After reading the grim tale etched into the stone walls, Benimaru turned toward the three siblings, a flicker of something wild and excited dancing in his eyes—something dangerously close to madness.
A cursed weapon, possibly a Meitō, and maybe even forged during the Void Century… If even a shred of that was true, then what lay ahead wasn't just valuable—it was legendary. Far rarer than any Devil Fruit. Far more personal.
"This might be more than just a relic," Benimaru muttered under his breath, his voice low and reverent. "It could be the kind of power history itself tried to bury."
Then louder, to the others, he added with uncharacteristic seriousness, "Stay here. If there are traps—and there will be traps—I don't want to risk my crew before our journey even begins."
Camille's response was immediate.
"We're not ornaments, Benimaru," she said, stepping forward, her pegleg striking the stone floor with a sharp clack. "We've survived out there for years on our own. We're not about to sit back and wait while you handle everything. Not after we've chosen this path."
Jayce and Viktor nodded firmly beside her, their eyes burning with the same determination.
Benimaru stared at them for a moment. Then, slowly, he smiled—proud, impressed, and a little relieved.
"Alright," he said, turning away with a grin. "Just don't get yourselves killed."
They ventured deeper, following a narrow tunnel that spiraled downward into the heart of the mountain. Every step was silent, their eyes scanning the walls and ground for traps.
Then it happened.
Click.
A small pressure plate depressed beneath Viktor's boot.
"Viktor, sto—" Benimaru began, but it was too late.
THWIP!
A crossbow bolt shot from a hidden slit in the wall, piercing straight through Viktor's torso. The force of the impact sent him staggering back, a gaping hole now visible in his midsection.
"VIKTOR!!" Camille screamed, rushing to his side, panic erupting in her voice.
Jayce stood frozen, staring at the wound in horror.
But there was no blood.
No pained cry. No collapse.
Benimaru, unfazed, sighed and crossed his arms.
"Dramatic much?"
Camille turned to snap at him, but then froze as she looked back down.
Viktor was… laughing.
"Hahaha—HAHAHA!! I'm not hurt!" Viktor shouted, grinning like a madman as the hole in his abdomen began to close. A dark, rocky substance flowed from the edges, forming new mass until the wound was completely sealed. Within seconds, his body was back to normal, as if nothing had happened.
"—what…?" Camille stammered.
Benimaru walked up beside them, hands in his pockets, and gave a knowing smirk. "What you ate was a Logia-type Devil Fruit. It turns your body into a natural element—in your case, stone. You're not just immune to damage… You are the element itself. Physical attacks don't work unless a Haki is involved, but that would be a topic for the future."
Camille and Jayce rushed to Viktor, inspecting him with awe. His skin still had flecks of stone that slowly faded back into flesh.
"Well," Viktor said, flashing a grin, "any regrets about not eating the fruit, Camille?"
Camille snorted and crossed her arms. "Please. I don't need some weird fruit to keep up with you."
That made both Viktor and Jayce burst into laughter.
Benimaru watched the three fondly. Their bond was genuine. Unshakable. He felt it in the way they moved, fought, even panicked together. This was what made a crew, not just strength, but trust.
Still, the deeper they went, the stronger the pressure grew.
And somewhere, in the dark below, the Misery Cleaver waited—its cursed soul already stirring.
-----------
After navigating an endless series of traps and labyrinthine corridors, the four finally reached a massive door. Its dark, glistening surface shimmered faintly like obsidian—but Benimaru knew better. He stepped forward and pressed his palm against it.
"Sea-Prism Stone…" he muttered.
The purity of the material was unmistakable. A mere touch of this much seastone could cripple even the strongest Devil Fruit users—and this door was forged entirely from it. It radiated a cold pressure that made Viktor's knees buckle the moment he stepped too close.
"Back up," Benimaru ordered.
Grunting, he pushed his hands beneath the massive slab. Even with his monstrous strength, his muscles strained. The sheer density of the seastone defied logic. His arms trembled, veins bulging as he lifted the door just enough to allow the others to slip under.
"Go!" he barked.
Camille, Viktor, and Jayce rushed beneath, shielding themselves from the pressure of the stone. Benimaru followed after them, lowering the door slowly, carefully—he knew that if it slammed shut, they might never get out again.
But the moment they stepped into the chamber, everything changed.
The room was vast, its walls carved smooth and seamless. At its center, illuminated by a soft, eerie glow, rested the cleaver, embedded in a black stone pedestal. The blade radiated a faint mist, almost like steam. But before any of them could move…
Camille froze. Then Jayce. Then Viktor.
Benimaru blinked as he watched their eyes glaze over, their bodies locked in place.
Then he felt it.
A pressure. Not physical, but mental. Emotional. A deep, dark aura that clawed at the soul itself.
Illusion.
Benimaru narrowed his eyes toward the cleaver. It pulsed with an ancient, malevolent will—testing them.
But he remained untouched. Whether through sheer force of will or his advanced Haki, the illusions failed to take hold of him. So he waited. If the three were to wield true strength, they had to face their darkness.
Within the illusion, each of them endured nightmare after nightmare.
Viktor saw himself ripped apart, helpless to protect his siblings. Each loop ended the same—Camille crying out for him. Jayce was dying with regret in his eyes. Again. Again. Again.
Jayce watched his inventions explode, his attempts to protect failing every time. He saw Camille's pegleg shatter as she tried to run. Viktor crumbling to dust as if he'd never existed.
Camille faced herself.
Weak. Broken. A burden.
In the illusion, her leg shattered each time she stood. The guilt of slowing them down, of being the reason they lost, crushed her. Over and over. Her screams echoed through endless darkness.
But in the face of despair… they fought.
Jayce broke free first. His light-hearted optimism, once seen as naivety, became a shield. He punched through the illusion with a scream of defiance.
Next came Viktor, fists clenched, tears streaking his face. "I won't lose them!" he bellowed, breaking his chains.
But Camille…
She was silent.
Until she stood.
"No more," she whispered.
Her illusion self glared at her, mocking. But Camille walked forward, every step shaking the illusion apart. She gritted her teeth, clutching her wooden leg.
"I am not broken."
The world shattered around her.
The three siblings gasped for breath as they came back to reality, trembling and drenched in sweat. Their eyes locked with Benimaru's, who was already at the pedestal, staring down at the blade.
"You passed," Benimaru said with quiet pride.
Then he reached out.
The cleaver's handle sprouted a spike, jabbing deep into his palm. Blood trickled down his arm. At the same time, the weapon drank from him—not just his blood, but his Haki. Greedily. Hungrily.
Benimaru didn't flinch.
"Not enough?" he muttered.
Then, his Conqueror's Haki surged. The air cracked. Dust trembled. A crushing wave of spiritual pressure engulfed the room as his aura poured into the cleaver, forcing it to submit.
The blade howled—a high-pitched shriek only the soul could hear—as it pushed back, releasing its own killing intent so intense it dropped the barely recovered Camille, Viktor, and Jayce to their knees.
But Benimaru didn't move.
He increased his Haki, pushing it deeper into the weapon until finally… the cleaver fell silent.
The room grew still. The killing intent evaporated. The cleaver glowed faintly, its misty aura dimming until it whispered—only to Benimaru—its true name:
"Shinsatsu."
Benimaru smiled.
"I accept you."