplined synergy of Dorry and Brogy gradually began to overwhelm Lucci's raw energy. The giants moved as one, their combined willpower and experience compressing the Bolo Breath, pushing it back inch by inch.
Cracks raced along the ground as the dragon's energy began to falter. With a deafening screech, Lucci was forced backward, crashing violently into a nearby volcanic mountain. Rocks and molten stone erupted in every direction as the impact shattered the mountainside. Steam hissed from the fissures, lava gushed in boiling torrents, and the air shimmered with heat and fury.
The dragon's massive form began to shift, scales falling away, his massive form folding rapidly. The fearsome dragon slowly reverted to his hybrid form, claws still sharp, fangs bared, but now grounded — a testament to the overwhelming might of the two legendary giants.
Dorry and Brogy stood shoulder to shoulder, their breathing heavy but controlled. Their weapons were still raised, their Haki blazing like twin storms. Even now, the sheer presence of the giants radiated a power that few mortals, or monsters, could withstand.
Brogy let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "KABABABA… That's the power of the captains of the Giant Warrior Pirates! Monster or no, you don't get to challenge us lightly!"
Dorry's grin was equally wide, a spark of exhilaration in his eyes. "GYAGAGAGAGA… Even a dragon like him has to respect this!"
Yet, from the smoke and shattered mountain, Lucci's golden eyes glimmered. He shook off the debris, claws scraping against stone. His hybrid form bristled with restrained fury, muscles tensed, and every fiber of his being radiated lethal intent.
"I… am not finished yet," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
The two giants recognized the warning, their expressions hardening. They were warriors who had faced the strongest of foes, yet they knew that Lucci — disciplined, cunning, and armed with a Mythical Zoan — was far from defeated.
Before the three battle maniacs could launch into another round, the sky itself seemed to shudder. Clouds rolled in like a living, malevolent tide, swallowing the sun and turning day into a crimson-streaked night. Thunder rumbled across the mountains, and jagged bolts of red lightning split the heavens, illuminating the ruined landscape in eerie bursts.
The air thickened with a pressure so intense it made the hair on their arms stand on end. Every heartbeat of Little Garden seemed to falter as if the island itself had recognized the approaching storm.
Dorry and Brogy froze mid-laugh, weaponss suspended in the air, and even Lucci instinctively halted his breathing. The presence they felt was unlike anything they had ever encountered — not merely strong, but overwhelming, a tidal wave of Haoshoku Haki tearing through the sky itself.
The two giants exchanged a gulping glance. For the first time in nearly a century, a flicker of old memory resurfaced, and along with it, a bit of sanity returned to them, like drunken revelers suddenly realizing the tavern had been on fire the entire time. From the edge of the shattered clearing, a figure emerged.
The air warped around her. Shadows twisted unnaturally as waves of Conqueror's Haki radiated outward, bending light, splintering earth, and causing massive trees — trees so huge they could hold small islands in their branches — to tremble violently. Sparks of black lightning crackled around her mere presence, each one a miniature explosion that sent shards of bark flying like fireworks.
"You bastards… what do you think you're doing to my paradise…?"
Her voice cut through the storm like a blade forged from the heavens themselves. Kureha stepped forward, her movements deliberate and commanding. With every step, the ground beneath her cracked and splintered. Even the wind seemed to obey her will, swirling violently as if clearing a path for her righteous fury.
A wide, maniacal grin spread across her face. Her eyes gleamed with a wild, unrestrained energy, the sort of gleeful madness only a doctor who had lived a century could muster. The air hummed with divine menace, and the storm itself seemed to humble before her.
The once-chaotic battlefield — leveled forests, shattered mountains, and molten rivers — now trembled under her unstoppable aura. The devastation caused by the previous clash was only a prelude to the tidal wave of wrath she was about to unleash.
Dorry and Brogy scratched the backs of their heads nervously, trying to look casual — as if the destruction of her island had nothing to do with them. Their axes wavered uncertainly in the air.
Even Lucci, who had faced death countless times, reverted to his human form, unease flickering across his usually impassive face.
Hattori swooped overhead, circling the trio like a mischievous referee, and let out a mocking cackle. "Looks like someone just ticked off the legendary WITCH! You deserve this, you idiots!"
Kureha's grin widened. She raised her hands slightly as pitch-black haki coated her arm, and the sky trembled further, bolts of black lightning dancing from her fingertips. The Conqueror's Haki radiating from her was so intense that the remaining ancient trees in the clearing splintered under its force. The sound was like the groan of the world itself.
"You think you can just smash my little paradise while I'm away?" she hissed, voice low but carrying like cannon fire across the island. Then, with a laugh that could shatter mountains and sanity alike, she cackled.
"You imbeciles! You've truly forgotten all that beating I gave you the last time…? Seems like about time for a fresh reminder!"