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The lieutenant's eyes swept across the storeroom and then stopped.
His gaze locked onto a stack of large crates just in front of the apple pile.
"Surround that area," he ordered sharply.
Footsteps crunched forward across the floorboards. Behind those crates, buried under a heap of apples, Aero stirred.
Something caught his eye.
There, nestled between the apples, was a strange fruit.
He reached for it, his heartbeat accelerating.
It was about the size of an apple, maybe slightly bigger, but unlike anything he'd ever seen. Pale blue skin, covered in twisting, uneven spiral patterns.
No way… Is this… a Devil Fruit?
The kind of supernatural item that granted its user incredible abilities at the cost of never being able to swim again?
Maybe, I still have the plot armor.
Suppressing a rush of hope, Aero hesitated for just a second then bit into it.
His mouth instantly filled with pulpy, bitter blue juice.
He nearly gagged. The taste was awful.
Which shit god created this?
But he forced it down. Then another bite, And another.
He had to eat the whole thing. What if the power is only activated when fully consumed?
By the time he finished, he was trembling from the taste. His body shuddered violently. It reminded him of the first time he ever drank traditional medicine back on Earth disgusting, but necessary.
The taste is horrible… it has to be a Devil Fruit. It has to be.
Suddenly—
CRASH!
The crates shielding him exploded outward.
Gun barrels. Dozens of them. All pointed at him.
"Just one rat?" the lieutenant scoffed. "Tch. I was expecting more of a challenge."
Aero turned to face him.
This was the man who had torn through Scar with a single strike.
Aero didn't answer.
He raised his hand, palm open, and smiled.
"…The wind's changing."
The moment was surreal. Calm. Even cinematic.
A breeze stirred inside the still air of the room. At first, I faint. Then swirling. A miniature cyclone spiraled in Aero's palm, gaining speed, pressure, and strength.
The marines blinked.
"…Shoot him!" the lieutenant roared.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Dozens of musket balls tore through Aero's chest and torso.
He staggered, but never stopped smiling.
And then—
The whirlwind in his hand exploded outward, consuming him in spiraling gales.
Too late.
The Marines tried to run.
But no one escaped.
---
Three Days Later – Sea Circle Calendar 1519
A massive tornado was spotted near the waters surrounding Rubber Island, East Blue.
Naval search teams recovered the broken remains of a marine warship and a pirate vessel at the epicenter.
Lieutenant Commander Allen Solomon and more than a hundred of his crew were declared missing in action.
The East Blue Naval Branch launched a formal investigation.
The incident made headlines across the region. The front page of the East Blue Times featured a haunting image: the shredded remains of a white marine flag floating atop the sea, surrounded by jagged splinters of hull and driftwood.
When reinforcements arrived, they reported massive carnivorous sea fish still lurking near the wreckage.
No bodies were recovered.
To the public, it was a mystery.
But among pirates and marines, it meant something more.
A new power had awakened.
Who it belonged to… remained unknown.
Some assumed it was the work of a notorious pirate crew Arlong's men, or Krieg's armada, maybe even Rouge pirates.
But those names were quickly ruled out.
Lieutenant Commander Solomon had reported wiping out the Daggerfang Pirates and capturing a fully intact pirate ship along with their loot. He had also mentioned minimal casualties just seventeen wounded or dead, mostly from the earlier battle with Scar.
That was two hours before he vanished.
Two hours.
That was all it took for an entire warship, its crew, and the seized pirate vessel to be obliterated.
And not a soul left standing.
No known pirate group in East Blue had the capability for that kind of devastation in so little time.
The Naval Branch in East Blue forwarded the incident to Marine HQ.
They couldn't afford to let East Blue, the calmest of the four seas, fall into chaos.
A response came swiftly.
A Marine battleship from HQ was dispatched, along with over a hundred elite soldiers and a ranking colonel to restore order and reinforce East Blue.
The pirate underworld reacted just as quickly.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
Who had destroyed a marine warship and left no survivors?
If it was a pirate, he had yet to show himself. No bounty posters. No name. No survivors to speak his identity.
Just… wind.
Most pirates, violent and chaotic as they were, still valued their lives. Many of them began scaling back their activity.
For now, they would retreat to uninhabited islands or lie low in coastal towns, enjoying their stolen riches quietly.
Because they knew one truth:
The higher you fly, the harder you fall.
And whoever had done this?
Was flying very, very high.
---
Elsewhere, in the streets of a quiet coastal town on Rubber Island…
A man strolled casually along the road, hands in his pockets, sunglasses hanging from his shirt.
His bright red hair was tied into a short ponytail. He wore a light-blue plaid suit with sleek black dress shoes, and a single unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his lips.
Eddy Cahill.
An information broker.
A scavenger of secrets.
And sometimes a pirate.
Word had reached him that something unusual had occurred here. No survivors. No clear culprit.
He was here to sniff out the truth.
Because wherever chaos began… opportunity followed.
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~Thank you for reading!