Thunder Enters the Body, a God Born

Rektol looked at the thunderclouds outside the window.

His legs suddenly tensed. Two cracks split the stone floor beneath his feet.

Before Linlin could react, he slammed headfirst into the wooden shutters beside him.

The window frame shattered. Wood splinters pierced the cloth over his shoulder.

Like a cannonball of flesh, Rektol crashed into the sand outside. His three-year-old legs carved two deep trenches through the ground as he sprinted madly toward the trophy warehouse at the other end of the shore.

He twisted his ankle when he landed and nearly ended up with a mouthful of sand.

Rektol spat out the grit and kept running without pausing. The fierce wind whipped his pink hair into a mess.

Several pirates along the way were carrying barrels of liquor.

He knocked them over like a crazed rhinoceros, spilling alcohol everywhere. The pirates were about to draw their blades and curse, but when they saw that it was Linlin's monster of an eldest son, they swallowed their insults.

The warehouse was a massive sheet-metal shed built three days ago.

Inside were the treasures looted from the treasuries of several countries in the West Blue.

A brass lock the size of a fist hung from the metal door.

Two pirates were dozing at the entrance.

Rektol charged straight at the door without slowing down.

He lowered his body and rammed his shoulder heavily into the iron door.

With a deafening bang.

The brass lock snapped under the tremendous force and struck one pirate in the forehead. The pirate clutched his head and rolled across the ground, blood streaming through his fingers.

The other pirate jolted awake and had just drawn his flintlock when Rektol squeezed through the gap in the door.

The warehouse was dark.

The air reeked of seawater, dried bloodstains, and cheap perfume.

Gold coins were piled like hills, while pearl necklaces hung haphazardly from battered armor full of chips and dents.

Rektol did not spare those dazzling piles of gold and silver a glance.

A faint blue glow appeared in his eyes. The All-Knowing Eye locked onto a wooden crate in the farthest corner.

The crate was buried beneath a pile of moldy wool tapestries.

He ran over, grabbed the tapestries with both hands, and yanked hard.

Dust flew everywhere. He sneezed twice from the choking dust, squeezing tears from his eyes.

Rektol rubbed his reddened nose and kicked the lid off the crate.

The crate was lined with red velvet.

At its center lay a sky-blue fruit.

Its peel was covered in rings of lightning-shaped bumps, and its stem resembled a crooked bolt of thunder.

A Logia, the Rumble-Rumble Fruit.

Rektol's throat bobbed.

He snatched up the fruit. Its skin felt rough, carrying a tingling static charge that stung his palm slightly.

Without the slightest hesitation, he opened his mouth wide and bit off a third of it.

The stench.

An indescribable foulness exploded in his mouth. It was like swallowing a mouthful of moldy car battery fluid—bitter and sour enough to shoot straight into his skull.

Rektol's stomach churned violently, and acid surged all the way up his throat.

He clamped a hand over his mouth and forcibly suppressed the urge to vomit.

Without even chewing, he swallowed the pulp straight down.

He looked at the remaining fruit with disgust and casually tossed it onto a pile of gold coins.

Less than two seconds later, his body reacted.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The three hearts in his chest erupted with a muffled boom at the same time.

When ordinary people ate a Devil Fruit, their bodies were forcibly altered, causing an intense rejection reaction.

But Rektol felt no pain.

Like three shredders running at full power, his three hearts instantly broke down the Rumble-Rumble Fruit's power and pumped it through his blood to every part of his body.

Perfect compatibility. No side effects whatsoever.

Rektol felt as if his blood had turned into liquid lightning. His veins bulged beneath his skin, glowing blue.

A blue-white arc leaped from his fingertip and struck the metal wall with a crack, leaving behind a scorched black mark.

Then came a second arc, then a third, erupting one after another from his neck, shoulders, and calves.

Crackle! Pop!

Dense electrical sounds filled the entire warehouse.

Rektol's three-year-old body slowly floated upward, his toes leaving the ground.

He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

His once chubby palms had completely transformed into elements, becoming pure blue lightning.

Violent energy ran wild inside him, swelling his meridians until they ached. This power needed an outlet.

Rektol took a deep breath. His three hearts suddenly contracted.

Two hundred million volts. Released without restraint.

Boom—

A blue-white pillar of lightning exploded outward with Rektol at its center.

The sheet-metal shed's roof was instantly torn apart by the horrifying heat, its fragments spinning into the air dozens of meters high.

The mountains of gold, silver, and jewels did not even get the chance to melt before vaporizing directly into clouds of pungent metallic vapor.

Lightning shot into the sky.

The rolling mass of pitch-black thunderclouds above the island was drawn in.

The clouds churned madly, forming a massive funnel-shaped vortex that hung upside down and connected directly to the lightning pillar below.

Nothing remained between heaven and earth but blinding white.

The smell of ozone grew overwhelming.

The beach had been burned into crystalline glass that crunched beneath one's feet.

Rektol floated at the center of lightning and storm.

Arcs of electricity coiled around his limbs like snakes. Every strand of his short pink hair stood on end, and the rough cloth shorts on his body had already burned to ash.

Lei Yin rumbled.

This three-year-old body seemed born to command divine punishment.

More than half of the Rocks Pirates' camp was alarmed.

The pirates covered their eyes, dropped their liquor bottles, and stared in terror at the lightning pillar piercing heaven and earth.

Linlin rushed out of the stone house.

She was still gripping a broken corner of the stone table. Looking up at the tiny figure in the center of the thunderclouds, she stood there with her mouth open for a long while.

Only after more than ten seconds did the lightning pillar gradually recede.

The thunderclouds filling the sky still had not dispersed, hanging heavily overhead.

Rektol descended from the air, barefoot on the scorching vitrified sand. The soles of his feet reddened from the heat, but he did not even furrow his brow.

He clenched his fist, now filled with electric current, in satisfaction.

In his hands, the Rumble-Rumble Fruit did not require the arduous development others needed.

The terrifying foundation granted by the Godly Mutant Physique meant that the moment he ate it, he had already reached this fruit's upper limit.

Just then, a dull sound of metal striking metal came from beyond the ruins.

Two tall figures pushed through the choking metallic vapor and strode in.

The man on the left wore a heavy suit of silver full-body armor, with even his face hidden within the helmet. Every step made the armor's joints scrape with a teeth-grating sound.

The man on the right was a drunkard.

He wore a filthy captain's uniform, with two gourds full of rum hanging from his waist and a gleaming longsword in his hand.

Senior officers of the Rocks Pirates: Silver Axe and Captain John.

Burp—

Captain John let out a loud belch, spewing a strong smell of alcohol.

He tapped a gold brick that had not fully melted with the flat of his blade. As he looked over the scorched ruins, his eye twitched twice.

"What blind little brat destroyed all the treasure I worked so hard to steal?!"

Captain John cursed under his breath, his gaze locking onto the naked Rektol standing in the center.

Silver Axe said nothing.

He reached behind him and drew the broad famous sword from his back. Its heavy blade slammed into the ground, smashing a pit into the crystalline sand.

Through the gap in his helmet, he stared coldly at Rektol.

In the Rocks Pirates, destroying spoils was a capital offense.

Even if this brat was Charlotte Linlin's son, he would have to teach him a lesson today.

"Little thing, didn't your mother teach you the rules?"

Captain John staggered forward, his longsword dragging sparks across the ground.

"Today, I'll discipline you for Linlin!"

With a flick of his wrist, his famous sword traced a flourish through the air, its blade pointing straight at Rektol's neck.

Silver Axe raised his greatsword as well. One stood to the left and the other to the right, blocking off all of Rektol's paths of retreat.

Rektol did not step back.

The lightning around his body slowly sank beneath his skin. His three hearts beat rhythmically in his chest.

He raised his head, looked at the famous sword in Captain John's hand, then at Silver Axe's exaggerated massive blade.

He scratched his scalp, which itched from the static electricity.

Then Rektol bent down.

He rummaged through a pile of half-melted scrap metal by his feet, his fingers brushing against a charred piece of metal.

He casually pulled it out.

It was a battered iron sword.

Half the blade had broken off, its edge was full of chips, and the guard on its hilt had melted into a lump of iron. It was some cheap weapon left behind by a low-ranking pirate.

Holding the broken iron sword, Rektol slowly straightened his three-year-old body.