A hush lay over the chart room of the Saber of Xebec.
Some stood, some lounged, but every eye was glued to the table—five Devil Fruits, each a curlicue of impossible patterns.
"I've seen the old Fruit Compendium," Rocks said, tilting back a bottle for a long pull. "These five… heh. Trash Fruits."
"Doesn't matter," Shiki crossed one leg over the other, cup in hand. "They're ingredients, not snacks."
Whitebeard's curiosity got the better of him. "What are they?"
Rocks answered without ceremony:
Zoan: Usagi-Usagi no Mi (Rabbit)
Zoan: Ushi-Ushi no Mi (Ox)
Zoan: Hebi-Hebi no Mi (Snake)
Zoan: Nezumi-Nezumi no Mi (Mouse)
Paramecia: Kagi-Kagi no Mi (Key-Key)
"Huh? A Paramecia in there?" Dimon arched a brow. Four Zodiac-type Zoans screamed "low tier," but Paramecia often hid nasty surprises.
Rocks shrugged. "Key-Key turns your fingers into any key. It opens every lock in the world."
"Thieves will adore it," Stussy said dryly.
Whitebeard glanced at Dimon. "We've got the goods. Brewer—how do you make the wine?"
"I'll need a bit of time. I'll call when it's ready."
Truth? Dimon could brew right now. But mystique mattered. So did negotiating power. Brewing should look hard.
"How long?" Rocks asked.
"Half a month."
"So fast… how's it done?" Charlotte Linlin leaned in, eyes bright.
"Trade secret. Your job is drinking, not thinking."
Dimon's smile sharpened. "One warning: the Wine of Immortality freezes you exactly as you are when you drink it. No rewinds. Choose carefully—no refunds."
"Then I'm drinking while I'm young," Stussy chirped. Even killers feared crow's feet.
(Linlin did not belong to that church; in a few years, sweets would become her true religion.)
—
A week later, they made port at Hachinosu.
All five Fruits went to Dimon without fuss—Rocks had that big, dangerous kind of trust: use your people or don't hire them.
Dimon, for his part, wasn't going anywhere. If he wanted a pipeline of Fruits, he needed the Rocks network humming.
Back at the Immortality Bar, the place was spotless despite two weeks closed; Alfreda had kept it shining.
"Lord Dimon!"
The princess practically skidded to the counter. "The newspapers—you kidnapped Celestial Dragons! All of Hachinosu is buzzing!"
She darted behind the bar, rummaged, and produced a wanted poster.
"Your bounty, Lord Dimon!"
"Thrilled I'm a criminal, are we?" Dimon took it—and his face fell further with every zero.
'Brewer' Dimon
Member of the Rocks Pirates
Bounty: 500,000,000 Berries
"How many—"
"Five hundred million!" Alfreda beamed.
Five hundred… already? Same as early-era Kaido? For committing aggravated bartending?
The photo was the worst part: a crisp headshot as he walked past Garp on Sabaody—half of Garp's shoulder photobombed the frame.
"Photographer's good," Dimon muttered. "Never even noticed."
"Can I hang it up?" Alfreda clasped it to her chest.
"Knock yourself out."
The number was absurd. First-time bounties didn't start at half a billion. Must be the "I snapped a Dragon's wrist" surcharge, he thought.
While Alfreda gleefully decorated the wall, Dimon flipped the chest, plucked up the Mouse Fruit, and whispered:
"Devour."
Black smoke coiled from both palms—jaws made of shadow closed around the Fruit and swallowed it whole. Smoke sank back into his skin.
A text only he could see blinked across his vision:
Consumed 1 Devil Fruit → +100 Demon Points
Demon Points: 0 → 100
"Finally, income." He wondered if a devoured Fruit still reincarnated into the world. If not, Fruits would dwindle… though Vegapunk's line about Fruits being born of human wishes suggested new ones would appear.
He ate the other Zoans. Each chimed the same:
+100 … +100 … +100
Then he took the Key-Key Fruit.
The text jumped:
Consumed 1 Devil Fruit → +200 Demon Points
Demon Points: 400 → 600
"Oh?" So not flat rate. Paramecia bonus? Or just a higher-grade Fruit?
Intrigued, he filed a note: test Logias, Mythical Zoans, Ancient Zoans later.
"Six hundred points now—six bottles of wine." That's 24 cups; with the 3 cups left from before, he could make 27 undying.
The Devour upgrade he'd been avoiding? It was time to try. With more wine in reserve, he could finally invest in himself.
Unlocking a new demon skill would take 1000 points; not yet. Patience.
"Next—to choose a target. Not touching Rocks' people."
He conjured a fresh bottle of immortality; the points ticked down.
Demon Points: 600 → 500
—
Half a month blurred by.
Every day, Shiki popped in like a nosy seagull. Every day Dimon said, "Almost."
At dawn of day fifteen, the door banged open.
"Dimon! Half a month—didya finish the brew?" Shiki boomed.
"Almost—"
Shiki sagged. "Hard to get a drink around here. Fine, I'll go Shakky's Bar to tide me over."
"Hold it." Dimon caught his sleeve. "Shakky's Bar?"
"You didn't know?" Shiki blinked. "The Idol Empress's place. Fellow bartender of yours."
"I know Shakky—ex captain of the Kuja Pirates. That Shakky?"
"That was two years ago. The Kuja have a new captain now."
Dimon hadn't tracked the years that closely when he'd read the manga. But Amazon Lily he knew: the Kuja line of Empresses was legend.
First: Gloriosa (present and snarky).
Second: Shakky, the Idol Empress, adored across the seas.
Third: Toritoma, the current Empress.
Fourth—Boa Hancock—hadn't been born yet.
"An idol, huh…"
In a repressed, pre–Great Age world, a face that could dazzle the Rocks crew was a weapon of its own.
Dimon found himself curious.
As if summoned by the thought, a tall silhouette framed the doorway.
"So this is the Immortality Bar they talked about…"
Dimon and Shiki turned in tandem. Shiki's heart practically bulged into a cartoon ♥ under his ribs.
The woman smiled like she'd practiced it on the moon and raised a hand in greeting.
"Hello there," she said. "I'm Shakky."
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