The village chief had taken blow after blow. His energy was no longer fully under his control, and that eerie, twisted power inside him—meant to resist Buggy's Conqueror's Haki—was failing to restore him.
His eyes were now filled with despair. He knew that if things continued like this, death was inevitable.
As Buggy's relentless attacks and the constant interference from the sacrifices piled on, the chief's body began to undergo dramatic changes. His massive frame slowly shrank, the energy within him leaking away bit by bit, and his resistance against Buggy's Haki weakened steadily.
Seeing this, Buggy realized his opponent couldn't hold on much longer. Seizing the opening as the chief's body returned to its normal size, he lunged in and thrust Flame Sun straight into the old man's chest. This time, there was no energy shield to stop him—the blade pierced clean through the chief's heart.
Buggy immediately retreated a safe distance, wary of any kind of desperate counterattack or suicidal move. After all, the bizarre powers of the Sacrifice Fruit might very well include such tricks.
But with that strike, it was as though the chief's wellspring of strength had been completely drained. His body collapsed to the ground like a pile of mud.
Though not yet dead, his eyes locked on Buggy's, filled with despair and burning hatred. In a hoarse, venomous voice, he hissed:
"Brat… someone will avenge me…"
Before he could finish his last words, his pupils suddenly dilated. The light in his eyes vanished, his spirit completely extinguished. The village chief was dead.
At that very moment, the sacrificial space itself began to collapse like shattered glass. Chunks of space broke away and fell into nothingness, with great cracks spreading everywhere.
Buggy spared the corpse no further thought. The collapsing space was proof enough that the Fruit user was truly dead. Wasting time was pointless.
He darted toward the crack in space that the villagers' sacrifices had opened earlier. Escape was his only goal now.
Even if the collapse didn't necessarily mean certain death, he wasn't about to gamble with unknown risks. With the rift already open, slipping through it was the safest choice.
In the final moments before the sacrificial space imploded, Buggy split his body apart with the Chop-Chop Fruit and slipped cleanly through the rift.
As he emerged, he couldn't resist glancing back—only to see the entire dimension, along with the chief's body, dissolve into nothingness. A moment later, eternal darkness swallowed it whole.
Buggy let out a breath, realizing his arrogance. He had underestimated the destructive power of a collapsing space. Had he not escaped in time, he would have perished with it.
Behind him, the rift shrank to a single point of light before vanishing completely into the void.
Buggy touched the bulge at his chest and allowed a smile to spread across his bloodstained face.
"Captain, you're hurt—please, let me treat you!"
It was obvious to anyone that Buggy was injured. His clothes were torn to rags, his skin bruised and bloodied, his body stained crimson. Most of the blood was the chief's, but plenty was his own—he had taken no small amount of punishment.
The crew, worried sick, didn't immediately press him about what had happened inside. Instead, they stood close by while Hogback treated their captain's wounds.
The surface injuries were quickly dealt with, but the internal damage was more troublesome. Hogback gave him medicine to stabilize his condition, though healing would take time.
Once Buggy was patched up, the questions finally came.
"Captain… that old man—the village chief. Did you finish him?"
"The chief is dead. That space collapsed because of his death."
"And the… thing? Did you get it?"
In response, Buggy drew out the object he had kept pressed against his chest.
In his hand was a strange fruit shaped like a pineapple—dark gray in color, crisscrossed with iridescent patterns.
This was their greatest prize: the Paramecia—Sacrifice Fruit, the very one the chief had wielded.
Obtaining it hadn't been a matter of luck. Buggy had planned it. Before entering the sacrificial space, he had tucked a spare fruit against his body.
He had reasoned that since the Sacrifice Space was a separate dimension, and since Devil Fruits reincarnate into a nearby fruit when their user dies, carrying one in with him would greatly increase the odds of capturing it. Of course, failure was possible—but the risk was negligible, and the reward enormous.
So he had entered with the fruit hidden on him, under the puzzled stares of his crew, explaining just enough of his gamble for them to understand.
Now, holding the Sacrifice Fruit in his hand, Buggy found himself torn. Who should he entrust it to?
Weevil, by blood, was family. Strong, loyal, and without a Fruit ability—he seemed the most natural choice. But his raw power and swordsmanship were already monstrous, and his lack of intelligence made him ill-suited for a complex Fruit like this. Worse, he would lose his ability to swim, wasting the potential of a truly powerful ability.
Dadi, the sniper? A poor match—the Fruit would distract him from his natural talent and be wasted.
Kuro? Buggy had high expectations for him. But this Fruit didn't suit his fighting style. Buggy envisioned him either as a physical powerhouse or as a Zoan user who could grow stronger through an animal ability. The Sacrifice Fruit wasn't a fit.
Hogback? Out of the question. A doctor needed a fruit aligned with medicine, not this one.
That left only Jessica, the ship's cook. She was weak, practically useless in combat. Outside her culinary skills, Buggy doubted she could be trained further.
But if Jessica ate this Fruit, she would instantly gain strength and self-protection, no longer forced to cower and hide during every battle. Her survival chances would soar, and with time, she could even grow into a formidable ability user.
For the first time, Buggy looked at her not just as a cook—but as someone who might one day wield power equal to her place at his table.