Jinx POV
Fun.
and
Fucked.
That was the shorthand for every waking second of my life since I woke up in this godforsaken One Piece world.
First I watched myself die in a blank, cold place — not even really me, just a drifting consciousness — while my body went and fought Rocks D. fucking Xebec. He won. I blacked out. Then I woke up inside this skin again, and one stupid choice led to another until now I'm the left hand of a madman who drinks like the sea is his liver. A month later, I'm curled in the dim corner of my cabin trying to decide whether I should sleep or invent a new way to nap.
A knock at the door: timid, careful. One of the crew—"crewmember," they call themselves; I call them servants in my head—peers in. He's got that guilty, nervous look of men who've seen monsters and decided to keep breathing anyway.
"Umm… Vice-Captain Jinx? Captain Xebec asks for you in his quarters," he stammers. The name means nothing to him; to me it's an echo of a life I barely remember.
I sigh, wave him off like a fly, and he scurries away. I stand up, muscles still protesting, and my hand finds the Black Mortal Blade at my hip without thinking. Saying its whole damn name is exhausting, so I've taken to shortening everything. Names matter, right? They bind things tighter. After a moment's thought I give it one that fits: Kuroshigai no Shōzetsu — 黒死解の抄絶. Death-Severance, in kanji that taste like cold steel.
The moment the words settle in my mouth I feel it: the familiar hum, deeper than before, like an old friend recognizing my smell. The blade warms to me. Or maybe I warmed to it. Either way, something clicked.
I shove the cabin door open and barge into Xebec's quarters like I own three continents. There they are: Xebec and Newgate, two mountains in a barrel-stink room, faces flushed from drink. They've got a merchant's looted barrel between them, and a third barrel—our third—sits waiting for me like an offering.
I collapse beside them, rip the lid off, and the smell of rotten rum hits me like home. I start chugging. Warmth blooms in my chest, numbing the edges of the night. Half the barrel disappears in a few long, practiced swallows.
Xebec slams his barrel down—hard. Everyone in the room knows that sound: business time. Me and Newgate set our barrels down too, the wood creaking like old bones.
Xebec's grin is the kind that makes bad things sound fun. He leans forward, eyes bright with plans I know will involve flaming chaos. "Alright," he says, voice a rumble with beer and blood and mischief. "Reason I called you here—time to stop being small-time dogs. Merchants are crumbs. The sea needs to remember who commands it. We're getting our name out there proper."
Newgate shifts, giant shoulders tight. He's quieter than Xebec, a mountain that thinks before it crushes. I can see it in the way his eyes flick to me, curious.
Xebec's grin widens until it's a slash of teeth. "We're done picking at corpses. It's time we destroy a kingdom."
The words hang in the room like a dare. For a second the only sound is the cupboard wind whistling through the hull. I let the sentence settle. Destroy a kingdom. That's not a raid. That's not a Davy Back. That's a statement you carve with cannon smoke and keep with blood.
A slow laugh leaks out of Xebec, the kind of laugh that means you've already rehearsed the victory song in your head. Newgate's expression doesn't change, but I can feel the shift in the room—anticipation, danger, the sweet whiff of chaos.
My thumb traces the hilt of Kuroshigai. The name feels warm in my mouth. My eyes go calm—that vacant, starry look people mistake for peace because they don't know what something like me carries. I am chaos wrapped in a kid's body. I'm a weapon that fell through time and luck. Sitting across from these two, I realize I could either be a blade in their hands or the spark that burns them both.
I smile, small and slow, and it isn't a friendly smile. It's the kind that promises everything and nothing at once. "Sounds… fun," I say. The word is soft, like a match struck in a dark room.
Xebec howls, delighted. Newgate exhales a sound that could be a laugh or a warning. The barrel's lid settles back on the table with a dull thud, but the echo of Xebec's idea already rattles through the ship—plans forming, crews sharpening teeth, maps being imagined with kingdoms at the center and fire on the edges.
Outside, the sea stares back at us, wide and indifferent, and for the first time since I woke up in this body, I feel an itch behind my ribs—not hunger, not quite. A promise. A thing waiting to happen.
Fun.
and
Fucked.
The Rocks' ship drifted a couple of miles off the coast of Veyra, a proud little kingdom whose banners snapped lazily in the ocean wind. From this distance, the city's walls and towers looked sturdy, but not invincible—perfect prey for the kind of statement Xebec wanted to carve into the world.
But instead of charging in, the crew waited. The men shifted uneasily on the deck, restless and impatient. Whitebeard finally broke the silence, his deep voice rumbling.
"Why are we sitting here? If we're going to attack, we should move."
Xebec growled in agreement, slamming down his cup. "Aye, I'm starting to lose my patience too. But…" His eyes flicked to the quiet figure sitting cross-legged near the mast. "This was the brat's idea. Said we had to wait."
Both captains turned their attention to Jinx.
The boy wasn't sleeping this time. He sat unnervingly still, violet eyes fixed on the distant shoreline. His shadow stretched unnaturally across the deck, and the crew could feel something crawling beneath it.
Then the whispers began.
Low, fragmented murmurs, like hundreds of voices speaking at once, seeped across the ship. Crewmen froze, eyes darting. Some clutched their ears. Others rushed about, searching for the source of the voices.
But Whitebeard and Xebec already knew. Their instincts told them what their eyes confirmed—the whispers were leaking from Jinx himself.
And then the shadows moved.
Like liquid darkness, they surged outward from beneath Jinx, splintering into dozens of shadowy figures. The forms twisted, half-human, half-wraith, their shapes dissolving into streams of ink as they shot across the waves. They moved impossibly fast, streaking toward the kingdom's shoreline until they vanished into the streets of Veyra.
The deck fell silent again, save for the uneasy shifting of boots and the pounding of waves.
Whitebeard leaned closer, his massive frame looming. "What was that, boy?"
Jinx tilted his head, blinking slowly as if waking from a trance. His voice came soft, detached.
"Something I developed back in the Void Century. I only managed to reawaken it… two days ago."
Xebec's grin widened, feral curiosity burning in his eyes. "Kuahahaha! And what exactly did you create?"
Jinx rose to his feet, shadows curling faintly around his body. His violet eyes glimmered, distant yet sharp.
"It's called Cursed Energy. A power born from negative emotions—hatred, fear, sorrow. Everyone produces it, but few can control it. If mastered, it can be shaped into techniques unique to the soul of the wielder."
The deck was quiet again. Even the sea seemed to hold its breath.
Whitebeard's frown deepened, but Xebec's grin split wider than ever.
"Cursed energy… Kuahahaha! Now that's the kind of madness I like! If you've really brought a power like that back from the Void Century, brat… then this kingdom's about to learn what despair tastes like."
The crew didn't cheer. They only shivered. Because whatever had just streaked across the waves toward Veyra… didn't feel like any power mortals should wield.
The first shadow streaked across the cobblestones of Veyra's marketplace and twisted violently, swelling, limbs splitting from its mass. In moments it became a giant spider, its legs jagged and glossy like obsidian, eyes glimmering like lanterns in the dark. It let out a shrill chitter that pierced the air.
Citizens screamed. Mothers clutched children. Men dropped baskets of food and bolted. Panic spread like fire.
And then the rest landed.
Each shadow convulsed and shifted into something different, something primal, something that touched the marrow of human phobia.
One became a towering serpent, scales slick and dripping venom, its tongue lashing with a hiss that rattled windows.
Another bloomed into a massive swarm of rats, their squeals echoing, bodies merging into a writhing tide of fur and teeth.
A third twisted into a ghastly clown, its grin stretching too wide, face painted in cracked white, laughter bubbling like broken glass.
Another birthed a shambling corpse, its jaw slack, eye sockets hollow but still leaking black ichor, arms reaching for anyone too slow to flee.
Others formed into grotesque hybrids: insects with human faces, eyeless wolves with mouths too large, birds with skeletal wings that scraped against stone.
The monsters didn't rush. They didn't attack with purpose. They simply walked. Their presence alone was poison enough.
The effect was immediate. Citizens collapsed in the streets, clutching their chests as heart attacks struck like lightning. Some clawed at their own throats, unable to handle the crushing weight of terror. Others, driven to despair, flung themselves from balconies, off walls, or into the rivers that cut through the city.
The few who tried to run were trampled underfoot by the panicked masses. Screams filled the air, rising in a chorus of hysteria as the monsters kept their slow, steady march through the city.
The cobblestones ran red within minutes.
What no citizen could see was what happened afterward.
From each fallen body, souls began to drift upward—pale, fragile wisps like glowing embers carried on the wind. They rose silently, unnoticed by the terrified survivors, and then all at once turned toward the sea.
Like streams of light, they flowed across the waves, carried back to the waiting ship.
On the deck, Jinx's body pulsed faintly as the souls reached him. His violet eyes glimmered like starlight against the night, his chest rising as if inhaling the unseen tide. Each soul sank into him, absorbed without resistance, and the air around him thickened.
The whispers returned, louder now, like the echoes of thousands. The crew shivered, some falling to their knees, but Xebec only laughed louder and Whitebeard only scowled deeper.
Jinx exhaled slowly, almost bored. Then he stood, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves, and finally turned to face the two giants of the deck.
"It's done." His voice was calm, empty, chilling. "We can raid now."
The ship stirred. Xebec threw his head back in manic laughter. Whitebeard gripped his bisento tighter, unease prickling at his instincts.
And in the distance, Kingdom Veyra burned—not from flame, but from the weight of nightmares made flesh.
Inside the high halls of Veyra's palace, panic struck nearly as violently as it had in the streets. Courtiers shouted over one another, papers scattered across the marble floor, and armored knights clattered through the corridors like ants in a nest under siege.
The king of Veyra, King Alistane Veyra III, sat slumped in his throne, his pale face slick with sweat. He was a man who had lived comfortably behind gilded walls, surrounded by luxuries, not war. Now, his hands trembled on the armrests, knuckles pale as the sounds of screams and distant crashes filtered into the chamber through stained glass.
"Your Majesty!" cried one minister, his robes half-open, face twisted with panic. "The city—there are monsters in the streets! Creatures we cannot kill! Our soldiers' blades pass right through them!"
Another staggered forward, clutching his chest. "It is sorcery! Some manner of cursed plague! We must abandon the city, Your Majesty!"
The king's voice cracked as he barked back. "Abandon it? Abandon my throne? Never! I am the crown of Veyra—"
But his words were drowned out by a thunderous boom. The stained glass rattled, dust fell from the ceiling, and everyone in the throne room froze.
Moments later, a captain of the guard burst into the chamber, his armor dented, his face pale. He fell to one knee before the throne, gasping for breath.
"Sire… forgive me, but… the creatures… they are not alone."
The king leaned forward, voice desperate. "Not alone? What do you mean?"
The captain's voice shook. "A ship. A pirate ship, sire. Off the coast. It bears the black sigil of Rocks D. Xebec."
The chamber went deathly silent. Even the panicked whispers died. The name carried weight even in Veyra's sheltered court. Stories of entire fleets broken, islands stripped bare, rulers humiliated—Xebec's reputation preceded him everywhere.
The king's lips trembled. "R-Rocks… Xebec?"
The captain nodded. "And worse… our scouts report he is not alone. With him are the Whitebeard, and…" He hesitated, as though the words themselves resisted leaving his mouth. "…a third. A child, they say, with eyes like violet fire. He summons the dead and commands shadows."
The king's breath caught, his hand tightening on his crown. The ministers erupted again in terrified debate—some shouting for surrender, others demanding the gates be sealed, others whispering prayers.
King Alistane rose shakily to his feet, his robes dragging across the marble. He raised a trembling hand for silence, but his voice cracked when he spoke.
"Ready… the palace guard. Lock down every gate. If Xebec dares to step into Veyra, he will face the might of—"
Another boom interrupted him—this one closer, right outside the palace walls.
The courtiers screamed. Soldiers drew their swords. And outside, shadows stretched long against the stained glass, as if something was already climbing the walls.
The Rocks pirates' longboats scraped against the sand, their boots thudding onto Veyra's shores. The air was thick with the sound of panic—screams rolling across the city in waves, broken only by the shrill chitter of monstrous phantoms moving through the streets.
Newgate and Xebec both stopped, their massive frames looming as they watched the horrors unfold. A spider the size of a cathedral clambered over rooftops. A tide of vermin swarmed down alleyways. A serpent coiled around the market square, its shadow blotting out the sun.
For a moment, even the legendary Rocks pirates were taken aback. But instinct pushed through the shock. Both men extended their Observation Haki, and what they felt left them momentarily still.
"…Illusions," Whitebeard rumbled, his deep voice cutting through the chaos.
Xebec sneered, though the grin never left his face. "Kuahahaha! They're not real. Just shadows. So what's the point, brat?"
He turned toward Jinx, who stood barefoot in the sand, violet eyes glowing faintly as his shadow writhed unnaturally beneath him.
Whitebeard tilted his head, curiosity sharp in his gaze. "Aye. If they can't attack, then what use are they?"
Jinx's expression didn't change. His voice came quiet, detached.
"These illusions aren't meant to kill. They're meant to break. Fear kills the weak faster than steel ever could. Their hearts give out, their minds snap, their will crumbles. Their bodies drop, and their souls…"
He looked at the burning city, violet eyes shimmering. "…their souls come to me. With enough… I can make them tangible."
As if to emphasize the point, Jinx raised one hand. His shadow trembled, and across the city skyline a towering tidal wave appeared, blotting out the horizon. It loomed impossibly high, crashing forward toward the walls of Veyra. The sound of rushing water boomed like thunder.
Xebec's grin widened, but Whitebeard's eyes sharpened in shock.
The wave struck—or at least seemed to. Walls cracked, towers shook, people screamed. Dozens collapsed instantly, clutching their chests, lifeless before the phantom water even touched them. The wave then dissolved into mist, revealing nothing more than cobblestones and corpses.
Whitebeard's Observation Haki tingled. He narrowed his eyes—and then he saw it.
From each fallen body, faint lights drifted upward. Souls, like flickering embers, streaming silently toward the shore. Toward Jinx.
Jinx inhaled deeply, his aura pulsing as the souls sank into him. His shadow stretched, writhing in hunger.
Newgate's massive hand tightened around the haft of his bisento. "I can… see them. Spirits. Moving toward you."
Jinx turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable.
"Ah. So you noticed."
Whitebeard frowned. "How?"
Jinx blinked slowly. "When I touched you, I poured a fragment of nature energy into your soul. It's beginning to stir things dormant inside you. One of Susanoo's gifts—sight beyond flesh. You can see spirits now… though only faintly. For now, it's weak."
Xebec threw his head back, laughter booming across the shore.
"Kuahahahaha! Illusions that kill, souls that feed you, and now you're waking god powers in Newgate! Brat, you're more valuable than a fleet of armies!"
Whitebeard said nothing, his eyes lingering on the faint trails of souls flowing into Jinx. A chill gnawed at the back of his mind.
If this was only the beginning… what would happen when those illusions became tangible?
"Enough waiting!" Xebec bellowed, his voice shaking the sands. His grin was wide, manic, his blood singing for chaos. "Crew! We raid now—burn it all to ash!"
A cheer erupted from the Rocks Pirates, dozens of hardened killers surging behind their captain. Muskets fired into the air, swords glinted in the sunlight, and laughter mingled with the terrified screams already spilling from the city.
Whitebeard swung his massive bisento onto his shoulder, his towering frame casting a shadow over the beach. His jaw tightened, his eyes hard. "Let's get this over with."
Jinx stood between them, quiet and small, his violet eyes shimmering as shadows curled at his feet. He whispered almost to himself.
"…Fun."
And then they moved.
Xebec was the first to strike. He charged across the sand, roaring with laughter, his cutlass gleaming in the sun. He swung it downward at the city gates with all the force of a storm, and the wood and iron exploded outward, shards raining down on the guards like hail. Soldiers screamed, some crushed beneath the wreckage, others hurled back like ragdolls.
Whitebeard followed, his bisento slamming into the stone wall. The air itself cracked. The quake spread outward, splitting the ramparts into jagged pieces. Entire sections of wall collapsed, sending dust and rubble cascading into the streets.
The Rocks Pirates surged through the breach like wolves, howling with bloodlust.
And Jinx walked behind them, silent, his shadow stretching ahead like a serpent entering a burrow.
As the first wave of soldiers rushed to defend the capital, Jinx tilted his head, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. His voice whispered, faint but sharp:
"Echoes of Madness."
The world twisted.
Soldiers staggered mid-charge, their vision splintering. To some, their comrades suddenly appeared as twisted monsters with gnashing teeth. To others, the streets elongated into endless corridors, the ground itself whispering blasphemies. Men clutched their heads, screaming as they struck each other down, convinced they were slaying demons.
One soldier dropped his sword and tore at his own armor, shrieking that it was devouring him. Another collapsed, convulsing, eyes rolling back as he clawed at invisible spiders crawling across his skin.
Xebec glanced back, his grin splitting wider. "Kuahahahaha! Look at them squirm! Brat, you're my favorite kind of nightmare!"
'
Jinx drew Kuroshigai no Shōzetsu in one fluid motion, his stance lowering. His violet eyes gleamed under the storm-darkened sky.
"First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."
A crescent slash shimmered across the air, birthing dozens of chaotic blades of moonlight. They cut through the enemy ranks, leaving arcs of frozen blood glittering like stars.
"Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing." Three more crescent arcs whirled outward, their trails scattering moonlight shards that sliced soldiers into ribbons.
The Rocks crew, hardened killers though they were, paused long enough to gape at the artistry of it. The boy was a dancer of death, his blade a brush painting nightmares across the canvas of Veyra.
But Jinx wasn't finished.
As the battle spilled deeper into the city, he stopped. Slowly, he knelt, one palm pressing flat against the cobblestones. The air grew heavy, thick, cold enough to bite through armor.
His voice was soft, almost tender.
"Ice Age."
A shockwave of frost burst outward. The temperature plummeted instantly, breath crystallizing in the air. In moments, a fourth of the kingdom froze solid—streets, houses, soldiers, and civilians alike encased in thick black ice.
Buildings cracked under the sudden frost, their supports shattering as they collapsed into frozen rubble. Screams died mid-breath, frozen in throats, leaving statues of fear trapped in ice.
From above, it looked as if a great black hand had gripped part of the city and turned it into a frozen wasteland.
Whitebeard stopped mid-swing, his eyes narrowing in shock. Even Xebec's laughter faltered for a breath, replaced by a flicker of awe.
"…Kuahahaha! Brat, you're colder than death itself!" Xebec roared finally, throwing his head back.
The Rocks Pirates spread like fire through the streets, looting, killing, setting homes ablaze. Gold and silver were ripped from noble estates, and terrified citizens were dragged screaming into the night.
Whitebeard tore through the palace guard like paper, each swing of his bisento cracking the earth itself. Xebec stormed through the avenues like a hurricane, his blade dripping with blood, his laughter echoing through the city.
And Jinx drifted behind them, his illusions spiraling outward.
To one man, he appeared as a child of light, promising salvation. To another, as a towering beast of ice. To all, he was a harbinger whose very gaze dragged their sanity down into the abyss.
By nightfall, the streets of Veyra were painted in crimson and black ice. Smoke curled from burning districts, and the wails of survivors mingled with the crackling of fire.
Xebec sheathed his blade with a flourish, his grin unbroken. "The palace is all that's left. Let's rip their king off his throne."
Whitebeard said nothing, his eyes lingering once more on Jinx. The boy's violet gaze was fixed forward, calm, unreadable. Shadows still swirled around him, whispering with the voices of the dead.
The three pillars of the Rocks Pirates moved together through the corpse-littered streets, heading toward the palace gates.
Behind them, Kingdom Veyra was no more—it was a graveyard of ice, flame, and madness.
The grand doors of Veyra's palace burst open with a deafening crash, splinters flying across the marble floor. Xebec strode in first, laughter booming, his presence alone making courtiers and nobles collapse to their knees. Whitebeard followed, silent but immense, his bisento resting easily against his shoulder.
Behind them, Jinx walked quietly, shadows trailing along the polished floor, his violet eyes reflecting the light of the candelabras like distant stars.
At the foot of the throne, the royal family huddled—King Alistane pale as chalk, the queen clutching her children, ministers weeping behind them. Around them stood the palace guard, blades drawn, their armor rattling more from fear than readiness.
But one man stepped forward.
The General of Veyra, clad in black lacquered armor, his hand resting firmly on the hilt of his katana. His gaze was steady, his presence like a wall against the tide of fear. Even Xebec's grin flickered for a moment, amused by the man's audacity.
"Rocks D. Xebec," the general barked, his voice carrying in the vaulted chamber. "This is as far as you go. By my blade, you will not touch the king."
Xebec laughed, delighted. "Kuahahaha! Finally! A dog with teeth!"
The general unsheathed his blade with a hiss of steel—
But before his arm even finished the motion, Jinx moved.
A blur of motion. A soft whisper of steel.
And then silence.
Jinx appeared in front of the general, his own katana still glowing faintly from the swing. For a heartbeat, nothing seemed to happen. The general's eyes widened in confusion, his breath caught in his throat.
Then the pain struck.
His right arm—still clutching the hilt of his blade—slid cleanly from his shoulder and fell to the marble floor with a wet thud. Blood sprayed across the tiles, crimson staining the pale stone.
The general's scream tore through the hall, raw and primal, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
The courtiers gasped, the queen sobbed, the children wailed. Even the king staggered back into his throne, face drained of all color.
Jinx, calm and silent, bent down and picked up the fallen katana.
The weapon was heavy in his hands, the steel dark, gleaming with an otherworldly presence. At first glance it resembled the legendary Enma, the blade of Kozuki Oden—but the purple tint of that sword was gone. In its place was a black so deep it seemed to swallow the light around it, veins of faint silver running through the steel like cracks in the night sky.
Jinx's violet eyes narrowed as he felt the sword's pull. The weight of its will pressed against his palm—an undeniable pressure, a test of worth. This was no ordinary weapon.
It was a Supreme Grade Blade.
Xebec's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. "Kuahahaha! Would you look at that? The brat finds treasures even kings couldn't flaunt!"
Whitebeard's gaze lingered, his frown deep. He could feel the aura rolling from the blade, the same way he felt the ocean before a quake.
The general collapsed to his knees, clutching the bloody stump of his arm, eyes glazed with shock. His strength, his defiance—it meant nothing in the face of Jinx's casual cruelty.
The boy stood over him, calm, detached, holding the Supreme Grade blade as if it had always belonged to him.
The royal family watched in horror. Ministers fainted, servants prayed under their breath. The queen's sobs filled the silence.
And the king, once proud and arrogant, was pale and trembling, his crown slipping askew as he whispered:
"…What… what is that boy?"
Xebec roared with laughter, stepping forward and planting his blade into the marble floor. "That, your majesty… is my left hand. Nerona Jinx."
The name rang in the hall like a curse.
And as Jinx's violet eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight, his shadow reached forward across the marble, stretching toward the throne like death itself.
The general knelt in agony, blood pooling beneath him. But his men still stood. Dozens of palace guards, armored in steel and desperation, raised their blades. Their faces were pale, their breaths uneven, yet they roared all the same.
"For the King!"
They surged forward.
Jinx's violet eyes narrowed, calm and unblinking. He adjusted his grip on the newly claimed katana. The blade hummed in his hand, its blackened steel alive, hungry. He whispered softly:
"…Let's test you."
"First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."
The katana flashed. A crescent arc of black steel swept outward, birthing dozens of chaotic moonlight blades that filled the hall. Armor split. Helmets clattered. Men fell in pieces before they realized they'd been cut.
Blood sprayed across the white marble, splattering the gilded throne. The queen screamed, clutching her children tighter.
But Jinx wasn't finished. His movements were fluid, almost lazy, yet impossibly fast.
"Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing." Three sweeping arcs shimmered, scattering luminous crescent slashes that ricocheted across the chamber. The walls cracked, curtains shredded, guards were diced like paper.
"Third Form: Loathsome Moon, Chains." Two massive crescents tore the air apart, followed by a storm of smaller blades that ripped through the charging soldiers like a cyclone.
Every strike was art—graceful, merciless, inevitable.
Those who survived the initial cuts staggered back, clutching their heads. The whispers had returned, filling the chamber with voices that weren't there.
One guard screamed, dropping his weapon, convinced his fellow soldier was a monster lunging at him. Another clawed his own face, shrieking that insects crawled beneath his skin. A third fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, his sword clattering uselessly to the floor.
"Echoes of Madness," Jinx whispered. His illusions laced into their minds like hooks, dragging them deeper into despair.
Men turned on each other. Some rammed swords into their own throats. Others simply collapsed, their sanity fractured beyond repair.
The katana pulsed in Jinx's grip, drinking in the carnage. He could feel its will pressing against him—testing him, demanding he prove himself worthy.
He tightened his grip. "Satisfied yet?"
The blade shimmered, its dark steel glowing faintly as if in answer. A connection clicked deeper, and Jinx felt the weapon's acceptance. It was his now—body, soul, and death.
The last of the guards fell, silence pressing thick over the chamber. Only the sobs of the queen and the shallow breath of the king remained.
Jinx exhaled slowly, sliding the blade back into its sheath. Then he crouched, one hand pressing against the marble floor. His shadow stretched, dark and heavy, swallowing the light of the candelabras.
At first, the courtiers thought it was another illusion. The air shimmered, the ground cracked, and the shadow rose upward, taking shape.
A low growl rumbled through the throne room.
A colossal wolf—real, not illusion—manifested. Fifteen meters tall, its fur a shifting blend of black and violet, its eyes blazing like burning stars. Frost seeped from its paws, freezing the marble tiles, its breath rolling from its jaws in waves of mist.
The entire palace shook as it stood fully formed, towering over throne and crown alike.
Xebec's eyes widened, his grin twitching with rare surprise. "Kuahahaha… That's no trick, is it? That thing's real."
Whitebeard's jaw tightened. His Observation Haki confirmed it—the beast had a presence, a pulse, a soul of its own. He muttered, voice low and uneasy: "…He made it real."
The wolf tilted its head back and howled, a bone-shaking sound that rattled the stained glass windows until they shattered into glittering shards. Courtiers collapsed in terror, their ears bleeding. The royal children fainted in their mother's arms.
The king sank to his knees, crown slipping from his head, his voice breaking into a hoarse whisper. "Monster… he's a monster…"
Jinx stood beneath the shadow of his creation, violet eyes glowing faintly. He looked calm, almost bored, as if none of this mattered to him.
His voice was soft, but it carried through the throne room like a blade pressed to the throat.
"Kingdoms fall. Souls rise. This is all there ever was."
The wolf lowered its massive head, fangs bared, its breath rolling across the throne like winter's death.
Xebec threw back his head, roaring with laughter. "Kuahahahahaha! Perfect! With me, Whitebeard, and the brat—no kingdom, no empire, no World Government will stand!"
Whitebeard didn't laugh. His gaze lingered on Jinx—the boy with the violet eyes, the cursed blade, the wolf born of shadow. He felt the unease again, the whisper that this child was not merely an ally but something far greater, far darker.
And in that throne room of shattered glass and frozen blood, Kingdom Veyra ceased to exist.
Xebec's boots thudded across the blood-slick marble. He towered over the trembling king, who had collapsed to his knees at the foot of his throne. With one massive hand, Xebec seized the monarch by the collar, hauling him into the air like a child's doll.
The king's crown slipped free, clattering across the stone floor. His feet kicked helplessly, his face blotched with terror.
"Kuahahaha!" Xebec's laughter cracked through the throne room, booming off the vaulted ceiling. "Look at you! King of Veyra, reduced to a quivering rat in your own palace!"
He shook the man violently, making him cry out, then dragged him closer to the shattered throne. With a cruel shove, Xebec forced the king's chin up so his eyes couldn't look anywhere else but forward.
"You're gonna watch, Your Majesty," he sneered. "You're gonna watch the end of your line, your court, your legacy. Every scrap of it swallowed before your eyes."
Jinx stood silent, his small figure calm in the center of chaos. His violet eyes glowed faintly as he raised one pale hand. His voice was soft, but it cut through the chamber like a blade.
"Eat."
The colossal wolf growled, its breath a rolling mist that chilled the air to biting cold. It lowered its massive head toward the huddled royals.
The queen shrieked, pulling her children tight against her. Ministers scrambled backward, tripping over each other, robes tangling in panic. Their cries of prayer and pleas for mercy filled the chamber.
The wolf's jaws opened.
One snap.
A minister vanished whole, his scream cutting off in a wet crunch. Blood splattered across the tiles, staining the gilded pillars.
Another snap.
The queen's sobs turned into a shriek as the wolf's fangs tore through two more ministers in a single bite, their bodies mangled and tossed aside. Courtiers collapsed in terror, too petrified to move.
Then the wolf's gaze turned back to the royal family.
The queen clutched her children tighter, screaming, "Please, no!"
The wolf lunged.
Its fangs engulfed the queen and her children in one terrible bite. Their cries were silenced instantly, swallowed into the abyss of its maw. Blood spilled across the throne's steps, steam rising as it met the frost creeping from the beast's paws.
The ministers who remained broke completely, fainting, convulsing, or clawing at their faces in despair. The wolf devoured them one by one, each bite echoing through the chamber until the air stank of blood and iron.
Through it all, Xebec kept the king's head locked forward, forcing his eyes open with cruel fingers.
"Don't blink, Your Majesty!" he roared with laughter, his face twisted in manic joy. "Watch your kingdom fall to fangs and shadows! Watch your bloodline end as a meal!"
The king thrashed, tears streaking his cheeks, his voice breaking in a hoarse scream. "No! Noooo!"
But there was no escape. The wolf's feast was thorough, merciless, and final. By the time its jaws closed at last, nothing remained of the royal line or their court but scraps of bloodied silk and the echoes of screams.
The king sobbed, collapsing in Xebec's grip, his body trembling like a broken reed.
The wolf raised its head, howling, its voice rattling the shattered glass and frozen marble. Jinx lowered his hand, his violet eyes calm as ever. The beast obeyed, settling beside him like a hound at its master's heel, its fangs dripping with royal blood.
Xebec dropped the king at Jinx's feet, sneering. The monarch crawled weakly backward, but his eyes never left the wolf.
Whitebeard stood silent, his gaze locked on Jinx. He had seen carnage, conquest, and death—but never a boy command it with such detachment, such eerie calm. Not even Xebec unnerved him like this.
And as the king wept on the palace floor, Jinx turned his violet gaze upon him, shadows whispering at his heels.
"Kingdoms fall," he said softly. "Souls rise."
The wolf growled, a low rumble that shook the stone.
And in that moment, Veyra's legacy ended—swallowed whole by shadow, ice, and madness.
The king crawled across the blood-slick marble, his crown long lost, his robes torn and heavy with sweat. He babbled broken prayers, begging gods that no longer answered.
Xebec's massive boot slammed down on his back, pinning him to the stone. The monarch screamed, but the sound was drowned out by Xebec's laughter.
"Kuahahaha! Look at you now, 'Your Majesty!'" Xebec snarled, spittle flying as his grin widened. "You ruled a kingdom—yet here you are, crawling like a worm. And worms don't get to keep their heads."
He seized the king by the hair and dragged him upright, forcing his broken body onto his knees before the shattered throne. The surviving courtiers—too petrified to move—watched with pale faces, tears streaking down their cheeks.
"This is your king," Xebec roared, his voice echoing through the hall. "This is what happens to rulers who think their walls, their soldiers, their crowns can save them from Rocks D. Xebec!"
He drew his cutlass in a single savage motion.
The king's final scream cut short as Xebec swung. His head rolled across the marble, crownless and bloody, before thudding to a stop at the foot of the throne.
The courtiers broke into wails, collapsing to their knees.
Xebec raised the severed head high, his grin splitting wide. "Remember this day! Kingdoms are ash, kings are meat, and only the strong rule the seas!"
While Xebec reveled in his spectacle, Jinx moved with calm detachment.
The souls of the queen, the children, the ministers, and now the king drifted upward—faint glowing wisps invisible to most eyes. But Jinx saw them all. He raised his hand, violet eyes shimmering, and the shadows around him stretched like hungry tendrils.
The souls were pulled toward him, absorbed into his body one by one. Each whisper of light sank into him, and the wolf beside him stirred, its body pulsing as if drinking in the essence of the dead.
The beast's fur darkened, its eyes glowed brighter, and frost spread deeper across the marble. It grew larger—its fangs lengthening, its claws digging trenches into the stone floor.
Whitebeard, watching silently, tightened his grip on his bisento. His Observation Haki screamed at him: the wolf wasn't just a construct. It now carried pieces of those it had devoured—souls bound into its form.
Xebec roared with laughter at the sight, delighted. "Kuahahahaha! The brat's making monsters out of kings! Tell me, boy—how many more will you feed it? How many kingdoms will you burn just to make that thing grow?"
Jinx didn't answer. He placed his hand on the wolf's muzzle. The beast bowed its massive head, obedient, its breath freezing the corpses scattered across the floor.
The royal line was gone. The ministers were gone. The king's severed head lay forgotten beside the throne. And in their place stood Rocks D. Xebec, Whitebeard, and Jinx—the three pillars of destruction.
Xebec bathed in the spectacle. Whitebeard wrestled with unease. And Jinx, calm and silent, harvested the last of the souls, his shadow whispering with a thousand voices.
The wolf howled again, shattering the stained glass that still clung to the palace windows. Its voice echoed over the city, carrying with it the final death knell of Kingdom Veyra.
By dawn, there would be no crown, no court, no legacy. Only ash, ice, and shadows.
And on that night, the name of Nerona Jinx was whispered for the first time as one of Rocks D. Xebec's hands—a child of death whose monsters were real.
The throne room still reeked of blood and frost. Xebec was laughing, holding the king's severed head like a trophy. Whitebeard leaned against his bisento, eyes still on Jinx and the massive wolf crouched at his side. The boy's violet gaze was fixed on the glowing wisps of souls drifting into him.
The heavy doors slammed open. One of the Rocks crew stumbled in, face pale, blood running down his forehead.
"Captain! Marines! They're here!"
Xebec's grin froze for a second. His eyes cut sharp. "What Marines?"
The crewman swallowed hard. "T-Three Vice Admirals, sir… all at once."
The room went still. Even the wolf let out a low growl that rattled the windows.
Whitebeard's brow furrowed, his tone sharp. "Three Vice Admirals, huh? That ain't no patrol. They knew we were coming."
Xebec barked a laugh, throwing the king's head to the floor with a wet smack. "Kuahahaha! So the rats finally send some dogs with bite! Perfect! I was getting bored of slaughtering lambs!"
He cracked his knuckles, eyes alight with bloodlust.
Whitebeard, calmer but just as ready, rested his bisento against his shoulder. "Don't underestimate 'em, old man. Three Vice Admirals ain't small fry. They'll have fleets behind 'em."
Xebec sneered, licking his teeth. "Good. Let 'em come. The world needs a reminder that the Rocks Pirates bow to no one!"
All eyes turned to Jinx. The boy stood silent, shadows curling around his feet, the wolf's breath frosting the air. He blinked slowly, then tilted his head.
"…More souls."
That one whisper sent a shiver through the surviving courtiers.
Xebec grinned wider, pointing his blade toward the shattered doors. "Kuahahaha! You hear that, Whitebeard? The brat's hungry. Let's feed him Vice Admirals."
Whitebeard gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Tch. You're insane… but fine. Let's see if the Marines can even step foot in this frozen graveyard."
Jinx laid his hand on the wolf's muzzle, eyes glowing faintly. "They'll come. We'll bury them."
The wolf growled, echoing the promise.