The rising sun burned a deep crimson as it climbed over the horizon. Morning light filtered through dew-covered leaves, turning each drop into a tiny spark that shimmered against the awakening jungle.
A thunderous roar suddenly echoed from deep within the foliage, its ferocity undercut by a shiver of fear. A massive beast, large as an ox and covered in coarse hide, knelt trembling on the ground. Its bloodshot eyes—usually wild with instinct—were now filled with unmistakable terror.
The sight stirred nothing in Atticus.
He stood calmly before the creature, the lower half of his face obscured by shoulder-length, unkempt hair. A torn cloth covered his eyes. His expression remained unreadable, his entire presence unnervingly still.
He raised one calloused hand. A spark ignited at his fingertip, then compressed sharply. A moment later, a blazing golden beam shot forward, piercing the beast's skull with absolute precision. The faint scent of scorched flesh drifted upward as Atticus turned away and walked toward the shoreline.
At the edge of the sea, he untied the cloth covering his eyes. The rising sunlight washed over him as he opened them slowly.
His irises shimmered like polished obsidian, dark yet dotted with countless specks of light—like a star-filled night sky.
"More than forty days…" Atticus exhaled deeply, lifting his arms as though embracing the sea breeze. "It's almost been a month and a half."
Sunlight danced across his bare skin, his entire body seeming to glow faintly with an inner fire. Even the scenery around him felt dull compared to the radiance he carried.
He touched the three faded scars carved across his right cheek. A faint smile curled on his lips.
"I'm really looking forward to the competition," he murmured. "Akainu… I hope you're ready. I've made a lot of progress."
He stretched leisurely, his lean but defined muscles shifting beneath his skin.
"There should be some training time left. Maybe today I'll focus on the sea. Last time I reached a thousand meters… let's see if I can break past that."
He rolled his shoulders once more. Bare-chested, wearing only tattered shorts, his physique resembled a forged blade—thin, clean, and undeniably lethal.
"And if I'm lucky, maybe there'll be a small Sea King around. It's been a while since I tasted one." A vicious grin crossed his face.
With a single flare of fire beneath his feet, Atticus launched into the air and dove straight into the ocean.
This area bordered the Calm Belt. The first time he attempted deep-water training, a massive Sea King almost devoured him. If he hadn't escaped at the last moment, he would have ended as little more than sea-floor fertilizer.
But small Sea Kings… Those he had eaten twice. Their meat was rich with strange energy, and in this world, such nourishment was priceless. Half a Sea King was nothing for his appetite, especially after harsh training sessions.
His body sliced into the water with a splash, his descent smooth and swift like a sea serpent. Darkness swallowed him almost immediately as he dove deeper.
The moment he entered the water, Atticus activated his Observation Haki. Though his maximum range was around five hundred meters, the deeper he sank, the more it constricted.
One hundred meters.
Five hundred.
One thousand.
His perception shrank drastically until only a ten-meter sphere around him remained.
Water density grew overwhelming. Pressure crushed against his body with brutal force, tinting his skin crimson.
Light could no longer penetrate this depth. Everything was swallowed in blackness.
Here, sight was meaningless. The only thing he could rely on was his shrinking Observation Haki.
Atticus steadied himself against the crushing pressure, then began punching and kicking through the water, using the suffocating resistance as part of his training.
One thousand meters was his absolute limit. Beyond that, even one more meter would crush him.
But today, he intended to surpass that limit. Even half a meter would be progress.
If he coated himself in Armament Haki, he might endure a little more.
And so, in the silent abyss, where no human should ever exist, Atticus continued his relentless training.
Half an hour later, the sea surface erupted violently as a figure shot skyward. Sunlight spilled across his scarred body as he landed on the sand, drawing deep, desperate breaths.
"Huff… huff…"
He sat heavily on the beach. His lungs burned.
"I broke through by another minute. I can last thirty-one minutes now…"
He clenched his fists, frustrated.
"Armament Haki still isn't improving. I need a different approach."
His Armament Haki could coat his entire body, though just a faint layer of dark sheen. When concentrated in his hands, however, it became jet black and far more potent.
A month ago, he could barely coat his palms. Now his entire arms were manageable.
His physical strength had also increased dramatically. What had once been raw steel was now tempered and refined—just a single stage of improvement, but one that made a world of difference. His Haki and combat techniques had all risen accordingly.
Most notably, his Devil Fruit abilities had evolved. His maximum flame temperature had once been around 300,000 degrees Celsius. Now it exceeded 500,000.
During that breakthrough, he had unlocked a new ability—the flame light-energy beam, a technique inspired by Kizaru. He could condense his flames into concentrated beams capable of detonating with enough force to injure a Vice Admiral.
As for the magnetic-field aspect of his abilities… he hadn't made progress yet. But he believed he eventually would.
More exciting was the breakthrough in speed. After recalling a principle of force from his past life, he experimented endlessly. One attempt nearly destroyed his legs.
By igniting flames beneath his feet and using Soru at the moment of the explosion, he created a brief but tremendous acceleration—almost like teleportation.
But this strain was unbearable over long periods, even with Armament Haki. For now, it was only viable in close combat.
In summary, these forty-plus days had been incredibly fruitful. Atticus was confident that he was already close to Vice Admiral level. If he fought with everything he had, even a Vice Admiral might fall beside him.
He remembered the beasts on the island that rivaled that level. They had raw power, but no discipline, no technique. Not comparable to seasoned Marines.
"I wonder what's happened in the world these past weeks… Has Roger become Pirate King by now?"
His thoughts softened.
"And how is Hazel doing…"
He stared quietly at the waves, the loneliness of isolation settling over him for the first time.
But he shook it off.
"No use thinking about all that. I'm leaving soon anyway. For now… food."
His stomach growled, and he sighed.
Time to hunt.
Just like that, the days slipped by.
A Marine warship approached the coastline, cutting smoothly across the calm sea.
"I wonder how that lunatic is doing now," Kazan muttered from the deck, his arms crossed. Now far stronger than before, he stared intensely at the island.
"He won't die."
Onigumo rested a hand on the twin swords at his waist.
"He must have gotten stronger. Only someone truly insane would willingly stay on that island."
"I'll admit, I admire him sometimes," Kazan added. "I'm curious who'll win the competition. Akainu's been training obsessively since last time."
"When it comes to training, who surpasses Atticus?" Onigumo asked lightly. "Just watch—Akainu might lose again."
"You think so?"
"Maybe." Kazan narrowed his eyes as the island grew larger.
The warship slowed, then anchored quietly along the shore.
As soon as the ropes tightened, a figure suddenly appeared on the deck in a burst of flickering heat.
The Marines on board froze.
Kazan and Onigumo's pupils shrank violently.
There he stood—hair wild, bare chest crisscrossed with scars, tattered shorts barely clinging to him.
His eyes glowed like polished obsidian.
But it was the aura that stopped their breath.
A primal, ancient savagery radiated from him, something fierce and overwhelming, as though the next moment he might erase everything in front of him.