Chapter 3: Freedom
In the near future, the "World's Greatest Scientist" Dr. Vegapunk would discover the principles for transferring a Devil Fruit's power, enabling objects to "eat" fruits and gain abilities.
Note the term: discovered, not invented.
"Discovery" meant the phenomenon already existed—it just hadn't been systematically understood yet.
And so, in that distant, mysterious ancient era, a certain young man had smeared the crushed essence of a Devil Fruit onto a sculpture… and succeeded in making the stone "consume" it.
From that moment, Vergil became a sculpture imbued with the power of the Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Oni—the Human-Human Fruit, Mythical Zoan: Oni Form.
During that long, silent stretch of time, studying his own fruit abilities became Vergil's only pastime.
The development of a Devil Fruit depends heavily on the user's imagination.
History shows that the same fruit, eaten by different people, can develop in wildly different directions.
Oni.
That single word lingered in Vergil's mind, eventually giving shape to the "Eight Demons" of his memory:
Chīguǐ, Xiǎofēng, Zhōngsù, Xīmù, Bāshā, Bógāng, Shèngzhú, Jùlán.
Earth, Wind, Thunder, Sky, Water, Mountain, Fire, Moon.
Eight distinct supernatural aspects.
The complexity of these powers was staggering. An ordinary person could spend a lifetime and still not master them all.
Fortunately, Vergil had more time than most.
After the great wave hit, he sank to the seafloor.
It was profoundly boring. In that endless stretch, he did nothing but imagine, theorize, and derive countless possibilities for his fruit's abilities.
But as stone, he could not practice.
Until today—
Vergil was no longer submerged. He finally had a body.
He had so many theories to test.
The first impulse he felt upon touching the earth was a deep, resonant pull.
Oni Form.
The Earth Demon—Chīguǐ.
His skin turned russet-red, his frame thickened with dense muscle. Most striking were the two pairs of dark-green, curved horns atop his head—the unmistakable mark of a Mythical Zoan.
"Mythical Zoan…"
Crocodile studied Vergil, his mind racing.
The Grand Line was full of oddities, but a man emerging from an ancient Poneglyph? That was new.
And where there was mystery, there was opportunity.
"Vergil's" existence was news that could shake the world. Crocodile intended to be the first to control the narrative.
Without hesitation, he abandoned his original escape plan and moved with Vergil.
"Let's go."
As a Sand-Sand Fruit user, Crocodile transformed into his element, flowing into the tunnel Vergil had torn open.
Vergil submerged back into the earth, leading the way. Crocodile followed, observing closely.
Vergil moved through soil and stone like a fish through water. To him, earth and rock were as soft as clay. His thick, red hands tore through it effortlessly, carving a smooth passage.
"…"
Crocodile considered the similarities. Earth, stone, sand—they were kin. At full power, his own fruit could drain the land's moisture, turning it to sand. He could dig a tunnel, too, but it wasn't his style. He preferred grander erosion.
After several minutes of travel—it was impossible to tell how far—the dim light from the lab vanished completely. The tunnel was pitch black.
Crocodile remained a shifting mass of sand, trailing close behind.
Crunch!
Vergil thrust upward, breaking through the final layer of soil. Sunlight flooded in.
They emerged one after the other.
Crocodile scanned their surroundings. The research facility was now a distant silhouette.
He turned to speak, only to find Vergil already lying on his back in the grass, breathing deeply.
This Punk Hazard was still pristine—Caesar's poison gas experiments and the admirals' battle were events of the future. Now, it was lush, filled with birdsong and the scent of flowers.
"Ha… this is wonderful!"
The Chīguǐ form melted away, leaving Vergil in his perfect human shape. He lay sprawled on the grass, laughing freely. "Freedom feels incredible!"
"…"
Crocodile watched, struck by the sheer… ease of the man. As a sculpture, Vergil's form was a masterpiece. As a living being, he was…
Completely naked.
Just lying there, an unclad work of art in the middle of a field.
Right. No clothes. Crocodile wasn't about to offer his fur coat. He'd have to ignore the oddity for now.
WOOOOOOOO—!!!
A siren blared across Punk Hazard. Red alarm lights flashed atop the distant lab.
"Tch. That scumbag Caesar really is making a scene…"
Crocodile's brow furrowed. His original plan—leverage Caesar, expand his underworld influence—had just derailed completely.
Who could have predicted the ancient slab Caesar dredged up would turn into a person?
With Vergil gone, Caesar could easily cover his own tracks and pin the Poneglyph theft on Crocodile.
"No matter."
A dark grin spread across Crocodile's face. "Hehehe…"
Caesar was a small prize. Vergil's potential value was incomparable.
"Come on!" Crocodile called to Vergil, gesturing southwest. "My ship's on the coast. I'll take you out to sea."
"Alright!"
Vergil's eyes lit up. He'd been stone for too long. The chance to see the vast ocean? He wanted it desperately.
He sprung up from the grass with fluid ease, moving to follow.
Then the ground shook.
Crocodile tensed. "Was that you?"
"No."
Vergil shook his head, his gaze turning toward the source of the tremor.
A deafening roar split the air.
"ROOOOOAAAAR—!!!"
They looked up.
A massive red dragon descended from the sky, wings beating, jaws agape with rows of exaggerated teeth. Flames licked from its maw as it dove straight for them.
"Shurororororo!"
Caesar's gaseous laughter echoed as his form coalesced nearby. He'd tracked their escape and activated one of Punk Hazard's defensive systems.
"This is Vegapunk's artificial lifeform—the Punk Dragon!"
"Shurorororo! Don't leave so soon, Sand Crocodile."
Caesar's smile was venomous. "Why not do me one more favor… and test out Vegapunk's masterpiece for me?"
(End of Chapter)
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