While the world of pirates was beginning to tremble with unrest, Bane had locked himself indoors for several days, refusing to even set foot outside.
The night he'd stolen the Yami Yami no Mi, Bane had thought long and hard… and eventually made his decision.
He ate the Devil Fruit.
There was only one reason: he wanted power.
Whether it was the mysterious Dimensional Gate within his body or the increasingly chaotic state of this world, one thing was clear—power was the only way to survive. To thrive. To dominate.
And despite the old rumor that Devil Fruits tasted like sewage—turns out, that was a lie.
Bane had braced himself for the worst. He'd spent half an hour psyching himself up with motivational mantras like "a man must endure suffering to achieve greatness" and "pain is the price of power."
But when he actually took a bite?
Sweet. Juicy. Delicious.The thing tasted amazing—like biting into a perfectly ripe fruit, overflowing with nectar. It was way better than expected. And since he'd already committed, Bane didn't stop until he'd devoured the whole thing—an entire fruit the size of a watermelon.
And the result?
Just as he hoped, the Yami Yami no Mi's powers worked—even outside the One Piece world.
This confirmed one major fact: his current world was compatible with external forces. Whatever universe he was in, it had the capacity to integrate powers from other dimensions.
From the moment he consumed the fruit, Bane could feel it—a tide of darkness coursing through his veins, overflowing, seething, uncontainable.
He had become the embodiment of darkness.
…Or so it felt.
In truth, it was mostly the illusion of power. The Yami Yami no Mi was indeed formidable, and the dark energy within him felt endless, but after the initial high faded, Bane realized something critical:
It consumed stamina.
The fruit didn't just hand you strength. It demanded fuel—your own physical energy.
It was like having access to a massive reservoir, but only being able to draw from it with a faucet. And the faucet? That was his body. The stronger his body, the more of the fruit's power he could unleash.
"No wonder people say it's the user who makes the fruit—not the other way around," Bane mused."Just look at the Marine Admirals. Even without their Logia powers, they'd still be monsters on the sea."
The Devil Fruit simply opened a door. Whether you could walk through it—or climb all the way to the top—was up to you.
You had to rely on yourself.
Now Bane sat cross-legged on his battered old couch, focused, dark energy flowing like liquid shadows between his fingers. The floor beneath him slowly turned pitch black, stained by the creeping darkness seeping from his aura.
When the darkness completely engulfed the floor, the coffee table began to sink—slowly swallowed by a void of infinite depth.
The moment it disappeared into the black abyss, Bane clenched his fist.
In an instant, the inky darkness contracted, coalescing into a hovering orb of dense, swirling energy—radiating a suffocating aura of void and gravity.
Then, with a snap of his fingers, the orb dispersed. From within the collapsing shadows, wood shards and splinters—remnants of the coffee table—clattered back onto the ruined floor.
Bane stood and cracked his neck, finally satisfied.
"After a few days locked up in here, I've finally got a handle on the Yami Yami no Mi," he muttered with a smile.
His apartment, however, looked like it had been struck by a hurricane. Worse than that pool hall he'd wrecked the other week.
That was thanks to his complete lack of control during the first 48 hours.
It was like suddenly growing a tail—you knew it was part of you, but you had no idea how to use it. Every movement was awkward. Chaotic.
The morning after eating the fruit, Bane farted in his sleep—and the resulting black mist blew his bed to pieces.
Ever since, he'd refused to step outside. God forbid he sneeze on the street and accidentally vaporize a bus.
He'd go viral. And not in a good way.
But now? He had control. At least, enough of it. And with that came the next step:
Time to get out and take a look around.
His original plans might be worthless now—after all, with the power to open Dimensional Gates, his options had multiplied. If things didn't work out in this world, maybe he'd just move permanently to the One Piece world and raise hell there.
Either way, for the first time since arriving here…
He felt confident.
The streets of New Dall looked the same as always. Despite the Empire's ongoing westward campaign, it seemed the ripple effects hadn't reached this part of the city yet.
Bane picked up a newspaper from a vendor, then casually strolled into Sphinx Street. Familiar territory.
Plenty of lackeys along the way greeted him with respectful nods and cries of "Boss!"—but Bane, too engrossed in the paper, barely acknowledged them.
He turned a corner and entered a familiar fight club—a gritty underground gym with a reputation for producing street-level bruisers.
He slapped the newspaper on the counter and sighed. "Boring. Not a single interesting headline."
"Hey, Bane! Been a few days. Don't tell me someone cracked your skull again?"From the sparring platform, a giant of a man—easily over 2.5 meters tall—grinned and called out.
Lighting a cigar, Bane smirked."You want me to crack yours this time?"
"Haha! Looks like you're back in shape. Wanna go a round for real?"
"Pass. Where's Frant?"
"Right here."
A thin, sharp-eyed man emerged from a door behind the bar, carrying a sleek, high-security briefcase. He sat across from Bane and didn't wait for small talk.
"I've got something new. Want to take a look?"
"What kind of new thing?" Bane raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Frant was one of New Dall's top black market dealers. Always had something weird up his sleeve. Bane had helped him out of a few sticky spots in the past, so they had a kind of... professional camaraderie.
More importantly, Frant was well-connected. Occasionally, Bane dropped by to pick up off-record intel and rumors—the kind of street gossip that kept you alive in the underworld.
"Prepare to be amazed," Frant said smugly, popping open the case.
Inside was a single object: a biological injection capsule, filled with a crimson liquid that looked disturbingly like blood.
"Is that… blood?" Bane asked flatly.
"Technically? No. It's a specialized enhancement serum. But more precisely—it's called an Rc Cell sample."
The moment he heard that name, Bane paused.
It sounded familiar.
"…Let me guess," he said slowly. "Another off-world import?"
"Of course!" Frant said proudly. "And you're a physical-type ability user, right? I figured this might suit you. Picked it up on the black market. Thought I'd gift it to you."
Bane raised an unimpressed brow."Yeah, right. Since when do you give out freebies? What's the catch?"
In the underworld, there was no such thing as charity. If Frant was still alive and thriving in this business, it meant he wasn't exactly a saint.
Frant didn't even deny it. He just grinned.
"Power always comes with a price."
Bane tapped his fingers on the table and exhaled a puff of smoke."Cut the crap."
Frant glanced around, then leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Remember the Dimensional Gate that opened in Vandir City half a year ago?"
"Yeah… the papers mentioned something recently. Said there's a serial killer there now. Cannibalistic psycho."
Mid-sentence, Bane froze.
Rc Cells.
Frant hadn't noticed the change in Bane's expression. He kept whispering,"Official story said the gate was unstable. But the truth is, it was breached. The Osaria Family, who control Vandir, kept it quiet. Wanted to hoard the spoils. They extracted this stuff—Rc Cells—from the other side. Some species called… Ghouls or something."
"So the side effect is cannibalism?" Bane shot him a look.
"That was the early prototype," Frant said with a shrug. "The Osarias spent half a year refining it. This version has no major side effects. No flesh-eating. Worst case? You'll get really hungry."