Ox-Ox Fruit, Bison Model

When Jack walked out of the iron cage, Colin followed him, dragging his broken chains.

"The Arena Master said," the guard on the left swallowed, "please come upstairs. The private box on the second floor."

Jack looked at him without a word.

The guard's legs shook even harder, but he did not move aside. His orders had come directly from the Arena Master. Disobeying would earn him a fate worse than dying at Jack's hands. Under the rules of Iron Cage City, killing a disobedient guard was easier for the Arena Master than crushing an ant.

Jack turned to glance at Colin. "Wait here."

Colin opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Jack was already heading up the stairs. He crouched down, hugged his knees, and huddled in a corner of the corridor. The chains hung from his wrists to the floor, with a few twisted links still dangling from the broken ends.

The door to the second-floor private box was open.

Bege sat on the sofa with his legs crossed, holding a glass of wine. The four guards behind him had become six. The two additions stood on either side of the box, their hands in their pockets and their eyes fixed on the doorway. The Arena Master stood beside the coffee table, bent at the waist, holding a wine bottle in both hands as he prepared to refill Bege's glass.

Bege raised a hand slightly, and the Arena Master froze. The bottle hung in midair, its mouth two centimeters from the rim of the glass.

"Sit," Bege said.

Every chair in the box had been made for ordinary people. Not one could support Jack's weight. He remained standing where he was, his right arm hanging at his side. Blood dripped from between his fingers onto the carpet, soaking into the dark red pile and leaving blackish stains.

Bege watched the drops of blood, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. His gaze moved from the bloodstains to Jack's arm, then to the four tooth punctures still seeping blood, and finally to the muscle definition faintly visible beneath his steel-hardened skin. His gaze moved neither quickly nor slowly, as though he were inspecting a freshly forged weapon, missing no detail.

Jack was watching Bege too.

Up close, Capone Bege looked younger than he had from the stands. He was in his early thirties, with sharply defined features, high cheekbones, and a jawline that looked as though it had been cut with a knife.

But his eyes were what mattered.

When those eyes looked at Jack, they seemed to be looking at a set of numbers. Height, reach, weight, muscle density, reaction speed, loyalty, controllability. All that data raced through his mind, producing a result.

Bege set down his glass and tapped the coffee table twice. A guard behind him turned, walked to a corner of the box, and opened a gold-trimmed wooden case. It was small, roughly the size of two palms held together, made of dark wood polished to a glossy shine, with gold leaf covering its edges and corners. The guard carried it to the coffee table and set it before Bege.

Bege did not open the case. He looked at Jack.

"Do you know what this is?"

Jack said nothing.

Bege answered his own question. "A Devil Fruit. The Ox-Ox Fruit, Bison Model. Worth two hundred million Beli."

He reached out a finger and tapped the lid. "Open it."

The guard lifted the lid.

For the first time, Jack saw a real Devil Fruit. Its skin was deep purple, covered in spiral patterns that spread outward from the stem like whirlpools, like fingerprints, like some design that did not belong to this world. The fruit gave off an odor—not the fragrance of fruit, not the stench of rot, but something he had never smelled before. It was like rust mixed with honey, yet also like burnt caramel.

Watching Jack's gaze, Bege nodded in satisfaction. "Eat it."

His tone was casual, as though he were commenting on the pleasant weather. He leaned back against the sofa, his fingers tapping a rhythmless beat on the armrest.

"Eat it, and you'll become an ability user. Twice the strength, twice the speed. No one will be able to beat you." Bege paused, his smile widening a little. "But ability users have one weakness. Seastone."

He pulled something from his pocket: a pair of silvery-white handcuffs inlaid with pale green stones. Seastone, the bane of ability users. The cuffs spun once around his fingers with a crisp metallic clink.

"You eat the fruit and put on the cuffs. You fight for me, and I feed you. A lifetime contract."

His tone remained casual, as though he were laying out an account he had already balanced. One fruit in exchange for a fighting slave for life. A worthwhile deal. He had already seen what this madman could do in combat. If he could restrain him with Seastone, then strengthen him with a Devil Fruit, Iron Cage City's business could at least triple.

The air in the box froze.

The Arena Master stood nearby, still holding the wine bottle, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for Jack's answer, but feared a refusal even more. How would Bege react if Jack refused? If Jack turned hostile on the spot, would everyone in this box be enough for him to kill?

To think there was a deal this good.

Jack reached into the case and picked up the Devil Fruit.

The fruit looked tiny in his palm, like a toy. Its spiral patterns seemed to flow beneath the light. That strange odor grew stronger, worming into his nostrils and assaulting his sense of smell.

Every gaze in the box focused on his hand.

Bege's guards pulled their hands from their pockets. The Arena Master held his breath. Bege's smile did not change, but his eyes tracked every detail: the angle at which Jack lifted his fingers, how long the fruit rested in his palm, the dilation of his pupils.

Jack brought the fruit toward his mouth.

Bege's smile widened a little. The Arena Master's shoulders relaxed. The guards slipped their hands back into their pockets.

Then Jack crushed it.

His five fingers tightened, steel-hardened knuckles pressing into the skin as the spiral patterns twisted under the pressure. The fruit split from within, and deep purple juice shot out through the cracks. It did not drip. It sprayed. Juice spurted between his fingers, splashing onto the coffee table, the carpet, and the legs of Bege's suit trousers.

Pulp squeezed out through the shattered skin. Purple chunks scattered through the air, landing in the wineglass on the coffee table, on the Arena Master's face, and on Jack's own prison uniform. Juice ran down his wrist and dripped onto the carpet, mingling with the blood he had spilled earlier into a murky, dark stain.

In an instant, the smell of the juice filled the entire box. That blend of rust and honey became so overpowering it stung the nose. The Arena Master coughed once, then hurriedly stifled it.

Everyone froze.

Bege's smile stiffened on his face. It did not disappear; it froze, like a half-finished painting whose lines remained but whose life had vanished. His eyes fixed on the mass of crushed pulp in Jack's hand, on the purple juice running between his fingers, on the puddle still bubbling on the coffee table.

Two hundred million Beli.

Burst into juice right before his eyes.

Bege's face darkened. From his cheekbones to his chin, every trace of color drained away, replaced by a leaden gloom. The corners of his mouth no longer curved upward. His lips pressed into a line, his nostrils flared slightly, and his breathing grew heavy. At last, anger appeared in his eyes—not the calculating, composed scrutiny from before, but pure, undisguised fury.

A hundred million Beli was pocket change to him. Losing it would barely sting. He, Capone Bege, was someone of standing in the West Blue. No one had ever shattered his dignity right to his face. This madman had not only done it, but done it so decisively, so completely, without even a second's hesitation.

Jack opened his hand. The crushed fruit slipped from his palm and fell onto the carpet. Purple juice soaked into the pile, spreading into a large, dark stain.

A system pop-up lit up in the center of his vision.

"Physical destruction of a Devil Fruit detected. The Lineage Factor of the Ox-Ox Fruit, Bison Model has dispersed. Automatic system absorption initiated."

"Sacrifice complete. Heartsteel stack limit +10. Current limit: 60. Current stacks: 5/60."

"Random selection in progress..."

...

Option one

Category: summoner spell

Name: Cleanse

Effect: removes all disabling effects on you (except suppression and airborne effects), and reduces the duration of subsequent crowd control effects by 65% for the next 3 seconds. Cooldown: 1 day.

Description: a lifesaving spell, especially effective against crowd-control-focused champions.

...

Option two

Category: champion ability

Name: Lee Sin [W ability - Safeguard/Iron Will]

Effect: Lee Sin dashes to an allied unit, granting both of them a shield. Activating the second cast grants life steal and spell vamp for 4 seconds.

Description: the Blind Monk's core survival and skirmishing ability. Its shield and sustain make him extremely flexible in jungle duels and small-scale team fights.

...

Option three

Category: champion ability

Name: Thresh [Q ability - Death Sentence]

Effect: Thresh throws his scythe. After hitting an enemy, he can pull them toward himself twice or fly to their side. Deals magic damage and stuns for 1.5 seconds.

Description: a core engagement ability. Landing the hook is essentially a "death notice," making it Thresh's most iconic crowd control tool.

Jack looked at the pop-up for a second. None of the options seemed particularly good, so he left the choice for later and closed the panel.

Then he moved.