The big ship flew above the clouds.
Roya sat cross-legged on the horizontal bar of the mast, quietly gazing out over the sea of clouds ahead.
He had transmigrated to this world many many years ago.
Born into a different world, his parents in this life had been a pirate couple under the command of the Rocks Pirates—nameless nobodies who both died early during an expedition.
Surviving as a child alone on Beehive Island, a haven for the wicked and lawless, should have been impossible.
But Roya thrived—and two years ago, even earned Rocks D. Xebec's recognition, officially becoming a trainee in the Rocks Pirates.
There were only two trainees aboard the Rocks Pirates: one was Roya, and the other was Kaido. Though "trainee" was just a title—in truth, they were treated as junior officers with full pay. Roya had been living quite comfortably these past two years.
But he knew that this comfort was coming to an end.
The year was 1484 in the Sea Circle Calendar.
The Battle of God Valley was imminent.
The collapse of the Rocks Pirates was inevitable.
A new era was coming.
Where should I go?
"Boy, what are you daydreaming about?"
A gruff voice came from below.
On the deck beneath, a large banquet table was filled with food and drink. The legendary pirate himself, Shiki the Golden Lion, was feasting loudly.
He ate like a lion—wildly tearing chunks of meat and downing flagons of sake. His face was smeared with grease, but he exuded a charisma as bold and untamed as the seas he ruled.
"Since you don't need to eat, stop standing there like a scarecrow and speed the ship up already," Shiki said lazily, biting into a drumstick.
Hearing this, Roya couldn't help but grumble. "Uncle Shiki really knows how to bark orders."
As he spoke, sleek black fur began to spread over his body.
These glossy black hairs weren't soft—they resembled steel needles, sharp as a hedgehog's quills, yet unnaturally flexible.
A pair of black wings unfurled from his back, and atop his furry cheeks, sharp horns curved upward. Bronze lines traced themselves along the surface of those horns.
Whoosh!
A powerful gust of wind suddenly swept through the sails.
Once limp, the sails now billowed with strength, and the massive ship hanging in the sky lurched forward, accelerating at astonishing speed.
"Hmm! That's the stuff!"
The gust tousled Shiki's golden mane, and he let out a satisfied sigh. "What a handy ability! Qiongqi, right? Which country's mythology is that from?"
Roya lazily lay on the mast's horizontal bar and stretched. "Who knows? I read it in a book once. Said it was a beast of calamity. Seemed fitting."
"Hahahaha! A beast that walks with disaster and feeds on it! That's exactly what you are!"
The Golden Lion roared with laughter.
Qiongqi was one of the ancient legendary beasts from Roya's previous life.
A winged tiger of myth, feared as an omen of catastrophe and punishment for the righteous.
This was the power Roya possessed.
But to be precise, this wasn't a Devil Fruit ability.
Because Roya had never eaten a Devil Fruit.
His power to transform into Qiongqi was something innate. Maybe it had something to do with the Qiongqi pendant he'd bought before transmigrating?
Regardless, though not technically a Devil Fruit, his power resembled one—complete with three forms: human, hybrid, and full beast.
So, for convenience, he announced to the world that his ability was the Cat-Cat Fruit: Model Qiongqi, a Mythical Zoan.
That was the key reason Rocks himself had acknowledged him—despite his hatred for children—and made him a trainee.
Roya's ability was terrifying.
He could bring about both natural and man-made disasters.
As a mythical beast representing catastrophe, the horns on Roya's head could invoke cataclysmic events under specific conditions.
When near land, he could cause earthquakes, landslides, and volcanic eruptions.
Near water, he could twist river currents, flood coastlines, or summon tsunamis.
In the sky, he could call storm clouds, conjure thunder, and unleash hurricane-force winds.
And when he locked eyes with people, he could inflict human disaster.
Roya's eyes had the power to suppress kindness and unleash malice.
He could see the darkness in human hearts. With a change in eye pattern, he could twist even the kindest soul, inciting cruelty, fear, and chaos.
If the target's will was weak, they would be swallowed by their own evil thoughts—losing all sense of self, reduced to an emotionless specter under Roya's control.
But that wasn't all.
Suffering nourished Roya—literally.
The pain, fear, and torment of others became black mist, which only he could see and absorb.
This black mist acted as both food and water. For Roya, high-quality "black energy" tasted better than any feast and could restore stamina and heal injuries.
Most importantly, it helped him grow—increasing the range, strength, and nature of his abilities.
As Shiki had put it, he walked with disaster, and he fed on it.
It was an evil, dreadful power—but Roya loved it.
It suited this filthy world perfectly.
"I'm full!"
Shiki wiped his greasy face with a napkin and grinned. "Boy—help me digest."
"Alright."
Roya flipped and landed softly on the deck.
"You brat. Always so eager when there's action."
Shiki waved a hand. The table and chairs flew away on their own—lifted by the power of the Float-Float Fruit.
Two swords flew from a weapon rack and stabbed into the deck in front of Roya with a sharp clang.
"Balance of work and play, Uncle Shiki."
Roya grinned and casually pulled both swords free. For a seven-year-old, they were almost taller than he was, but he wielded them with practiced ease.
"You ready?" Shiki asked, lighting a cigar.
"Ready!"
Without hesitation, Roya burst forward in a blur, twin blades flashing like a predator's fangs.
"Hahahaha! Eager little devil!"
Shiki blew out a smoke ring and raised two fingers.
Clang!
His two signature blades—Oto and Kogarashi—sprang from his waist, unsheathed by the Float-Float Fruit, and clashed with Roya's assault like twin serpents.
Metal rang loud and sharp across the deck.
Roya's twin swords danced like a storm, slashes blurring into wind—but even so, he was no match.
Even without touching his weapons, Shiki's swordsmanship was unmatched.
All Roya could do was resist, deflect, and dodge.
"Nice move, Uncle Shiki! Flying Sword Style!"
"Hahahaha! I only use it when I'm babysitting you!"
But the Golden Lion's tone turned serious. "Still, you've improved. Maybe it's time we take it up a notch."
In the blink of an eye, the two blades accelerated.
Caught mid-strike, Roya was pushed back.
The speed—and the power—had jumped dramatically.
"You're too serious, Uncle Shiki! I'm still just a kid!"
Despite the protest, Roya didn't retreat. He charged forward again.
Strictly speaking, this was a training match.
Since joining the Rocks Pirates, many of the officers had been uncharacteristically kind to Roya.
He knew why.
Everyone could feel it—the Rocks Pirates wouldn't last. Their fall was coming.
So everyone was planning ahead.
The return trip to Beehive Island was spent sparring.
Soon, the great ship broke through the clouds—and the dark, wicked island appeared below.
Beehive Island.
Their den of devils.
Their battlefield.
Their soon-to-be grave.