Power was never something that could be mastered overnight.
Especially not power like the Behemoth’s.
The fruit had transformed Rowan from a sheltered prince into a monster capable of shaking an island with a single careless step.
Strength like that wasn’t a gift—it was a responsibility.
One mistake could flatten a forest.
One lapse in control could tear apart the ground beneath his feet.
Before revenge.
Before the Lightning Fruit.
Before the World Government.
There was something more important.
Control.
Mastery.
Growth.
Standing atop a cliff overlooking the sea, Rowan stared at the endless horizon.
The waves below crashed against the rocks, their rhythm steady and eternal.
“One day,” he said quietly.
His fingers tightened into fists.
“Every debt will be repaid.”
The wind carried his words away.
“The World Government.”
“CP0.”
His gaze hardened.
“I’ll settle the score with all of you.”
The vow lingered in the silence.
But Rowan wasn’t reckless.
Hatred alone wouldn’t bring down an empire.
Unlike the heroes of the stories he used to read, he couldn’t rely on fate to save him from every impossible situation.
Charging into the world now would accomplish nothing except getting himself killed.
A Logia user without Armament Haki was untouchable.
The World Government’s strongest agents could crush him without effort.
He needed time.
So he stayed.
He remained on the isolated island where fate had stranded him.
Training.
Hunting.
Growing stronger.
Day after day.
Month after month.
Year after year.
On the first day of his training, he turned toward the forest and took a step.
His foot slipped slightly.
BOOM!
The earth detonated beneath him.
Dirt and stone erupted into the air as a crater several feet wide appeared where he had been standing.
Rowan stared at the hole.
Then rubbed his forehead.
“…Right.”
He sighed.
“Still getting used to that.”
The Behemoth’s strength was ridiculous.
Shaking his head, he disappeared into the jungle.
And there he remained.
For five full years.
Time flowed onward.
Five years later.
The Calm Belt.
The same deserted island.
BOOM!
A massive body crashed onto the shoreline.
Sand exploded skyward.
Seawater surged across the beach.
The enormous Sea King—well over thirty feet long—twitched once.
Then went completely still.
A bloody hole pierced clean through its skull.
Instant death.
Nearby stood a tall young man.
Nearly two meters in height.
Broad-shouldered and leanly muscular.
His once youthful features had sharpened with age, carrying the calm confidence of someone who had spent years surviving alone.
Black hair shifted lazily in the sea breeze.
His expression remained utterly relaxed.
Several pebbles rolled between his fingers.
The weapon that had killed the Sea King.
Rowan tossed one into the air, caught it again, and let out a disappointed sigh.
“Just a small one.”
He glanced at the corpse.
“What a waste of effort.”
Five years of living with the Behemoth Fruit had taught him many things.
One lesson stood above the rest.
The fruit consumed an absurd amount of energy.
His appetite had become downright monstrous.
At first, the island’s wildlife had been enough.
For a while.
Then entire sections of the ecosystem began disappearing into his stomach.
Wild boars.
Large reptiles.
Anything remotely edible.
Eventually, Rowan had exhausted the local food supply and been forced to expand his hunting grounds.
That was how the Sea Kings entered his diet.
For ordinary sailors, the creatures ruling the Calm Belt were nightmares.
Living disasters.
Monsters capable of swallowing ships whole.
For Rowan, they were dinner.
A properly sized Sea King could feed him for weeks.
Thinking about it still felt strangely ironic.
Five years ago, the Sea Kings had been the reason he became stranded here.
The ship carrying him away from Valeria had been destroyed, scattering the survivors and forcing him onto this island.
Back then, one of these creatures could have killed him with ease.
Now?
He hunted them with pebbles.
Life really was strange.
“Small or not, food is food.”
Rowan rolled his shoulders.
“Waste not.”
Just as he started walking toward the carcass, the sea suddenly erupted.
ROOOOOOOAR!
A deafening cry echoed across the water.
The ocean exploded upward.
Towering waves surged in every direction.
Then something enormous rose from the depths.
A giant crimson octopus.
Only the upper portion of its body emerged above the surface, yet it already towered nearly a hundred meters into the air.
Massive tentacles writhed across the sea.
Each movement generated waves powerful enough to overturn ships.
Rows of giant suction cups lined every limb.
A true Sea King.
And an exceptionally large one.
Its gaze immediately locked onto the dead Sea King lying on the shore.
Food.
The giant octopus paid Rowan no attention whatsoever.
To a creature of that size, he barely existed.
A speck.
An insect.
Its focus remained entirely on the free meal waiting on the beach.
After all, prey had become increasingly scarce throughout the region.
Sea Kings kept disappearing.
The giant octopus didn’t understand why.
If it knew the reason, it might have reconsidered approaching.
Rowan looked up.
Then smiled.
Finally.
Something worth eating.
With a casual motion, he drew the sword hanging at his waist.
The weapon looked pitiful.
Its edge was chipped.
Its blade scarred and worn.
Patches of rust clung stubbornly to the steel.
Five years of relentless training had left it barely recognizable.
Yet the moment Rowan wrapped his hand around the hilt, the atmosphere changed.
A dark sheen spread across the blade.
Armament Haki.
The black coating flowed across the steel like liquid darkness.
Power gathered.
The air seemed to tighten.
Rowan lowered his center of gravity.
His posture relaxed.
Focused.
Efficient.
Then he swung.
“One-Sword Style…”
The blade cut through the air.
“Mamba Slash.”
A silver streak flashed across the sky.
Fast.
Precise.
Lethal.
The descending tentacle froze.
For an instant, everything became still.
Then—
A line appeared across the massive limb.
The tentacle separated cleanly in two.
Like silk cut by a razor.
The slash didn’t stop there.
The remaining force ripped through the severed flesh, shredding it into dozens of pieces before continuing out across the ocean.
Chunks of crimson meat rained onto the shoreline.
Blood stained the waves.
The giant octopus released an agonized scream.
The sound shook the sea itself.
Waves exploded outward from its body.
Rowan’s grin widened.
“Now that’s more like it.”
He rested the battered sword across his shoulder.
“I was starting to get tired of fish.”
His eyes gleamed.
“And here you are.”
He looked up at the towering Sea King.
“Delivering yourself right to my doorstep.”
“How thoughtful.”
Five years had changed him completely.
The boy who fled Valeria no longer existed.
He hadn’t spent those years relying solely on the Behemoth’s power.
The Great Swordsman’s journal from the royal treasury had become his constant companion.
Through endless practice and countless battles, he had gradually grasped the principles recorded within.
Eventually, he crossed a crucial threshold.
The Realm of Cutting Steel.
A milestone that marked the difference between someone who wielded a sword and a true swordsman.
Combined with the monstrous strength granted by the Behemoth Fruit and the reinforcement of Armament Haki, even his simplest attacks carried terrifying destructive power.
Across the water, the giant octopus stared at him.
Its intelligence wasn’t far from a human’s.
And for the first time since emerging from the depths, instinct screamed a warning.
Not about another Sea King.
Not about a rival predator.
About him.
The tiny figure standing on the shore.
The human holding a battered sword.
The creature it had dismissed as insignificant.
In that moment, the giant octopus finally understood the truth.
The most dangerous predator in these waters…
Wasn’t a Sea King.
It was Rowan D.
Drake.