One Piece: Three Devil Fruits, Beginning with Darkness

**Chapter 14: Priest Jiger**

Six years had passed.

Inside a modest yet well-kept church in the Kingdom of Solby, an enormous figure sat at the center of the hall like a living mountain.

The man, or rather, the beast of a man, towered over five meters in height. His imposing presence should have been intimidating, yet those around him only felt warmth and security. A long line of elderly men and women stood before him, waiting patiently for their turn, some murmuring quiet prayers while others simply clutched at their aching limbs.

This was Kuma, now widely known and beloved as a priest of the church. With the power of the Meat-Ball Fruit, he had become a beacon of hope for the impoverished, healing those who could not afford the extravagant costs of traditional treatment. His name was spoken with reverence, especially among the elderly, who saw him as a savior of the sick and weary.

On one of the wooden pews, a young couple sat in quiet companionship. The man's head was slightly bowed, his dark eyes fixed on the pages of a black-covered Bible as he read with deep concentration. Beside him, the woman rested her chin on one hand, her gaze locked onto the man rather than the book.

These two were none other than Jiger and Ginny, six years older than when they had first stepped into this world of power and conflict.

Ginny had blossomed into a striking young woman. Her short pink hair framed her face, a perfect contrast to her radiant lavender eyes. She wore a white sleeveless vest and dark denim shorts, a simple yet effortlessly youthful combination that only accentuated her vibrant charm.

Puffing her cheeks in mild frustration, she nudged Jiger lightly with her elbow.

"Brother Jiger, are you so captivated by that book that you can't even spare me a glance? Or is it because you think I'm not good-looking enough?"

Jiger finally lifted his gaze from the book, meeting her eyes with a small, knowing smile. Reaching out, he gently ruffled her hair, his touch both affectionate and teasing.

"When did our beautiful Ginny become so insecure? The love letters piling up in the church say otherwise. They're stacked higher than Kuma."

Ginny huffed, crossing her arms as a faint blush crept onto her cheeks.

"Who cares about those guys? They're like a swarm of flies—buzzing around, so annoying!"

As she spoke, the last of the elderly patients shuffled out of the church, escorted by Kuma's massive figure. With his daily work completed, the towering priest left behind a gigantic, semi-transparent red sphere floating in the air.

Jiger closed his Bible and rose slowly from his seat, stretching his limbs as if preparing for his own task.

Ginny stood as well, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at him. A glimmer of intrigue danced in her lavender eyes.

At just fifteen years old, Jiger had already grown to an impressive 1.9 meters in height, making him several heads taller than Ginny despite her being older than him. His features had sharpened over the years—his jet-black hair remained in a tousled mess, giving him an almost lazy appearance, but his face was strikingly angular, his complexion pale as porcelain. The most haunting of his features, however, were his eyes—deep, dark, and endless, like a pair of black holes that could consume everything in their path.

His attire only added to his enigmatic presence. He wore a long, white high-collared coat, emblazoned with a black cross across the chest—an inverse of the garments Kuma had once worn during his time as a Shichibukai.

Jiger's gaze fell upon the large, hovering sphere left behind by Kuma. The red, jelly-like mass contained all the pain, exhaustion, and ailments that had been extracted from the elderly. It was a manifestation of suffering itself, condensed into a single, floating form.

He exhaled softly and murmured under his breath,

"Looks like it's time for me, as a priest, to get to work."

Lifting a hand, he tapped his fingers against the surface of the Bible he had been reading. The black leather cover suddenly writhed, as if it had come to life. From it, a miniature vortex of darkness swirled into existence, spilling forth like an ink-black storm. The shadow spiraled forward, swallowing the space in front of the Meat-Ball in an instant.

As the darkness dissipated, a figure appeared in its wake—a disheveled, middle-aged man slumped on the ground, gasping for breath. A tarnished golden crown sat atop his sweat-drenched hair, and though his clothing had once been regal and lavish, it was now in tatters, filled with holes and caked with filth.

Ginny's eyes widened in shock as she took a step forward.

"King Beckley?!"

Hearing the name, Kuma, who had been about to leave, turned back abruptly. His large frame loomed over the fallen man, his usually composed face showing a flicker of surprise.

For years, Jiger had taken it upon himself to rid the kingdom of filth—not just the literal kind, but the human kind as well. He often ventured out at night, prowling the city like a phantom, using his powers to capture criminals, slavers, and corrupt nobles. It had become a known legend among the underworld—those who sinned in Solby would be taken by the Great Priest of Darkness, never to be seen again. Of course, Jiger does so for many reasons including sparing Kuma the pain he would have to bear as the cost healing others illness.

Both Kuma and Ginny had long since grown accustomed to Jiger's methods. They had learned, over the years, that kindness did not always mean sparing lives.

But this time, even they were taken aback.

Jiger hadn't just captured another scumbag. He had captured the king of the country.

Stepping forward, Jiger crouched beside the trembling king, placing a firm hand on his back. His voice was soft, almost gentle, as he leaned in and whispered,

"Now, put your hand into the meatball. Or would you like me to help you?"

To Beckley, Jiger's voice was nothing short of a devil's whisper.

A violent shudder wracked his entire body. His breath hitched, and in an instant, a wave of shameful heat spread through his lower half. A foul stench filled the air as urine darkened the once-pristine floor beneath him.

Jiger frowned, his expression one of mild distaste.

"You are such a disgrace to a king."

Beckley's body was trembling like a leaf in a storm, but he managed to choke out a desperate plea.

"You… you can't do this to me! I am the king of a member nation of the World Government! Do you want to bring the navy down upon you?!"

Jiger's response was a slow, amused smile.

"That's exactly what I want. After all, when they see me, they have to salute."

Beckley's eyes bulged in disbelief.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Calm down," Jiger mused, tilting his head. "I chose Monday for a reason. The church is particularly busy today. This meatball is far larger than usual. You should consider yourself lucky—you get to enjoy it more than anyone else."

Before Beckley could protest further, Jiger gave him a firm shove.

The king's body lurched forward, plunging straight into the floating mass of condensed pain.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from his throat, echoing through the grand hall like the wail of a dying animal. The agony dragged on, stretching endlessly, until finally—silence.

With a lifeless thud, Beckley collapsed onto the ground, his eyes rolled back, his body lying in a puddle of his own blood and filth.

Jiger clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"Pathetic. And to think you called yourself a king."

Lifting a hand, he summoned another swirl of darkness. It engulfed the body and the mess around it, consuming everything before vanishing into nothingness.

Ginny stepped closer, waving a hand in front of her nose to clear the lingering stench in the air. Wrinkling her nose, she glanced at Jiger and asked,

"Brother Jiger, why did you go after this guy?"

Jiger let out a small chuckle, his lips curving into an amused smirk.

"Didn't I just tell you? I need to get the navy over here."

Ginny blinked in confusion. "Huh? But won't the navy side with him?"

Jiger's smirk widened. He reached out and playfully flicked Ginny's forehead.

"Have you already forgotten my last name? Do you really think the navy would dare to make a move against me?"

Ginny rubbed her forehead, still puzzled. "So what are you planning, Brother Jiger…?"

Jiger turned slightly, his eyes narrowing as dark wisps of smoke curled from his fingertips. His voice was calm, yet laced with unmistakable excitement.

"Simple. I want them to roll out the red carpet for me."

Black mist swirled lazily around his hand, dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

He was going into the navy.

For six years, he had trained relentlessly, pushing his body and his Devil Fruit powers to the limit. But now, he could feel it—he had hit a bottleneck. If he wanted to break past his current strength, he needed more. More battles. Stronger opponents. Greater challenges.

The Kingdom of Solby was too small, too weak. There was no one left here who could push him to his limits. But beyond this tiny country, the world was changing. The seas were in turmoil. The era of legends was beginning—Roger, Whitebeard, and countless other powerhouses were rising. If there was ever a time to sharpen himself against the best, it was now.

And then, there was Haki.

If he wanted to master it, he needed proper training. By his calculations, this was the perfect time—Zeff, also known as "Z" had just taken up his role as an instructor, molding the navy's first generation of elite recruits.

Zeff wasn't like Kaido, who trained his subordinates with brutal, inhumane methods. He was a scholar, a teacher in the truest sense, someone who refined warriors with discipline and knowledge.

And the proof of his skill?

The three future admirals—Aokiji, Kizaru, and Akainu—all of them are masters of both Devil Fruit abilities and raw combat power.

Jiger was confident. With his talent and Zeff's guidance, he wouldn't just improve—he would ascend to a whole new level.

As for his identity… he had already accounted for that.

Even if his actions today had been loud, even if he had shaken the foundation of this small kingdom, he had no fear of being rejected or hunted.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a sealed envelope. The fine parchment gleamed under the light, and across the front, stamped in gold-plated letters, was a name:

**"Figarland Garling."**

Jiger's smile deepened.

His path was already set.