On the western side of God Valley, Gern prepared to withdraw toward the Navy warships.
The black blade in his hand felt ice-cold.
Its body was pitch-dark like ink, faintly reflecting a chilling glimmer.
He gently brushed his fingers along the edge.
With a thought, vibration particles flowed over the blade like water—
And the sword accepted them perfectly.
Not the slightest rejection.
"As expected of one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades…"
Gern murmured, admiration flashing through his eyes.
He suddenly reversed his grip and swung—
Shua!
A pure-white vibration wave tore through the air like a silver crescent, slicing precisely through a massive boulder in the distance.
The rock split soundlessly in half.
Then, the residual vibrations seeped inward—
Boom!
The entire boulder collapsed into countless fragments, scattering across the ground.
This wasn't swordsmanship.
Gern knew it clearly.
He had no talent for the blade—this was merely another application of the Heavenly Quake Fruit.
And yet, this sword could perfectly carry vibration power—
even condensing and amplifying it.
He tested it several more times.
Each swing responded as naturally as an extension of his arm,
as if the blade had always belonged to him.
But as he looked at the exposed black blade, his thoughts paused.
This was Rocks' relic.
If recognized, it would invite unnecessary trouble.
After a moment of silence, Gern took out the standard Navy medical kit at his waist and pulled out a roll of white bandages.
With nimble fingers, he wrapped the blade layer by layer
until it was completely concealed—no trace of sharpness exposed.
"From today on," he said softly,
"your name is Eight Desolations."
He stroked the hilt, a faint smile forming.
"My blade alone…
Black Blade · Eight Desolations."
He discarded his Navy rifle, looped its sling onto the sword hilt, and swung it over his back in one smooth motion.
At the outer coastline of God Valley, warships blared their horns across the sea.
The battle was over.
The World Government would never leave this island behind.
After cleanup, the Navy began a full evacuation.
Gern staggered across the beach, like most others—
his uniform torn and filthy.
Only the long blade wrapped in white cloth on his back set him apart.
"Hey! Someone over there!"
A familiar voice rang out, followed by hurried footsteps.
Gern looked up to see Ensign Derrick rushing toward him with several Marines.
"You're alive—!"
Derrick froze, then his face exploded into exaggerated joy.
He rushed forward and pulled Gern into a tight embrace.
"Gern! You're alive! That's great!"
His voice trembled with "emotion," even choking slightly.
Gern was caught off guard.
This was the very man he'd paid every last bit of savings to—
the one who pulled strings to get him into God Valley.
Though confused by the enthusiasm, Gern smiled weakly.
"Ensign… I made it. I survived."
"Good. Good. But… how are you really fine?"
Derrick released him, gripping his shoulders tightly, scanning him up and down.
He ordered the others to continue search and rescue.
He would personally handle Gern.
But as the others left, Gern noticed—
The moment Derrick let go, his right hand subconsciously brushed the flintlock at his waist.
An illusion?
Gern felt no hostility—only mild gratitude.
Derrick was greedy, but he did deliver on his promise.
Meanwhile, Derrick's gaze slid to the blade on Gern's back.
Though wrapped, the hilt alone marked it as something extraordinary.
He got treasure.
Derrick's pupils contracted. His heart raced.
A Celestial Dragon's possession, no doubt.
They'd abandoned countless valuables during retreat—
Enough to drive any officer insane.
This brat didn't just survive… he got something like this.
Jealousy and greed churned violently.
If he returns to West Blue alive—
with God Valley merit and this blade's value—
even if he only reaches NCO rank, he'll surpass me eventually…
Derrick smiled—but his eyes went cold.
Gern, meanwhile, was thinking of something else entirely.
He absolutely couldn't reveal his ability here.
This was a Celestial Dragon hunting ground.
A nobody Marine suddenly awakening a Devil Fruit after God Valley?
What would the World Government think?
All six reward fruits were accounted for.
Even if his fruit formed naturally—
Better to return to West Blue first.
Then fabricate a reason.
"Gern, are you injured? Come, I'll help you back to the ship."
Derrick reached out with feigned concern.
"No need," Gern shook his head. "I can walk."
"…Is that so?"
Derrick's eyes flicked to the blade again as his hand reached for the hilt.
"That sword looks heavy. I'll carry it for you."
Gern instinctively sidestepped.
The blade trembled faintly behind him.
"Really unnecessary, Ensign."
His voice was calm—but alert.
"Others need help. Let's head back."
The atmosphere froze.
"…You're right."
Derrick withdrew his hand, smile returning—but utterly cold.
Gern turned and left without lingering.
Behind him, Derrick's smile vanished—twisting into something feral.
Gern Reginald Sigma.
Orphan. No background.
West Blue branch, Second-Class Soldier.
Joined at ten.
Avoided pirate suppression missions.
Paid his way into logistics.
A nobody.
If he died here, the compensation would go to the unit.
As recommender, Derrick would take it all.
That was why he'd sent Gern here.
But this bastard lived—and profited.