Jiexi pulled his younger brother Jieming to their knees before Raiver. They kowtowed heavily, a dull "thud" echoing on the deck.
"Thank you for saving our lives, my lord!"
Jiexi's voice was hoarse and trembling.
Just moments ago, he had let out the most desperate cry of his life.
He hadn't held out any hope.
In these seas ruled by the Celestial Dragons, who would provoke the World Nobles for the sake of two slaves?
But he had still shouted, using the last ounce of his strength.
And a god had truly answered his call.
Now, kneeling before Raiver and looking at this cold-faced man dressed in black, Jiexi's heart pounded wildly.
He had never seen anyone like this—a man who didn't even blink when he killed, whose expression remained utterly placid as he beheaded a Celestial Dragon.
Raiver's gaze finally fell upon the two brothers.
His eyes first landed on Jieming's calf, where a mangled, bloody bullet hole was visible.
Moving up, he saw the bloody gash on the boy's face, ground in by the heel of a shoe.
Then he looked at Jiexi.
Beneath his tattered clothes, a dense network of whip marks, old and new, crisscrossed his skin. Some had scabbed over, while others were still oozing blood.
"Boy, do you wish to grasp your own destiny?" Raiver suddenly asked.
The brothers looked up, bewildered.
Destiny? When had they ever had a destiny?
Not since their parents were brutally murdered and they were abducted by traffickers, eventually being sold to the Celestial Dragons.
From that point on, their destiny consisted only of whips, chains, and endless humiliation.
They were raised like livestock, tortured like toys, and disposed of like trash.
Ripples appeared in the space, and two Devil Fruits materialized in Raiver's hands.
The fruit on the left was a dark gold, its patterns resembling the bristling fur of an enraged gorilla.
The one on the right was silver and black, its patterns like the fangs of a saber-toothed tiger.
"Zoan-type Ancient Species Gorilla Fruit Kong Great Ape Form."
"Zoan-type Ancient Species Tiger-Tiger Fruit Saber-toothed Tiger Form."
Raiver calmly announced the names of the fruits.
The brothers trembled violently.
They recognized these things—no, they had seen something like them before.
Three years ago, Saint Shaman had bought a Zoan Type fruit at an auction and, in front of all the slaves, forced a gladiator slave to swallow it.
The man transformed into a half-man, half-lion monster, his strength surging as he tore three opponents to shreds.
Then Saint Shaman had laughed uproariously and ordered his guards to riddle the man with bullets.
"See? Even if a plebeian gains power, he's still a plebeian!" Saint Shaman had declared at the time.
Later, Jiexi overheard from the guards' chatter that the fruit was worth one hundred million Belly, a Zoan Type, Lion-Lion Fruit, with no special form!
(Alright, that last part was a joke. Of course I know there's no such thing as a "normal species.")
"Eat them. Strive to become strong. I hope you will be of use to me in the future. From now on, call me 'Boss'!"
Raiver's voice pulled them back to reality.
The brothers exchanged a look, seeing the same resolve in each other's eyes.
They nodded solemnly and reached out, accepting the fruits with an almost reverent posture.
"We can never repay you for saving our lives, Boss. We can only follow you to our deaths!"
With that, they hesitated no longer and bit into the fruits.
An indescribably strange taste exploded in their mouths, but they forced themselves to swallow.
To repay your grace, I will wield my sword and die for you.
This line was the truest reflection of their thoughts at this moment.
The instant the fruit's flesh entered their stomachs—
Voom!
A violent power erupted from their abdomens, surging like a flood into their limbs and bones!
Jiexi let out a suppressed roar as his body began to swell uncontrollably.
His muscles bulged, his bones cracked like popping beans, and short, dark golden fur sprouted on his skin.
The phantom of an ancient Kong Great Ape flashed behind him and vanished.
Jieming was also transforming.
His fingers elongated into sharp claws, and a tiger's tail burst through his clothes at the base of his spine.
The ferocious aura of a saber-toothed tiger filled the air.
Even more astonishingly, all their injuries—the gunshot wound, the whip marks, the fractured bones, the bruises—healed in just a few breaths.
Their new skin was smooth and tough, and their muscles pulsed with explosive power.
Jieming stared at his hands in disbelief. With a light squeeze, he made the air pop.
He threw a tentative punch, and the force of the blow dented and deformed an iron barrel ten feet away!
"This... This is power?"
The boy murmured to himself, tears welling in his eyes.
They were not tears of sadness, but of an ecstatic joy from regaining something that had been stripped from him for so long.
Jiexi felt the power coursing through him, a ferocity that felt capable of tearing mountains apart, and it made him tremble all over.
He looked at his brother, saw the same shock in his eyes, and then they both turned to Raiver—
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Three heavy kowtows, the sound of their foreheads striking the deck growing heavier each time.
On the final kowtow, the wooden planks cracked in a spiderweb pattern from the force of their newfound strength.
"Boss!"
This cry no longer held the fear and humility of before, but was filled with newfound power and a death-defying loyalty.
Raiver looked at the two kneeling before him, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
He didn't just need thugs; he needed combatants who could one day stand on their own.
And the fire in these brothers' eyes showed him their potential.
"Jieming, Jiexi."
He spoke calmly, pointing to the unconscious Saint Donquixote at the other end of the deck.
"Go slap that stupid pig awake. Control your strength, don't kill him."
"Yes, Boss!"
The two rose to their feet, their movements as swift as cheetahs. In just a few steps, they crossed the sixty-foot deck. Jiexi kicked Saint Luo's head out of Saint Donquixote's arms.
The head rolled a few times, its unblinking eyes coming to rest facing the sky.
Then, he raised his hand.
Smack!
The first slap. Saint Donquixote's fat left cheek instantly swelled and turned red, but he didn't wake up.
Smack!
The second slap. His right cheek swelled to match, and teeth mixed with bloody foam flew from the corner of his mouth.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
What followed was a torrential storm of slaps.
The brothers said nothing, simply taking turns, swinging left and right.
Each blow was controlled to a level that was agonizingly painful but not fatal.
Saint Donquixote finally awoke amidst the searing pain.
He barely managed to pry open his swollen eyelids. In his blurry vision were two faces he never would have expected to see standing there.
Those two lowly slaves were looking down on him with cold eyes, their hands raised, ready to strike again.
"You... you..."
He spoke indistinctly, only to be cut off by another slap.
"Shut up, you swine."
Jiexi's voice was bone-chillingly cold.
He remembered too much. He remembered this fat pig branding his brother's back with a red-hot iron just because he found the boy's "crying interesting."
He remembered being forced to eat food mixed with glass shards, then watching the pig laugh as his mouth filled with blood.
Every slap was an echo of a memory.
Meanwhile, Raiver had walked over to Saint Shaman.
The woman's face was as pale as paper from excessive blood loss from her severed limbs.
"Space Imprisonment."
An invisible force field enveloped her wounds, instantly staunching the flow of blood. The severed stumps were sealed by a thin Space Barrier.
He had already killed one Celestial Dragon. He would leave these two for Rocks to deal with.
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