One Piece: Three Devil Fruits, Beginning with Darkness

**Chapter 17 - I'm Your Dog!**

Inside the dimly lit church, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and candle wax. Stained glass windows cast fragmented hues of red, blue, and gold across the stone floor, painting the interior with an almost ethereal glow. The soft rustling of pages was the only sound that disturbed the silence.

Seated calmly on one of the wooden pews, Jiger closed the Bible in his hand, his fingers tapping the worn leather cover as he sensed something in the distance. A small smile played on his lips as he turned his head slightly.

"Get ready," he said, his voice carrying an easy confidence. "Our guests are here to pick us up."

Beside him, Ginny had been watching him absentmindedly, her chin propped on her hands. At his sudden words, she snapped to attention, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, flustered. She grabbed the hem of her white vest, tugging it down as if to compose herself, before quickly straightening her posture. "Brother Jiger, what guest?"

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed from the entrance of the church. The heavy wooden doors creaked slightly, but they did not swing open. Instead, the movement came to a halt just outside.

Spandine, standing at the threshold, abruptly raised a hand to stop the group of Marines behind him. His usually arrogant demeanor had shifted into something uncharacteristically cautious. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "Alright, don't go inside. Do not disturb that gentleman."

Babs, standing just behind him, narrowed his eyes in growing curiosity. There was an unease in Spandine's tone, a reverence that did not fit the image of the smug, self-important government official Babs had come to expect.

"Mr. Spandine, are you sure this Jiger is the person you're looking for?" Babs asked, his voice measured. "I don't mean to question your orders, but this man is highly suspected of being a Devil Fruit user. And we still don't know how King Beckley disappeared. If he is responsible, then I'm concerned for your safet—"

"Enough," Spandine cut him off with an impatient glare. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, barely containing his agitation. "I've already told you—do not address this gentleman by his name so carelessly! If you offend him, you and I both will disappear from this world without a trace."

Babs stiffened.

Spandine always carried himself as if he were untouchable, lording his authority over others without hesitation. Yet now, his usual arrogance had melted into raw fear, as if even speaking Jiger's name improperly would invoke disaster.

The Rear Admiral exhaled quietly, forcing himself to remain composed. He did not press further, but he turned to his subordinates and signaled for them to hold their position.

Meanwhile, Spandine took a deep breath and prepared himself. He spat into his hands, slicked back his hair, and adjusted his collar. His entire expression shifted, replacing his earlier irritation with a practiced, servile smile. Straightening his posture, he stepped forward and entered the church alone.

The heavy doors groaned as they shut behind him.

Inside the church hall, Jiger remained seated on the pew, his hands resting on his lap. Ginny sat beside him, her posture now rigid with curiosity. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the aged wooden benches.

Spandine's gaze swept the room, and his breath hitched slightly when he saw them.

Jiger was turned away from him, his tall frame outlined by the light from the stained glass windows. Even from behind, his presence was imposing—broad-shouldered, relaxed, yet exuding an unmistakable authority.

Spandine hesitated for only a moment before stepping lightly to the side of the pew.

"Hello," he said, his voice overly polite, almost rehearsed. "Is Master Jiger here?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Jiger rose from his seat. The movement was slow, deliberate. As he turned, his full height of 1.9 meters towered over Spandine. His gaze, calm and unreadable, settled on the trembling official.

Spandine felt an invisible weight press down on him.

"I'm Jiger," he said simply. His voice was neither hostile nor welcoming—it was simply a statement of fact. He studied Spandine for a brief moment before continuing, "You must have been sent by Uncle Garling. Your name is… Spandine, correct?"

Spandine's body jolted as if struck by lightning.

At the mention of that name, all pretense of composure shattered. His legs almost buckled, and his head lowered instinctively, his posture shifting into a deep, nearly humiliating bow.

"Y-yes! Yes!" Spandine's voice was unsteady, but he forced himself to speak with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I am Spandine! Saint Jiger, please forgive my earlier offense! It is my greatest honor to be in your presence!"

His face was almost touching the floor in submission, his entire body radiating desperate obedience.

This was why Spandine had climbed the ranks of the World Government so efficiently. He knew exactly *who* held power in this world. And Jiger, standing before him, was not just anyone.

Some time ago, Spandine had received a direct transmission from Mariejois. The voice on the other end of the Den Den Mushi had been deep, regal, and filled with an unquestionable authority.

Figarland Garling.

A name that sent chills down his spine. A name that belonged to a man at the very peak of the Celestial Dragons—a figure whose presence alone could command the highest echelons of power. Garling was not just a noble; he was the head of the Figarland family, a lineage so revered that lesser Celestial Dragons bowed before them.

And now, Spandine had been entrusted with a mission personally given by *that* man.

He was to escort Garling's nephew.

A boy born into the highest caste, whose very existence placed him above the kings of the world. A boy whose position, in Spandine's mind, was closer than even his own father.

This was no ordinary assignment—this was his golden opportunity. If he could serve Jiger well, even a mere scrap of favor from the Figarland family could elevate his own status to unimaginable heights.

Hearing the commotion, Kuma and Ivan emerged from a side room. Their eyes flickered toward Spandine, instantly recognizing the uniform of the World Government.

Ivan's expression darkened.

He knew what this meant. The time had come for them to part ways.

Spandine, still in his deep bow, dared not raise his head. His subordinates outside the church waited in silence, none of them aware of the humiliating display their superior was performing within.

Ginny, watching from the pew, let out a small whistle.

"Well, damn," she muttered under her breath. She had known Jiger was someone important, but seeing a high-ranking government official groveling like a beaten dog truly hammered it in.

She turned her head, glancing at Jiger's impassive expression.

The sheer difference in status made her stomach tighten.

Jiger, however, remained unfazed, merely casting a glance toward the entrance of the church. His sharp eyes took in the shadowy figures standing just beyond the doorway.

"There are quite a few people outside," he observed, his voice calm. "Why don't they come in as well?"

Spandine, still bowed in a near-humiliating posture, quickly lifted his head, his expression filled with exaggerated devotion.

"Saint Jiger," he said quickly, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Saint Garling has instructed that too many people should not be aware of your identity. That is why I kept them outside."

Jiger nodded at his reasoning and offered a slight smile.

"You did a great job," he said simply.

A rush of pride washed over Spandine, as if Jiger's praise had infused him with new life. His back straightened slightly, and he slapped a hand against his chest in an almost theatrical display of loyalty.

"Master Jiger, please don't worry!" he declared with fervor. "Saint Garling has already instructed me that if there is anything you find inconvenient to handle yourself, you can leave it to me! I will take care of it flawlessly! You are my master—I am your dog!"

Ginny, who had been quietly observing, blinked in disbelief. It wasn't every day you heard a grown man, a high-ranking World Government official no less, declare himself someone else's dog without a hint of shame.

Jiger's expression barely changed, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his thoughts. He coughed twice, as if clearing his throat could erase what he had just heard.

"Okay… now let the people outside in."

"As you command! Saint Jiger!"

"Wait," Jiger interjected, his tone firm but calm. "Don't call me 'Saint' in front of outsiders, especially the Navy."

Spandine immediately straightened, nodding obediently. "I understand!"

True to his words, he wasted no time rushing outside, his earlier display of blind devotion making his exit almost comical.

After Spandine left to summon the others, Ginny exhaled, shaking her head.

"He really is a... weirdo."

Jiger chuckled, leaning back against the worn wooden pew. "You'll meet more people like him in the future, so get used to it."

Moments later, Spandine returned, leading a group of navy officers and nobles into the church. Their expressions ranged from cautious curiosity to barely concealed apprehension. It was clear that Spandine had told them something outside—something that had shifted their attitudes completely.

Babs, in particular, studied Jiger intently.

He had expected someone dangerous, but the man standing before him was younger than he had imagined. And yet, despite his youth, there was something about him—an air of quiet confidence, of restrained power.

A chill ran down Babs' spine.

This wasn't just some ordinary noble with a privileged background. This was someone truly formidable.

As Jiger's gaze met his, Babs felt an inexplicable pressure, a sensation that told him the man before him wasn't just strong—he was on an entirely different level.

Then, to his surprise, Jiger stepped forward and addressed him directly.

"Hello, my name is Jiger," he said with an easy, almost casual smile. "My friend and I want to join the Navy."

For a brief moment, Babs' mind went blank.

Join the Navy?

A man like this—a man who exuded the presence of someone far beyond a mere soldier—wanted to enlist like some common recruit?

Before Babs could even process the statement, Spandine, who had been watching impatiently, scowled and stomped his foot.

With a sharp glare, he shoved Babs forward—not that his weak push had much effect—and snapped,

"Major General Babs! Mr. Jiger is speaking to you! Could you at least show some respect and respond properly?!"

His voice carried both frustration and an underlying sense of panic, as if he feared that any hesitation on Babs' part would reflect poorly on him. It makes Bab's wonder if this is still the arrogant man that descended the ship moments ago.