The Grim Reaper Who Saves Lives
Following the thin, wiry native, Yang Ning and his companions hacked through the dense tropical rainforest, pressing inland.
Hot, humid wind carried the thick scent of jungle decay, whipping palm and fern leaves into a frenzy. The deeper they went, the more uneasy the group became.
Time lost meaning. Yang Ning only recalled slashing through more than a dozen venomous snakes dangling from the canopy.
After what felt like hours, the endless green finally began to thin. Ahead, the distant murmur of flowing water rose like a promise.
The native halted at the jungle's edge, refusing to go further.
"My lords… the temple grounds are just ahead. I… I can't go any further."
He kept his eyes down, voice fractured. He wanted to say more—but feared the blade at his back.
Fortunately, Yang Ning wasn't the type to punish messengers. He didn't even glance at the trembling man. Instead, he stared into the distance.
"Don't rush. At least let me see the temple first. What if you lead me to some empty clearing and vanish?"
The native bit back anger, fists clenching—then relaxing. He pushed aside broad palm fronds and pointed.
"Sir… look there. That black building at the foot of the mountain—that's the temple."
Yang Ning followed his gesture. Sure enough, a small, dark structure clung to the hillside in the distance.
He pulled the old man closer. "Is this it?"
The man squinted, then nodded. "It's here."
Satisfied, Yang Ning waved dismissively at the native. "Go."
The man's eyes widened in disbelief. He hadn't expected mercy. Without a backward glance, he turned and vanished into the jungle like a ghost.
The old man watched him disappear, then muttered, "You're just going to let him go? What if he gathers the others and ambushes us?"
Yang Ning didn't bother answering. Ambush by a tribe of spear-wielding natives? That sounded like free experience points to him.
He shot the old man a disdainful look and strode toward the temple.
'Tch. So generous? Then why not free me too?' the old man grumbled inwardly as he followed.
From the jungle, the temple had seemed close. But after an hour of walking under the scorching sun, it still loomed in the distance.
Nami, drained from maintaining the hurricane-force winds during their sea voyage, summoned a small dark cloud overhead. It shielded them from the heat and sent occasional cool breezes through the group.
Another half hour passed. Finally, the black building stood before them.
At the base of a low hill, a three-story structure of pure black stone—gleaming faintly like metal—was embedded into the mountainside. A clear stream trickled down from the peak, curving around the building before vanishing into the jungle.
The doors were sealed shut. No windows. No guards. Not even a sound. It was as silent as a tomb.
"Knock," Yang Ning said, nodding toward the gate.
The old man hurried forward and slapped a hidden protrusion on the doorframe.
"Click-clack… Rumble…"
Mechanical gears groaned within the thick door. Slowly, it swung open, dust swirling in the sunlight.
Yang Ning stepped inside. "Not bad, old man."
Seeing the door actually open, his confidence grew. He led Nami, Willie, and the others through the threshold.
What he found inside stunned him.
He'd imagined a fortress, a palace, maybe a high-tech sanctum. Instead, the "Black Stone Temple" was just a ring of black stone walls—like a circular fortress from the outside.
But within that ring lay another world entirely.
Rolling hills. A meadow. A small stream. Two simple wooden houses. And perched on a boulder by the water's edge—a black-haired youth, sitting cross-legged, watching them with quiet intensity.
"An aura I've never felt before," the youth said, before Yang Ning could speak. "Who are you?"
He paused, then added with forced respect:
"No—Your Excellency, the Divine Envoy?"
Yang Ning narrowed his eyes. There was bitterness in those words—like the youth had bitten his tongue to say them.
The old man stepped forward, his posture shifting instantly from servile to authoritative.
"The Fifth Generation Grim Reaper," he declared, "this messenger requires your power to revive someone."
The youth didn't open his eyes. But his jaw tightened visibly. Each word came out like a grindstone turning.
"Didn't you just take this year's Essence of Life? How am I supposed to save anyone now?"
"Hmm?"
Yang Ning's hand settled on the old man's shoulder. His voice dropped, soft but icy.
"Essence of Life? Old man… you wouldn't have lied about this place's healing power just to save your own skin, would you?"
It was the gentlest tone Yang Ning had used all day—yet the old man broke into a cold sweat.
"No! I swear! Those supplies were all on Saint Charmaz's escape ship!"
"Oh?" Yang Ning's grip tightened. "So your 'guarantee' was a lie from the start?"
His other hand drifted toward Kotetsu's hilt. Steel glinted in the dim light.
The old man didn't dare move. "It's true! I swear!" He spun toward the youth, voice sharp with command:
"If you don't have Essence of Life, use your own life force! Aren't the island's resources enough to restore you? Revive this person—now! That's an order!"
The youth's fists clenched until his knuckles cracked. But he said nothing. He leapt down from the boulder and walked straight to Sylvester.
Willie, exhausted and on edge, snapped: "Save my brother! Can't you tell?!"
Still silent, the youth knelt and placed a palm on Sylvester's chest.
A soft, fluorescent green light bloomed from his hand.
Drip. Drip.
Sweat poured down the youth's face. His jet-black hair began turning white at the tips.
Meanwhile, Sylvester's breathing grew stronger—chest rising, color returning to his skin.
Finally, the youth collapsed, gasping. "Alright."
As if on cue, Sylvester's eyes flew open. He blinked, then barked:
"Where's the captain? Is he okay? Willie—get your big face out of mine!"
Yang Ning watched the entire exchange, eyes sharp. He was now certain: this youth was a Devil Fruit user—the "Grim Reaper" the natives feared.
But something was off.
This so-called Grim Reaper didn't command death.
He bled life to give it back.
And he looked utterly broken doing it.