One Piece: Emperor of Knowledge

Reached 10 stones, here's the bonus chapter.

Next: 25

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The sun hung high, relentless in its glare as I stood on the edge of the wreckage. Pieces of my boat lay strewn across the shore, broken by the sea's fury and the beast's final assault.

Each shard of wood, every rusted nail, told the tale of my narrow escape. I bent down, running my fingers over a warped plank half-buried in sand. Salvage what you can, I told myself. Survive first, plan later.

The breeze carried the scent of salt and something sharper, decay. I glanced toward the forest that bordered the beach, its canopy dark and tangled, with thick, vine-laden trees that seemed to shift as if alive.

The forest was dense, teeming with the hums and calls of unseen creatures. I could hear the guttural croak of something large, deeper than any bird I had known, and the skittering of smaller beasts moving just beyond the tree line. The air buzzed with insects, some the size of my fist and bright blue with iridescent wings.

This place was alive in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't afford to venture too far inside, not yet. Not without knowing what else might be watching from those shadows.

I worked quickly, gathering usable planks, ropes, and anything that had survived intact. An old toolbox caught my eye, half-buried and speckled with sand.

I opened it to find my tools still nestled inside, rust beginning to creep at the edges but still serviceable. Hammers, a set of screwdrivers, pliers, these were as vital as any weapon.

By midday, sweat trickled down my back, mixing with salt and grime. I had erected a simple lean-to, supported by stakes dug deep into the sand and tied with ropes that strained under the breeze.

It wasn't much, but it would shield me from the elements. I sat on a flat rock, the sun-warmed surface grounding me as I assessed my next moves.

The forest called to me, a dense expanse of greens and browns that rustled and murmured as if sharing secrets. Tall trees with rough, scarred bark loomed over bushes spiked with red flowers that smelled faintly of metal.

I could see small, bird-like creatures with shimmering feathers of gold and emerald flitting through the branches, and once, the slither of something too large to be just a snake.

I knew better than to go in blind. First, I needed strength.

....

I rose before the sun, the sky a deep purple that bled into streaks of orange as dawn approached. The crisp air stung my lungs, filling me with a sense of urgency. Training had to be more than routine now; it needed to be survival itself.

I set off down the beach, running where the sand was firmest. Each step sank slightly, forcing my muscles to work harder to propel me forward. The rhythmic pounding of my feet echoed against the distant crash of waves.

As the first light crept over the horizon, I paused and turned to face the forest. The trees seemed almost defiant, standing in rows that hid whatever lurked within. I approached the nearest one, its bark rough and scarred by deep gouges.

Claw marks, I realized, tracing them with my fingers. Whatever made those marks was formidable. A chill pricked the back of my neck, but I pushed it aside. I needed to start somewhere, and hesitation was not an option.

I planted my feet and threw my fist at the tree. The impact jolted up my arm, raw and biting. Pain flared across my knuckles, but I welcomed it, curling my fingers and repeating the motion. Strike, breathe, strike. Each hit sent a shockwave up my arm, but the burn in my muscles told me I was waking something up, something primal.

I varied my training, moving into squats and lunges to strengthen my legs, each movement calculated and deliberate. Using fallen branches tied with stones, I fashioned makeshift weights, lifting them over my shoulders and pressing them upward until my arms quivered. Sweat trickled down my temples, and the morning heat rose, mingling with the scent of the sea and the forest's earthy breath.

When the pain in my knuckles dulled to a throb, I took a different approach. I stood close to the tree and tapped my shins against it, soft at first, then harder as the skin numbed. The stinging evolved into a dull ache as I continued, the repetition carving strength into bone and sinew.

The jungle's noises were ever-present, a reminder that I was not alone. The calls of distant creatures shifted from the sharp chirps of bird-like fauna to guttural roars that rolled through the trees. Once, a pair of eyes, amber and predatory, blinked from between the shadows of the underbrush before disappearing. Whatever it was, it had been big. I flexed my fists and made a mental note: don't go deeper into the forest until you're ready for whatever might meet you there.

....

By the third day, my body was a canvas of bruises and sore muscles, the ache of progress a constant companion. I adjusted my training to include full-body conditioning: striking tree trunks to toughen my hands, sprinting along the sand to build explosive power, and diving into the shallows of the sea to swim against the current. Each exercise pushed me to my limits, blurring the line between exhaustion and growth.

On one of these runs, a flash of movement caught my eye, a lizard-like creature with scaled skin that shimmered a bright turquoise. It darted across the sand before diving into a tangle of roots, its forked tongue flicking the air as if testing it. I followed cautiously, my muscles coiled. As I approached, a rustling in the bushes nearby snapped my focus. I spun around, heart pounding, only to catch sight of a creature that froze me in place.

It was a boar, but unlike any I had seen before. Its tusks were jagged, curved inward like scythes, and its dark fur bristled with small, needle-like spines. It snorted, pawing the ground, eyes black and glittering. A surge of adrenaline flooded my veins. This was no practice; this was survival.

The boar charged, each step tearing into the sand. I sidestepped at the last moment, my body moving instinctively, and struck its flank with my elbow as it passed. The impact jarred my arm, but the beast only grunted, veering around for another charge.

I crouched, muscles tense, watching its movements. This time, as it lunged, I jumped sideways and drove my knee into its exposed side. The boar staggered, letting out a guttural squeal before collapsing into the sand, twitching as it took its final breath.

My chest heaved, the victory short-lived as I scanned the forest edge for any sign of movement. The birds had gone silent, as if holding their breath. I wiped sweat from my brow, feeling the sting of shallow cuts from the boar's spines. The win had cost me, but it was a testament to my progress.

....

The days passed, and my training continued with an unwavering focus. My knuckles hardened, the skin roughening and callusing with each strike. The aches in my shins dulled, replaced with a toughness I hadn't known before. Each night, I lay beneath my makeshift shelter, eyes on the stars and mind on the future.

'Strength and intelligence,' I thought, flexing fingers that no longer trembled after hours of work. 'Both will keep me alive here.'

The forest rustled its agreement, a symphony of unseen life that promised challenges ahead. And as I closed my eyes, the haunting call of a distant predator reminded me that training was only the beginning. The real test was surviving whatever lay deeper within this untamed island.