Speach -> "..."
Thought -> '...'
Scene change -> _____
Relevant information -> Bold
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In a massive forest filled with twisted, colossal trees, a young man—who looked like he was in the early years of adolescence—slept peacefully among the foliage. His mouth hung wide open as he snored loudly, drool running from the corner of his lips, and a comical bubble formed and deflated with every breath through his nose.
The boy's appearance was fairly average: short, spiky black hair, lightly tanned skin, and a crescent-shaped scar next to his left eye. He wore a long, stylish black leather coat that reached his knees, with a plain black T-shirt underneath. His dark brown pants covered his legs completely but were loose enough to allow agile movement. On his feet, he wore black boots.
The bright sunlight hit his eyes, making him squint uncomfortably. Irritated and groggy, the boy opened his eyes.
"Tch! Can't an old man sleep whenever he wants anymore?" he muttered in a sleepy, sluggish voice.
It was then that, as his consciousness began to clear, the boy realized something was very, very wrong.
'What the hell…?'
He remembered that every time he woke up, his body was stiff and sore in multiple places. Because of his old age, he hated that feeling. But now… nothing. On the contrary—his body felt energized. No pain, no heaviness, no tension.
What alarmed him even more, however, was the fact that even in his old age, he had always been powerful. His strength came from countless years of training and perseverance. And now… he couldn't feel any of it.
Startled, he stood up and looked at his arms, flexing them. But when he did, he was shocked. His skin, once wrinkled, now looked young and firm. Still in disbelief, he began examining his body with his hands.
Bald head and oily hair? Gone.
His beard? Gone.
His powerful muscles? Also gone.
So, the boy did the only thing he could do:
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH?!?!?!" he screamed so loudly that the echo traveled across the entire forest.
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It took a while, but he finally managed to calm down. Sitting on a moss-covered rock, he began doing something he hadn't done in a long time: thinking deeply.
Trying to understand what was going on, he started with the basics.
His name was Monkey D. Garp.
Marine Hero. Vice Admiral. Seventy-eight years old. Born on May 2.Father of one son, grandfather of two grandchildren.
All of that was still clear in his mind, but none of it made sense. He could feel it—he was much, much younger. And at the same time, he had lost everything—his years of brutal training, his strength, even his Haki. He also realized he was much smaller in size. It was like his body had reverted to the peak of adolescence—maybe sixteen years old, or even younger.
His clothes were different, too. He had always liked his standard uniform: a blue shirt with a tie, white slacks, white shoes, blazer, and his Marine coat.
But now, he wore clothes he'd never seen before—though they weren't bad. Still, his outfit was the least of his problems.
Following his train of thought, he recalled what had happened before he woke up here. He was fighting Kuzan, trying to save Koby, his beloved protégé.
He had barely managed to defeat Kuzan, but in the end—exhausted—he was captured by the Blackbeard Pirates. After that… darkness. Fragmented memories. A void.
Garp sighed and scratched his head in frustration.
"This doesn't make any damn sense..." he muttered, then stood up, smiled wide, and let out a loud laugh.
"Well, whatever! The brats can take care of themselves! BWAHAHAHAHA!!"
Knowing that his disciple and the other Marines had escaped despite his capture, Garp decided not to dwell on complicated thoughts—just like always.
Now, he needed to figure out where he was.
"GRAAAAAAAWWRRR!"
A sudden roar echoed through the forest like thunder tearing through the sky. It wasn't just a sound—it was a force.
The air grew heavy. A tense silence settled, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
It was a roar of dominance, wildness, and raw power. The kind of sound that screamed, "This is my territory."
Then came a scream.
"AaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"
It sounded young. And terrified. It came from the same direction as the roar.
Garp stretched and cracked his neck.
Complicated thoughts could wait. Right now, he had a brat to save.
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A few kilometers away, a blond boy dressed in animal-hide clothing was running frantically from a massive, furry creature that chased him closely.
"Huff! Huff! Damn it, damn it, damn it! I just had to run into a damn Forest Vulcan?!"
The boy darted through the forest with agility and grace, while the creature tore through everything in its path.
His name was Lark, a common boy from a hunter's village who had the bad luck of stumbling upon a magical creature while foraging for mushrooms and fruit.
It wasn't unusual to find magical creatures on the outskirts of the great Warth Woodland. Rabbits with horns, goblins, and other smaller creatures popped up now and then.
But never a Forest Vulcan. Until now.
Vulcans are large, anthropomorphic monsters resembling primates. They have elongated chins, pointed ears, horn-shaped heads, massive arms, and muscular torsos. Their legs are small in comparison to the rest of their body, and a long tail extends from the lower back. Each species has a unique fur pattern.
Forest Vulcans—known as Gorians—have green fur. Their chest, abdomen, hands, ears, and face are a vibrant shade of purple. Unlike Mountain Vulcans, their eyes have no pupils and glow. The lower half of their bodies is a darker green, and their arms have five pink heart-shaped markings as decoration.
Besides their absurd strength, what makes them especially dangerous is their ability to use magic. Specifically, Take Over magic—the power to possess other creatures' bodies. They're also intelligent and can speak the human language.
But for Lark, what made this Vulcan especially terrifying was…
"Gehehe! Pretty human! Come here!" the Vulcan said, with a creepy smile and blushing cheeks.
Lark shivered as the Vulcan approached with disturbing excitement.
"Hiiiiii?! Stay away from me, you perverted monkey!" he screamed in horror, tears welling up in his eyes.
He kept running until he reached a rock wall at the base of a mountain—a dead end. Turning around, he saw the Vulcan getting closer, toppling trees in its path.
The true terror hit when he saw the creature's face twist with joy. Lark remembered his grandmother's stories about Vulcans—all terrifying. And for more than one reason.
Pressing his back against the stone wall, he pulled a hunting knife from his sheath, ready to fight for his life—and his dignity. Even if it was useless, at least he could say he tried.
Swallowing hard, he watched the giant ape approach until it stood right in front of him.
"Pretty human… fun time!" the Vulcan said cheerfully.
Pointing the knife at it, Lark shouted:
"One more step and I'll stab you! I'm not joking!"
The Vulcan smiled even wider, revealing its sadistic nature. In a flash, it snatched the knife from Lark's hand.
"What?! When did—?!"
In the next instant, the monster crushed the blade easily, like it was paper—along with Lark's last shred of hope. He collapsed to the ground in shock.
The Vulcan savored the boy's fear, approaching slowly, panting, tongue hanging out.
Until, from above, the two heard a thunderous laugh:
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Startled, they looked up and saw a figure falling from the sky, laughing like he was having the time of his life.
Sensing danger, the Vulcan leapt backward. Lark was still frozen in confusion.
'What the hell is he laughing at...?' Lark thought, completely baffled.
The figure landed right in front of Lark, creating a crater and kicking up a cloud of dust.
"BWAHAHAHAHA! Haven't felt this full of energy in ages!" the man said cheerfully, then turned to Lark with a wide grin:
"Yo, brat! You okay?"
It was Garp.
Lark took a moment to respond, still confused.
"Yeah… Wait, no! What the hell are you doing here?!"
Garp casually picked his nose with his pinky finger and calmly replied, "I heard a brat screaming and came to help. Isn't it obvious?"
"How the hell is that helping by running straight to your death?! If you wanted to help, why didn't you go to a village to get a rescue team or something?! Now we're both screwed!"
Still relaxed, Garp blew the dirt off his pinky and said, "Brat, I am the rescue."
Lark looked like he was about to explode with frustration—until he noticed the Vulcan was on high alert toward the newcomer.
As Lark turned his attention to the giant ape, Garp did the same.
"Hey, monkey. I'm in a really good mood. So I'll give you one chance: leave, and I won't kick your ass."
Upon hearing that, the Vulcan turned red with rage, furious at being underestimated by a human.
"Stupid human! Ugly human! Kill human!"
The Vulcan clenched its massive fist and, using the power in its legs, leaped toward Garp, ready to crush the man who had dared insult it.
Garp grinned wildly and said, "Don't say I didn't give you a chance! BWHAHAHA!"
Mimicking the ape, he closed his fist and intercepted the Vulcan's punch with his own.
BANG!!
The two fists collided with a thunderous crash. The Vulcan looked confused. It had expected to crush the human, but it didn't even budge him.
How could that tiny human fist match its power? It made no sense!
"That's it? BWHAHAHAHA! I expected more!" Garp laughed heartily, glaring at the Vulcan in challenge.
Even angrier, the Vulcan unleashed a barrage of punches, and Garp, still laughing, blocked them all with his own, creating gusts of wind around them.
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
"GRAAAAAAAWWRRR!"
Behind Garp, Lark dropped to the ground, shielding himself from the wind that flung stones and branches all around.
'What the hell is going on?!' he thought, exasperated at the scene unfolding before him.
Moments later, the Vulcan stopped, panting and exhausted. Its previously sadistic expression now looked pitiful.
Garp, on the other hand, hadn't even broken a sweat.
"BWAHAHAHA! That was a good warm-up! Now it's my turn!"
"!"
Realizing what he meant, the Vulcan stared at him in fear. Garp's grin was sinister—a silent promise of pain.
Wasting no time, the Vulcan turned and tried to flee.
"Huh? Where the hell do you think you're going, you coward?!" Garp yelled as he saw it flee. Not about to let it escape without discipline, he stomped the ground several times in quick succession, using Soru for the first time since waking up.
In a blink, he disappeared—and reappeared in front of the Vulcan.
Shocked, the Vulcan tried to stop, skidding across the ground as it stared at Garp in horror.
"You think you can run from me? Only in your dreams!"
Garp then punched the Vulcan in the gut. The creature folded over, eyes bulging, and was launched backward, crashing through several trees before hitting the ground unconscious.
Flexing his muscles, Garp looked disappointed.
'I really am a lot weaker…'
During that brief exchange, Garp realized a few things:
First, his strength was drastically reduced—roughly 5% of his original power.
Second, his Haki was also significantly weaker. Though he managed to use a little during the fight, he couldn't access either Armament or Observation Haki. He could feel them, as if they were there—but something blocked him, like a locked door inside him.
And third… he was starving.
Turning to Lark, who was still staring at him wide-eyed, Garp grinned.
"Hey, snot-nosed brat! Got any food?"