Click! The Seastone handcuffs snapped shut around the small creature's wrists.
Hiss hiss hiss…!
A continuous, sibilant sound echoed throughout the vast underground cavern. Glancing around, the group saw the surrounding monsters begin to dissolve one by one, thin wisps of black mist rising from their disintegrating forms.
"No! Kill you! I'll kill you!" the cuffed creature shrieked maniacally, its eyes blazing red as it watched its creations dissipate.
"Quiet down," Bacon snapped, casually kicking the creature.
Amidst the scene, only Wilder's face grew visibly paler. Claire and the others quickly noticed something was wrong with him. Just as they started to voice their concern, Wilder held up a hand, cutting them off. "Let's get out of here first…" he managed, his voice sounding weak.
"Right," Claire agreed immediately.
But just then, something unexpected happened. Although all the monsters in the cavern had dissolved into black mist, the anticipated outcome – the mist vanishing completely now that the presumed ability user was restrained by Seastone – didn't occur.
Instead… the dense black mist began to converge, swirling towards Wilder and his group.
"Is this… trying to return to that guy's body?" Bacon asked, momentarily stunned.
His guess wasn't entirely unreasonable. Devil Fruit abilities were notoriously bizarre, and Seastone didn't always instantly negate effects that had already been deployed.
Consider Aokiji, for example. If he were to freeze a vast expanse of the ocean and was then immediately slapped into Seastone cuffs, would the ice instantly melt? The answer is no.
Or take Marco the Phoenix. If he was covered in his blue flames of regeneration and was suddenly cuffed, would the flames continue burning? No, in that instant, the flames would likely dissipate… or perhaps, return to his body.
So… the current scene likely resembled the latter scenario: the mist attempting to return to its source.
"No…" Wilder looked up, his face deathly pale, teeth clenched. The agitation within his soul felt as if it were about to tear his body apart from the inside.
"This black mist…" He glanced down at the small creature lying weakly on the ground. It showed no sign of having any tricks left up its sleeve… which suggested that the mist returning was the normal process, that it should be flowing back towards the cuffed creature.
But…
Wilder looked up again just as the nearest clouds of black mist reached them. Suddenly! He felt an intense jolt deep within his soul!
The black mist abruptly turned violent, frenzied! It surged not towards the creature on the ground, but lunged directly at Wilder!
"Holy crap!" Bacon yelped in astonishment. He, Claire, and Yves were forcefully pushed back several meters by the unexpected surge of dark energy.
They could only stare, dumbfounded, as Wilder's body began to absorb the black mist like a whale inhaling krill. A swirling black vortex formed above him, drawing in the dense fumes.
The mist, which should have been returning to the small creature, had somehow changed its target mid-stream – or perhaps… Wilder was now forcibly absorbing it.
On the ground, the small creature weakly opened its eyes. Witnessing the scene, its expression mirrored the others' shock and disbelief.
It knew the black mist was supposed to return to it. Although the mist was technically an external substance, painstakingly accumulated over time by killing people and extracting their "evil," it was still his! It was a power granted to him by his ability! But now…
Only a few pathetic wisps managed to reach the creature, merging into its body – a dose so minuscule it felt insulting.
"Stop! That's mine!" it screeched.
The feeling was akin to a master entrepreneur, who had spent a lifetime accumulating vast wealth, having it all stolen overnight. Even if the skill to make money remained, the loss itself was unbearable!
The creature glared at Wilder with the hatred one reserved for a mortal enemy – which, admittedly, wasn't entirely inaccurate. Its eyes were so bloodshot they appeared almost black. It desperately wanted to leap up and tear Wilder apart, but restrained by Seastone, it was utterly powerless.
Wilder, meanwhile, was feeling anything but well. Intense waves of pain washed over his body, originating from the depths of his soul and radiating outwards into his physical form. Perhaps something else was involved too… like his swamp power itself.
He didn't understand why his unique soul was reacting this way, actively pulling in this strange black mist. What use could it possibly have? Thinking about it… the only certainty was that his soul was… abnormal, unpredictable.
Perhaps…
Could this actually be the legendary "Golden Finger" from the stories?
Is my strange soul my true cheat ability?
He had never once seriously considered this possibility. Ever since his training in Impel Down, his soul had granted him immense willpower and strength. Later came powerful Observation Haki, mastery over Life Return, and the ability to release and control his Devil Fruit power more effectively. He had always attributed these advancements to the fact that his soul was a fusion of two, resulting in heightened sensitivity, a deeper understanding of his own body, and the ability to unlock its latent potential.
But now… it seemed far more complex than that.
Before 'transmigrating' into this world, Wilder's understanding, gleaned from countless novels in his previous life, was that transmigration inevitably came with a "Golden Finger" – some kind of cheat or special advantage. He had always assumed his Golden Finger was simply obtaining the powerful Swamp-Swamp Fruit. He'd never considered anything beyond that, consistently overlooking the peculiarities of his soul. But now, it felt as though his soul was attempting to take center stage, to become the dominant factor!
No!
He forcefully rejected the thought. He had never consciously relied on his soul for anything. He couldn't control it or direct it to perform specific tasks. It had always acted erratically on its own, causing him pain, making him faint without warning! Something so unstable hardly deserved the title of "Golden Finger." Therefore… his Golden Finger had to be the Swamp-Swamp Fruit!
Yet, as he connected these thoughts, a flash of insight sparked in his mind. Wilder's eyes slowly widened as he grasped a point of profound importance, one he had inexplicably overlooked until now!
His soul… it seemed… had been helping him grow stronger all along!
Yes!
It wasn't just about the steady increase in his strength. It was the unique, almost unbelievable talent he possessed… that seemed to be one of the primary reasons he had progressed so rapidly to his current level of power.
And that talent… it all stemmed from… his soul!
His soul… had been silently aiding his development from the very beginning.
His mastery of Life Return, allowing intricate control over his body; his "Power Release," granting deeper manipulation of his swamp abilities – both were undeniably linked to his unique soul.
So, this time…
Another wave of agony ripped through him, shattering his train of thought. Wilder gritted his teeth, enduring the escalating pulses of intense pain.
His body felt as though it might split apart at any moment. The waves of torment crashed against him like surf against a rock – and his body was that rock, battered but enduring. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity. He waved a hand dismissively, stopping Claire, Yves, and Bacon as they started to approach, concern etched on their faces. Despite the pain, Wilder's eyes gleamed with a mixture of sharp intensity and feverish excitement.
This time… what will it be?