It had been twenty years since the birth of the ruler of the island. The snake had once been small, easily overlooked. Yet now, it dwarfed all other creatures, coiling around the largest tree in the wooded island, its silver scales flashing in the first rays of dawn. And from the tree’s tallest branch, there dangled a small, golden fruit, glowing with swirls of green—a treasure the snake had awaited nearly all its life.
Every fortnight, the serpent opened its keen eyes, scenting the fruit, hoping it was ripe enough to eat. But today, as always, the fragrance was almost but not quite perfect. It could wait a little longer, knowing the day it would be ready was drawing ever closer. The sweet smell wafting from the fruit enticed it to eat it once and for all. But the snake forced itself to wait, its eyes glinting with a hint of the animalistic cunning that had allowed it to reach the peak of the food chain on the island. The fruit was special. The day it was ready would be the day the snake’s endless patience would be rewarded. On that day, the vast ocean—its horizon just beyond the trees—would finally beckon, and the serpent would leave its birthplace behind.
The serpent closed its eyes as it silently hoped that maybe, by the next time it woke, it would finally consume its prize. As it fell asleep, a single mast poked over the waves on the horizon. This was soon followed closely by a second, then a third. Finally, the bow of the ship, then the hull, and the ship was fully revealed, making its way straight to the uninhabited island. The ship sported the typical pirate flag: a skull and crossbones on a black background, and the crew was your generic pirate crew, rushing around the ship, making sure it stayed on course.
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On board the ship, Captain Flint stepped out of his quarters and, with measured steps, walked up to the helmsman.
“How goes it?” he asked.
The helmsman startled. “Captain, sir, we will be there by the day’s end, sir.” he reported, keeping his hands on the helm and nodding nervously towards the captain.
Flint gave a brisk nod and retrieved a spyglass from his coat pocket to gaze at the distant island. It was a small dot, barely a smudge of green against the vast blue sea, and not much to look at. But after days of rough sailing, it promised a welcome rest and a chance to restock. He looked up at his cousin Agnes in the crow’s nest far above, her sharp eyes scouring the horizon. He smirked, feeling luckier than any other captain in the whole of the South Blue. Agnes, his cousin and lookout, was a legendary devil fruit user—a rare treasure. Her powers allowed her to see for miles and sense threats long before they drew close. She had spotted the island days ago, steering them clear of marine patrols along the way. Flint chuckled to himself. His route to the Briss Kingdom would be smooth sailing, thanks to her. Her power was invaluable. They could easily find islands whenever they needed to stop and even steer away from migratory sea kings. He turned back and returned to his quarters. He needed to further plan the route they’d take to the Briss Kingdom.
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The day flew by as Captain Flint kept himself immersed in planning the route, making sure to steer clear of any marine bases. The one he was most worried about was the one watching over their destination, the Briss Kingdom.
Captain Flint looked up from his work as someone knocked on his door. “Come in,” he grunted, turning his attention back to finish writing on a piece of parchment. Setting his quill aside, he looked up at his subordinate, who stood patiently, waiting for the captain to finish. It was his first mate, a former member of the marines. The discipline he himself had and instilled in his crew was a wonder to behold. Flint smiled, nodding at him. He was a lucky man. “At ease, Mister Wright.”
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His first mate, Robert Wright, walked up to his desk. “Captain, we are as close as we can get to the island without risking the hull. Permission to drop the anchor?”
Captain Flint sighed. “Permission granted,” he said, standing from his chair to follow his first mate out of his chambers.
They emerged onto the deck, greeted by the slight chill of a passing breeze and thick layers of clouds that marred a sky that had been clear that morn. Flint looked up at the crow’s nest, squinting to spot Agnes leaning against the railing. “Agnes!”
She perked up, looking down at the deck. “Scout out the island for us!” he called.
As the island grew larger in the distance, Agnes’ eyes glowed with her eerie blue power, and she peered across the water toward the island. Then, the glow faded abruptly. She scrambled down from the crow’s nest and rushed to Flint, her face lit with excitement and worry.
“Cap’n!” she panted. “There’s treasure on that island. A devil fruit!”
Her words sent a ripple of whispers through the crew. A devil fruit! The very mention of it brought to mind unimaginable powers, a coveted prize that could shift the balance of any battle on the seas. Flint’s heart raced. He could barely believe his luck. To have two devil fruit users in his crew? They would be unstoppable.
“But,” Agnes said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s guarded.”
Flint’s excitement faded a notch. “Guarded by who?”
“Not who, Cap’n—what.” She stretched her arms wide, her voice trembling. “It’s a snake, a huge one.”
Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Flint looked at the island they’d planned to rest at, then back at his cousin to ask the most pertinent question. “How big?”
Agnes took a moment to think of a comparison, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, well… Cap’n, bigger than our boat, that’s for sure.”
Flint gulped. “Wait, you’re telling me the monster is the size of a Sea King?” He tried to clarify, hoping he’d simply heard her wrong.
“Yes,” Agnes nodded.
‘That explains her worry,’ Flint thought. ‘My luck has finally run out.’ Flint took a step back and twirled a finger through his growing blond beard. A habit he had developed once he’d started growing it out, he found it helped him think.
A Sea King-sized snake? The tales of such monsters chilled even the fiercest sailors. They’d never survive a fight with a serpent of that size. So, he had to find a way to get some value out of the situation. He’d already given up on the devil fruit. What could he do that would give them the most value?
Then, the glimmer of an idea sparked. He didn’t have to claim the devil fruit himself. The information was valuable. Some nobles, merchants, or even rival pirates would pay a fortune for news of a devil fruit and its location. Maybe not as much as the devil fruit itself, but a fair amount nonetheless. Flint’s smile returned. Perhaps he wasn’t so unlucky after all.
He had a plan. Turning to his crew, he raised his voice. “Raise the anchor! That devil fruit isn’t worth the lives of my crew.”
His crew looked back at him, bewildered. A devil fruit was on that island, they were just going to leave?
“You heard your captain! Raise that anchor!” The first mate’s voice resounded across the deck as the crew scurried off to their tasks, grumbling all the while.
Flint watched the island as it receded, its monstrous guardian hidden somewhere in the trees, waiting for anyone foolish enough to try their luck. Flint turned away, shaking his head. He could already picture the pile of berries he’d rake in for this tale. There would be other devil fruits—there had to be—other chances for power. He had been lucky once, he could be lucky again.
With the waves at their back, Flint clapped his first mate on the shoulder. “Let’s keep to the course, Robert. To the Briss Kingdom."
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