After finishing their meal, the four resumed their journey through the jungle, the excitement of their adventure rekindled. Viktor, now more eager than ever to improve, continued asking Benimaru for training advice, with Camille and Jayce joining in. All three siblings dreamed of becoming strong enough to thrive in the unpredictable and dangerous world of the sea.
"So… how do you think I should train my physical abilities?" Viktor asked. "I've never really trained before—like, ever."
Benimaru chuckled, his pace steady as he led the group. "Well, if you join my crew, I'll train you personally. I promise that. But if I do... it'll be the hardest thing you've ever done in your life. No exceptions."
He said it casually, but the serious tone in his voice made the three siblings fall quiet for a moment. They could tell he meant every word.
Benimaru had already begun designing specialized training methods in his mind—not just for Viktor, but for all three. He'd already come up with a plan to create a custom prosthetic for Camille, inspired by the metal-legged character from the League of Legends universe she was unknowingly reminiscent of.
"Is that your condition?" Camille asked sharply. Of the three, she was the most eager to prove herself, perhaps because she believed she was the weakest, a burden. Her wooden pegleg reminded her every day of what she couldn't do, even if Jayce and Viktor never saw her that way.
"Yes. That's my condition," Benimaru said, without turning to look at them. He continued walking ahead, giving the siblings space to talk it over.
The trio fell back slightly, huddling close.
"So... should we join him?" Viktor asked. "It aligns with what we want. We get to explore the sea and get stronger at the same time. And Benimaru... he seems trustworthy, don't you think?"
"I agree," Jayce replied. "And if it ever feels wrong, we can always walk away. But I don't want to be separated from you two, no matter what."
Both Camille and Viktor smiled at that. The bond between them ran deeper than blood—they were each other's anchor in a world that had taken so much from them already.
"What do you think, Camille?" Viktor asked gently. "What do you want to do?"
Camille hesitated, her eyes drifting to her wooden pegleg. "How could Benimaru make me stronger?" she asked quietly. "How could he possibly help someone like me?"
Neither Jayce nor Viktor had an answer.
After a few beats of silence, Viktor cupped his hands and called out to Benimaru, who was several steps ahead of them now.
"HEY! Hypothetically speaking—if we did join your crew and trained with you—how would you train Camille? I mean... you've noticed, right? She's got a pegleg."
Benimaru paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Huh? That's a problem?" he asked, as if genuinely surprised.
He turned to face them fully. "Look, she's already walking with it, right? That means she can run with I,t too. If it's uncomfortable, I can make her a new prosthetic—one that moves like a real foot. Trust me, it's not even close to being a deal-breaker. Just say the word."
His casual tone was so confident, so matter-of-fact, that it stunned the trio. For once, Camille didn't feel like someone who needed to be "fixed." She just felt... capable.
Jayce, Viktor, and Camille exchanged looks. In that moment, they all understood each other perfectly. The decision was made.
They would accept Benimaru's invitation.
They didn't announce it yet—deciding to wait until after the treasure was found. But unbeknownst to them, Benimaru, with his finely tuned Observation Haki, had already sensed their intent. He smiled to himself as he continued leading the way, his heart quietly rejoicing.
------------
The four continued their trek deeper into the forest, with Benimaru confidently leading the way. Although the terrain grew more treacherous and they occasionally encountered wild and dangerous beasts, none posed any real threat. Benimaru dispatched each creature effortlessly—sometimes mimicking the sound of larger predators to scare them off, other times using precise throws of small objects to knock them out cold.
Camille, Viktor, and Jayce watched in awe. These beasts had always been symbols of fear and danger on their island, yet Benimaru treated them like nothing more than minor inconveniences. With every step, their confidence in their decision to follow him grew stronger.
After nearly three hours of steady travel, they arrived at the entrance to a cave. But this wasn't just any cave—it loomed before them like the open maw of a monstrous predator. Jagged rocks framed the entrance in the shape of gaping fangs, making the whole structure resemble the roaring mouth of a saber-toothed tiger.
As they stepped inside, a chilling change in the air washed over them.
The three siblings paused, glancing around uneasily. They couldn't quite explain it, but the cave felt wrong. Cold, heavy, almost... suffocating.
Benimaru, however, felt more than discomfort—his instincts, sharpened to the extreme, screamed warnings in the back of his mind. There was no ordinary danger here. The air was thick with something unnatural. Despair. Grief. Hopelessness. It wasn't just the absence of joy—it was as if all hope had been deliberately ripped from this place.
Deeper they ventured, their footsteps echoing off the narrow stone corridors. The cave branched into multiple paths, but one path caught their attention. Along the wall was a carved inscription, timeworn and nearly faded, but still legible.
Benimaru brushed dust from the stone and began to read aloud.
"Beneath this cavern lies the final creation of the fallen blacksmith—the Misery Cleaver.
Once celebrated across kingdoms, the blacksmith's name was ruined after a blade of his own design was used in regicide.
The king, his family, all slain... and the rumors began.
They whispered that the blades he forged drove men to madness, cursed with bloodlust and delusion.
Cast out by his people, hunted and shunned, he fled with his family into exile.
In the wilds, tragedy struck once more—his wife, lost to a beast while foraging.
Alone, broken by grief, the blacksmith lost his mind.
And in his madness, he forged one final weapon.
A cleaver like no other.
Born not of pride or craftsmanship, but rage and sorrow.
When he finished, he died.
Some say his soul did not pass on.
They say it merged with the blade.
A cursed spirit, bound in steel.
Misery follows the bearer.
Calamity stalks the wielder.
Thus, it was named...
The Misery Cleaver."
A heavy silence followed the final words.
Even the air seemed to grow colder.
Jayce swallowed hard. "So… this is the treasure?"
"It's a cursed blade," Camille muttered. "Why would a blade like that be here?"
"Probably because they wanted a remote island to hide the blade that would not affect innocent people anymore, not knowing that someone would settle here," Benimaru said quietly. He stepped forward, deeper into the passage where the inscription pointed. The others followed, more cautiously now, their excitement dulled by the weight of the story they'd just heard.
They were no longer treasure hunters.
They were approaching something ancient... something dangerous... and very much alive.