Sabaody Archipelago, Grove 1.
As the black heart of the lawless zone and the site of the Human Auction House, the air here hung heavy with the acrid tang of low-grade tobacco, the iron scent of blood, and the stale stench of the sewers. Collared slaves shuffled through the muddy streets under the watchful eyes of underworld thugs bristling with blades and flintlocks.
Ace and Sabo walked shoulder-to-shoulder. Though they kept their auras tightly coiled, the sheer weight of their presence—forged through mountains of corpses and rivers of blood—forced the outlaws to press themselves against the walls as they passed.
Ace's Observation Haki remained flared, scanning the environment. As they ventured deeper into the squalor of Grove 1, the strange rhythm he had sensed earlier became a frantic, pulsing beat in the back of his mind.
He stopped abruptly at the mouth of a narrow, lightless alley.
Deep within sat a weathered wooden pushcart. Behind it stood an old pirate, blind in one eye and nursing a look of deep suspicion. The cart was a graveyard of scrap metal salvaged from nameless wrecks, topped with a basket of variegated, half-rotted fruit.
Ace's gaze ignored the junk, piercing through to the very bottom of the basket.
He stepped forward. Ignoring the owner's flinch, he reached out and brushed aside a layer of bruised, fermenting apples. Tucked into the shadows lay a pineapple-shaped fruit. It was a deep, bruised purplish-black, its skin etched with intricate, interlocking arabesque spirals.
The moment Ace's fingers brushed the skin, the rhythm in his mind fell silent. It was replaced by a hollow, deathly stillness, as if the power within had finally found its rightful vessel.
"A Devil Fruit?" Sabo stood at his shoulder, his brow arching as he studied the strange patterns. "To think something like that would be rotting in a street stall in a hole like this."
The one-eyed stall owner stared, baffled. He had no memory of such a fruit finding its way into his stock.
Ace looked at the fruit, a flash of cold realization crossing his dark eyes. Devil Fruits, especially those at the apex of power, possessed a will of their own. In another life, this fruit was destined for Thatch, the Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates—a find that would trigger Blackbeard's betrayal.
But fate had been set ablaze.
Blackbeard, Marshall D. Teach, was still playing the role of the humble crewman, hiding in Whitebeard's shadow and biding his time. But Ace carried Roger's blood and the soul of a transmigrator—a combination that had forged a rare "Dual Fruit Slot" physique. His ambition was a beacon in the dark, a desire for destruction more potent than Teach could ever offer.
The most sinister fruit in history, the Dark-Dark Fruit, had sensed a master purer and more terrifying than the original. It had effectively respawned itself directly in Ace's path.
"How much?" Ace tossed a gold coin onto the cart.
The owner looked at the coin, then at Ace's face—a face he had seen plastered on a 1.5 billion berry bounty poster. He began to shake violently, his hands waving in a panicked gesture of refusal before he turned and bolted into the depths of the alley, abandoning his livelihood.
Ace didn't blink. He raised the fruit to his lips and took a large bite.
"Ace?!"
Sabo's face drained of color. He lunged to stop him, but it was too late. "You're crazy! You already have the Vermilion Bird! Your body will explode under the curse!"
Ace endured the sudden, violent nausea—it tasted of spoiled fish and rot—and forced himself to swallow. He tossed the remaining core into the gutter.
"An ordinary body would," Ace whispered, his voice strained.
He closed his eyes, feeling the tectonic shift occurring beneath his skin. There was no rejection. No sensation of being torn apart.
The crimson divine fire of the Mythical Zoan Suzaku burned in his heart and bloodline. Now, an icy, abyssal energy, like a collapsing star, crashed into the second vessel within him, racing toward his limbs and marrow. Fire and darkness achieved a perfect, predatory coexistence.
"Phew..."
Ace exhaled slowly. With that breath, a thick, suffocating black mist seeped from his pores. When the afternoon sun hit the vapor, the light didn't reflect; it was forcibly swallowed. The ground beneath his boots began to groan and twist. Gravel, splintered wood, and even the ambient light began to spiral toward him, caught in an irresistible gravitational pull.
Sabo took a step back, his own Flame-Flame Fruit abilities flickering with an instinctive sense of suppression.
"What is this?" Sabo asked, his voice low with shock. "Is your body... truly intact?"
"Better than ever."
Ace opened his eyes. The black smoke coalesced in his right hand, forming a miniature black hole that ate the light around it. In his left hand, the red-gold flames of the Vermilion Bird erupted with a roar, radiating a heat that cracked the nearby stone.
"Logia-type: Dark-Dark Fruit."
Ace looked at the two opposing forces in his palms, his voice steady with absolute confidence. "It can't elementalize to dodge like other Logias, and I'll take double the pain from any strike I don't parry. But in exchange, it grants me the power of gravity, the ability to consume all things, and... the absolute privilege to nullify any Devil Fruit ability on this sea."
Sabo stared at his brother—fire in one hand, darkness in the other—and let out a slow, shaky breath. Even for the calculated Chief of Staff, the implications were dazing.
A monster with high-level Haki, the regenerative immortality of the Vermilion Bird, and the ability-negating darkness of the Yami Yami no Mi. Logic had been discarded. A god-slayer had been born.
"This is... something else," Sabo chuckled, gripping his lead pipe. "If the Navy finds out, Sengoku will probably tear Marineford down with his bare hands."
"They'll find out soon enough."
Ace withdrew the mist and flames. The gravitational pressure vanished, and he returned to the appearance of a tall, composed young man. He turned toward the massive domed structure at the end of the street—the Human Auction House.
The sound of dull gunshots and arrogant, nasal laughter drifted through the air. Ace's Observation Haki was already there, feeling the filth within.
"Let's go, Sabo." Ace adjusted the collar of his trench coat. "I have a new power to test. The Admiral isn't here yet, but those trash heaps in the bubble helmets will make for excellent practice."
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