Two days later.
Just as the merchants of the East Blue had whispered in fearful tones, the moment the Black Eclipse crossed into the southwestern reach, the world changed.
The sunlight was devoured by a thick, viscous, gray-white fog. The sea breeze died instantly, replaced by violent, twisting undercurrents that churned deep beneath the surface like a graveyard of warring Sea Kings.
Bang! Bang! The terrifying pressure, enough to shred a standard merchant vessel like wet paper, slammed into the hull. The ship groaned, but it did not yield. The Iron Pine keel, reinforced with anti-corrosion steel, proved its eighty-million-Berry worth. The teardrop-shaped hull acted like a black scalpel, and under Sabo's surgical steering, it sliced through the deadly whirlpools with rhythmic power.
"Incredible pressure," Sabo remarked, staring at the black, surging water outside the pilothouse. "If we were in that wooden sloop we originally planned, we'd be splinters by now."
Ace stood at the very edge of the bow. Despite the violent pitching of the ship, his feet were nailed to the deck, his body an unmoving pillar of focus.
"We're here," Ace said, his voice cutting through the fog.
As he spoke, the white veil parted. A vast, desolate island emerged from the mist—a silent, prehistoric land forgotten by time. The coastline was littered with the bleached skeletons of whales and men alike, half-buried in coarse black gravel. Beyond the shore lay a primitive jungle so dense it seemed to swallow the light.
"Drop anchor."
The Black Eclipse's heavy steel anchor plummeted, biting deep into the rocky seabed.
Ace didn't wait for the gangway. He vaulted over the rail, falling twelve meters to land on the mudflat with a heavy thud. The sheer force of his landing drove his feet half a meter into the wet sand.
Sabo landed lightly beside him, his alloy staff gripped tight. "This place feels like a tomb. It isn't even on the charts."
"Let's go," Ace said, ignoring the bones at his feet. The "summons" in his mind had turned into a roar. He strode toward the jungle, his long, powerful legs devouring the distance.
The interior was a humid, sweltering hell. Giant ferns and vines blocked every path, but Sabo's staff blurred, slicing through the thick vegetation as if it were soft silk.
ROAR!!
Two kilometers in, the canopy exploded. A pungent, predatory wind swept over them as an ancient beast—ten meters long, armored in black scales with three whipping tails—lunged from above. It was the apex predator of this nameless rock, its fangs capable of crushing steel.
"Ace, look out!" Sabo's eyes narrowed, his staff coiling for a strike.
But Ace didn't even look up.
He kept his steady pace. Just as the beast was about to crush him, he raised his right hand, fingers splayed.
BOOM!
A dull sonic boom rippled through the air. Ace didn't use Haki. He didn't even use his full strength. His broad, calloused palm met the beast's massive skull like an unbreakable wall.
The kinetic energy was neutralized instantly. The ton-heavy predator was frozen in mid-air by a single hand.
Fear, cold and human, filled the beast's reptilian eyes. It struggled, but the hand on its head held the weight of a mountain.
"Quiet," Ace whispered. He pressed his wrist downward.
CRUNCH!!
The earth shuddered as the beast was driven into the soil. Its skull shattered with a sickening crack. It didn't have time to scream before it went limp, blood staining the mud.
Ace stepped over the carcass, his breathing unchanged. "At least the food on this island is decent."
Sabo shook his head, staring at the dead monster. At seventeen, Ace had become something unfathomable—a physical anomaly.
They pushed deeper until the jungle thinned, replaced by steep, obsidian cliffs. Guided by his Kenbunshoku Haki, Ace led them behind a massive waterfall into a natural cavern.
The air inside was thick with the scent of wet moss. At the end of the cave stood a black rock face webbed with ancient cracks.
"Ace, look," Sabo whispered, pointing to a crevice at the base of the cliff.
Tucked away in the shadows was a strangely shaped fruit. It was a brilliant orange-red, its skin swirled with patterns that resembled spiral flames. Even at a distance, a faint, dry heat seemed to emanate from it.
"A Devil Fruit? Growing here?" Sabo's voice was filled with rare shock. In the East Blue, these were myths—treasures worth fortunes.
Ace stepped forward, but his eyes didn't stay on the orange fruit. His Haki was pulling at his nerves, screaming at him to look higher.
Three meters up the cliff, hidden in a much narrower, darker fissure, sat another fruit.
Ace reached up and pulled it from the dark.
It was a noble, crimson-gold fruit shaped like a beating heart. The spiral patterns on its skin intertwined to form an ancient totem—a divine bird spreading its wings.
One low. One high. Twin demons of fate.
Ace looked at the crimson-gold fruit, feeling a violent resonance in his blood. It was a primal recognition, a gift from the sea itself to a boy born to be a King.
The doubt left his eyes, replaced by a cold, unshakeable depth. If the heavens offer a throne, only a fool refuses to sit.
Ace scooped up the orange-red Flame fruit from the lower crevice and tossed it back to Sabo without looking.
"Ace? What is this?"
"Logia Class. The Mera Mera no Mi," Ace's voice echoed through the cave, heavy with command. "Eat it, Sabo. From this day forward, you are the flame that lights the path of the Eclipse."
Ace looked back at the crimson-gold fruit in his own palm. For a moment, he thought he heard the cry of a divine bird piercing through the layers of time. He didn't waste a second. He opened his mouth and bit into the golden flesh.
The gear of fate didn't just turn—it shattered.