In the year 1503 of the Sea Circle Calendar, in the first half of the Grand Line.
On the vast blue sea, there lies a small island spanning over ten square kilometers.
The damp sea breeze sweeps in from the ocean, rustling through the dense forest, stirring the leaves into a soft, whispering chorus. Seagulls alight on the sandy shore, flapping their wings and chirping with clear, melodious cries.
A silver-haired boy, about fourteen or fifteen years old, dressed in a blue suit, lies motionless on the beach. His youthful yet strikingly handsome face bears a delicate beauty. His eyes are tightly shut as he lies sprawled on the sand, letting the waves wash over him repeatedly.
Overhead, the sun grows increasingly scorching, heating the sand beneath him.
The silver-haired boy lets out a faint groan, raising one hand to his forehead while propping himself up with the other, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.
"Where is this...? The sea...!?
Wasn't I just rescuing patients in the earthquake-stricken inland area...!?"
The boy opens his sapphire-blue eyes, scanning his surroundings in confusion. When he catches sight of his own slender, pale hands, he freezes in shock.
These were definitely not the hands of a twenty-six-year-old man...
This wasn't his original body!
As he struggles to recall what exactly happened to him, a flood of unfamiliar memories rushes into his mind...
Amidst a storm of thunder and lightning, a pirate ship flying a black skull flag attacks the large tourist sailboat the boy is on.
Over a hundred pirates, armed and grinning savagely, storm the deck. Leading them is a six-foot-tall, golden-braided giant of a man.
They indulge in their twisted desires—killing, plundering... The screams of women, the wails and cries of men fill the air.
In the chaos and terror aboard the sailboat, the silver-haired boy's father, in a desperate bid to save his son, fights through multiple stab wounds to kill a pirate and snatch a lifebuoy for him.
The moment the father slips the lifebuoy over the boy, a pirate stabs him through the chest from behind.
With his last ounce of strength, the father hurls his weeping son into the raging sea...
"Karl D. Safiros..."
The silver-haired boy murmurs the name of this frail body.
For some reason... tears begin streaming uncontrollably from his eyes.
Though his adult mind feels little sorrow, the tears refuse to stop.
If anything, it's sympathy for the original owner of this body.
Perhaps this is the body's instinctive reaction...?
After a while, the inexplicable surge of emotion gradually fades.
"Fine. Since I've taken over your body, I'll live on as you!
Your vengeance... I'll make sure it's repaid.
But this world... Gol D. Roger... the Pirate King...?"
After roughly sorting through the body's memories, Safiros can't help but let out a bitter smile.
It's the year 1503 of the Sea Circle Calendar—five years after the execution of Roger and the dawn of the Great Pirate Era.
In the future, this world will only grow more chaotic. Without strength, survival itself will be a struggle, just like what happened to this boy and his father...
"That pirate flag from the attack on the sailboat... why does it seem familiar?
A black flag with a horned skull and the number eight..."
The gnawing hunger in his stomach and the weakness in his limbs force Safiros to push aside his thoughts.
His most urgent task now is to find food and regain his strength.
Safiros pulls out a silver pocket watch from his clothes and checks the time—just past ten in the morning.
After surveying the beach once more, he decides to venture into the island's forest to search for something edible.
Though seagulls dot the shore, his body is too weak to even walk steadily, let alone gather stones to hunt them. Trying would be a waste of energy.
As for fishing in the sea...?
To his shame, in his past life, he was a terrible swimmer. He has no confidence in catching fish in shallow waters with this exhausted, feeble body...
Moving cautiously through the damp forest, Safiros treads carefully despite wearing leather shoes.
After all, stepping on a thorn or into a hidden pit would be disastrous in his current state.
He doesn't know how long he's been walking when he finally spots a small fruit tree bearing a few unripe wild fruits.
Excited, Safiros rushes over to pluck them for sustenance.
Suddenly!
As he reaches the tree, his gaze catches something in the nearby grass—a round, purple-red fruit covered in spiral patterns.
The treasure of the sea—a Devil Fruit!
At this sight, Safiros's breath hitches.
He strides forward, scooping the fruit into his hands.
If his memory serves him right, this fruit's full name should be...
**Zoan-type, Mythical Beast Model: Bat Fruit—Vampire Form!**
Eating this Devil Fruit grants the user eternal life and youth by consuming blood.
But... why is it here? Shouldn't it be hidden in Sleepy Town?
Stranded on a deserted island with no means of self-defense, Safiros doesn't dwell on the question. He brings the Vampire Fruit to his mouth and takes a large bite, swallowing chunks of it—skin and all.
He doesn't dare to chew or savor the taste...
Rumors say that while a single bite of a Devil Fruit grants its power, consuming the entire fruit might enhance initial mastery.
Safiros doesn't know if it's true, but to maximize his strength, he forces himself to devour the entire fruit—save for the stem.
Then...
The revolting taste explodes across his tongue, and the silver-haired boy drops to his knees, retching violently, his stomach convulsing.
"Ugh—!!!"
The indescribable foulness of the Devil Fruit makes him swear never to try it again.
Compared to this, even the most infamous "dark cuisine" of his past life seems like a delicacy.
After dry heaving for a while with nothing left to expel, Safiros's already weakened body finally gives out.
**Thud.**
The slender boy collapses onto the grass, unconscious once more...
Time passes indeterminably...
Three men appear in the forest, carrying barrels of fresh water. Spotting the silver-haired boy sprawled on the ground, they approach.
"Huh? A boy... but this is supposed to be an uninhabited island."
"Why is he lying here?"
"Aside from being weak, he doesn't seem sick."
"His face is quite handsome—prime merchandise. Selling him to nobles would fetch a high price."
"Alright, let's take him aboard."
Without a second thought, the three men decide the boy's fate as a commodity, never bothering to ask for his consent...