[Brain-Brain Fruit — Consumption Site]
"Sa-tan! Sa-tan! Sa-tan!"
"Show yourself, Lord Satan!"
"Destroy the monsters who enslave and exploit us!"
A cracked stone cellar.
A ring of black-robed figures knelt around a pentagram, chanting their throats raw.
Outside, the sky hung dim and bruised; thunder worried the clouds.
A lance of black lightning split the roof, speared the floor, and slammed into the circle.
The whole building shuddered. Soot boiled up from the center of the magic array.
The cultists looked up, hearts hammering, eyes glittering with feverish hope.
From within the smoke…a silhouette flickered into shape.
"L-Lord Satan? Is that you? Did you hear our prayer?"
Demon—or rather, Dimon—blinked. His eyes swept the ruined chamber, brows pinching.
Where… is this? Wasn't I just crossing the street before a truck played bowling with me? How did I end up at… a cosplay basement?
Keeping his face calm, he asked, "Where am I?"
It did look exactly like an evil summoning ritual.
"This is the mortal world!" cried the oldest among them, kneeling with textbook posture and piety so perfect it could be used for demonstrations. "Lord Satan, please help us kill the Celestial Dragons and the Marines!"
Dimon's expression twitched. Celestial Dragons? Marines?
Don't tell me… this is the world of One Piece. Did I transmigrate?
"The Celestial Dragons," the elder rasped, teeth grinding. "One year ago, those so-called World Nobles set their eyes on our country. They hosted a 'killing contest' on our island. Everyone died. Only we survived by sheer luck."
…Yup. One Piece.
And a very dangerous one at that.
Pirates ravaging the seas; Celestial Dragons enslaving the world; Marines serving as the fangs of the regime…
For a normal transmigrator, living long without a cheat was… optimistic.
Become a pirate? The Marines will dog-pile you; best case, you get a nice prison diet the moment your name trends.
Join the Marines? Congratulations, you get deployed against monsters; one unlucky assignment and the ocean keeps your bones.
Which brings us to the important part—where's my cheat?
A translucent panel only he could see slid across his vision:
[Summoned as a Demon. Matching system…]
[Match complete]
Demon Points: 100
Demon Skill I: Brew Wine of Immortality
Demon Skill II: Locked
Demon Skill III: Locked
Dimon scratched his cheek internally. Demons? In One Piece?
He knew about Devil Fruits, sure, but literal demons? Canon gets fuzzy there.
But the magic array was very real, and the five-pointed star was the kind certain countries supposedly used to call "demons."
"Lord Satan" stared him down—oh wait, that was their reflection of him. The elder suddenly understood and flattened himself to the floor, voice shaking with zeal.
"Lord Satan, we offer our lives. Please avenge us!"
Slow down. He'd only just received the cheat; he didn't even know how it worked yet, let alone how to exact cosmic vengeance.
"What year is it?" Dimon said mildly. "The last time I was summoned, it was… Joy Boy's era."
When you're out in the world, identity is whatever you can sell with a straight face. If they summoned a demon, then today he was a demon.
"Great Lord Satan," the elder replied at once, "it is Sea Circle Calendar 1482."
1482… Dimon rifled his memory. Nobody memorizes dates when reading the manga, but there was one anchor: Luffy sets sail in 1520. So this was 38 years before that.
And 38 years before… something enormous happened.
God Valley.
That incident was in 1484, thirty-eight years before the "present" of the main story. The day the Rocks Pirates shattered, their monsters scattering—three of whom would later become three of the Four Emperors.
"So where are we?" he asked.
"Hachinosu," the old man said honestly. "Beehive Island."
…The Rocks Pirates' base.
Dimon's lips pulled into a silent, eloquent line. Transmigrated to the most volatile island, in the most explosive era. Peak 'hard mode' start.
"I understand your wish. Withdraw for now."
He flicked his hand, shooing them off. The elder hesitated, then seemed to grasp something, knocked his head to the floor, and shepherded everyone out.
Silence swept in when their footsteps faded.
Kill the Celestial Dragons? With what army? At the moment, Dimon was more interested in the system that might keep him alive long enough to even dream of that.
Demon Skill I: Brew Wine of Immortality
Wine of Immortality: Anyone who drinks it becomes ageless and undying. No matter the injury—even dismemberment or total destruction—the body will regenerate.
Cost: 100 Demon Points per bottle.
Dimon's eyes brightened. Undying, huh?
He'd seen something like this in a novel or anime before. But at the bottom of the description, tiny text winked at him—easy to miss unless you squinted.
Side Effect 1: If the demon places his right hand on the immortal's head and thinks "devour," he can absorb their body, experience, and knowledge. This is the only way to kill an immortal.
Side Effect 2: Among immortals, only true names may be used in conversation.
"…That's a little terrifying."
Grant someone immortality, then devour them to harvest their strength and knowledge.
His rank might be "demon," but his body was a regular human's.
What if they resist mid-devour?
It required right-hand contact on the head—the sort of move that screams "hey, please fight me."
Conclusion: if I ever devour, I'd better make sure they can't resist. At all.
Immortal didn't mean limitless stamina. People still got exhausted after a brutal fight; regeneration consumed energy and focus; and the worse the injury, the longer the rebuild.
"Which leaves one last problem…" He exhaled. "Wine needs Demon Points. Where do I get points?"
A little more digging through menus, and the answer clicked.
There was only one way:
Devour Devil Fruits.
"…Figures." Points wouldn't come easy. He had 100 now—just enough for one bottle. He'd have to spend it wisely.
He called the skill.
Black lightning danced between his hands. Pitch-dark energy curled and condensed into a single, elegant bottle of liquor.
He popped the wooden stopper. A warm, fragrant note teased his nose—rich, mellow, almost dangerously inviting.
Dimon tilted the bottle, considering.
"Just a sip…?"
—The cellar's door hinges sighed.
Someone else was still here.
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