Black Blade: Eight Desolations

On the western side of God Valley, Gern prepared to retreat toward the Marine warships.

The Black Blade felt cold in his hand, its ink-dark surface glinting faintly with a chilling light.

He brushed his fingertips over the edge, then willed vibration particles to flow over it like water. The blade accommodated them perfectly, without the slightest resistance.

"As expected of one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades..." Gern murmured, admiration flashing in his eyes.

He suddenly swung it backhanded.

Whoosh! A pure white wave of vibrations tore through the air, sweeping out like a silver moon and slicing precisely through a massive rock in the distance.

The rock first split silently in two. Then the lingering vibrations seeped into it, and the entire boulder shattered with a thunderous crash, scattering countless tiny fragments across the ground.

This was no sword slash!!

Gern knew perfectly well that he had no talent for swordsmanship. This was merely another application of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit.

Even so, the blade could accommodate the power of his vibrations perfectly, even concentrating their force further.

Gern tested it several more times, each swing as natural as moving his own fingers, as though the blade had always belonged to him.

But as he looked at the completely exposed blade, his thoughts paused.

It was something Rocks had left behind.

If anyone recognized it, it might bring unnecessary trouble.

After a moment of silence, Gern took the standard-issue Marine medical kit from his waist and pulled out a roll of white bandages.

His fingers moved nimbly, winding the bandages around it layer by layer until the blade was completely wrapped, with none of its sharp edge exposed.

"From now on, your name is Eight Desolations."

Gern gently stroked the hilt, the corners of his mouth lifting.

"A blade that belongs to me alone... Black Blade: Eight Desolations."

With that, Gern discarded his Marine rifle, looped its sling around the hilt, and swung the Black Blade securely onto his back.

Along God Valley's outer coast, the horns of the warships offshore blared.

The battle was completely over. The World Government would never leave this island intact, so once everything had been dealt with, the Marines began an emergency evacuation...

Gern staggered along the beach. Like most of the others, his Marine uniform was already torn and covered in dust.

Only the long blade wrapped in white gauze on his back set him apart.

"Hey! Someone's over there!" A familiar voice rang out, followed by a jumble of footsteps.

Gern raised his head and saw Warrant Officer Derrick running toward him with several Marine soldiers.

"You're still alive..." Derrick froze for a moment, then exaggerated "ecstasy" spread across his face. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Gern.

"Gern! You're alive! Thank goodness!" His voice was full of "excitement," even catching slightly.

The sudden warmth caught Gern somewhat off guard.

After all, this Derrick was the "connection" he had spent all his savings on to secure a place among the reinforcements for the battle on God's Island.

Although he did not know why Derrick was so enthusiastic, Gern soon stopped dwelling on it. A faint, relieved smile appeared on his exhausted face.

"Warrant Officer, I did it... I survived."

"I'm glad you're all right. But how could you actually be all right?" Derrick released him, then gripped Gern's shoulders tightly with both hands.

He looked him up and down, as though checking whether he was unharmed.

Then he ordered the other Marines to continue searching for survivors while he took charge of Gern himself.

However, once the other Marines had left, Gern keenly noticed that the instant Derrick's right hand released him, it instinctively reached toward the flintlock pistol at his waist.

Was I imagining things? Gern harbored no particular feelings toward Warrant Officer Derrick beyond a little gratitude.

The man was somewhat greedy, but at least he had actually done the job after taking the money and gotten Gern to God's Island.

Meanwhile, Derrick's gaze soon shifted from Gern's face to the Black Blade on his back.

Although the white cloth concealed most of it, the exquisite hilt alone made it clear that this was something valuable.

This guy got his hands on a treasure. Derrick's pupils contracted slightly, and his heart raced.

The blade had to be a treasure belonging to the Celestial Dragons. After all, they had abandoned plenty of things during their retreat.

Those things were enough to drive any Marine officer mad.

This brat... not only did he survive, he even got his hands on spoils of this caliber. Jealousy and greed churned inside Derrick.

If he makes it back to the West Blue alive, with the credit for reinforcing God's Island and the money he could get for this blade...

He might only be promoted to a noncommissioned rank for now, but sooner or later, he'll climb above me...

At that thought, Derrick's smile remained brilliant, but his eyes turned cold.

Gern, meanwhile, had not thought that far ahead. Right now, he absolutely could not reveal his abilities in front of everyone.

After all, this was the site of the Celestial Dragons' hunting game. If an ordinary Marine like him suddenly gained powers after the events on God's Island...

...what would the higher-ups in the World Government think if he suddenly possessed a Devil Fruit ability?!

All six Devil Fruits offered as prizes on God's Island had been stolen.

Although his own fruit had probably formed naturally on God's Island...

It would be best to return to the West Blue first, then make up an excuse.

"Gern, are you hurt? Here, let me help you back to the ship." Seeing Gern stand still for so long, Derrick feigned concern and reached out to support him.

Coming back to his senses, Gern shook his head. "No need, Warrant Officer. I can walk."

"Is that so..." Derrick's gaze landed on the Black Blade again, and he suddenly reached for its hilt.

"Then... let me carry that heavy blade for you."

Almost instinctively, Gern turned sideways to evade his hand. The Black Blade trembled faintly on his back.

"There really is no need, Warrant Officer." Gern's voice was calm, but his eyes had grown wary.

"There are other Marines who need help. Let's hurry back to the warship first."

Derrick's smile froze on his face, and the atmosphere instantly grew tense.

"You're right." Derrick slowly withdrew his hand. His smile returned, but his eyes had turned utterly cold.

"All right. Since you're fine, let's head back to the ship."

Once Derrick agreed, Gern could not be bothered to waste any more time. He simply turned and left.

Behind him, Derrick watched Gern's retreating figure. His smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a vicious expression.

Gern Reginald Sigma.

He had investigated him long ago-no parents, no connections, a seaman apprentice from an ordinary West Blue branch, and an utterly unremarkable one at that.

He had joined the Marines as a chore boy at ten, and it had taken him four years in the corrupt West Blue just to become a seaman apprentice.

He never participated in any pirate suppression missions, either, even paying money to secure a logistics position.

If someone like him died on the battlefield, even his death benefits would go to his unit.

And as the man who had recommended him, Derrick could pocket every last bit of that money.

That was why he had sent Gern to God's Island. He had never expected the man to survive, let alone reap any benefits...