Prologue: Chapter 2 - Survival on the Island

Erwin woke with the sunrise, a golden light filtering through the trees and casting shadows across the forest floor. The night had been cold and uncomfortable even with the fire that he struggled to start, the ground was unforgiving and his makeshift bed of leaves did nothing to ease his sore muscles. But waking up without losing any of his body parts to wild animals was enough.

The memories of the previous day flooded back, sharp and surreal. The letter, the Devil Fruit, and the realization that he was somehow in the world of One Piece, in a body that wasn't his. Yet here he was, alive and… somehow stronger. He flexed his hand, still amazed by this new reality.

As he stood, his stomach growled, and the gnawing hunger reminded him that he hadn't eaten since he'd bitten into that vile fruit. He needed food and water if he was going to survive. More than that, he needed a plan.

He looked at his surroundings. Dense trees surrounded him, with thick roots and vines twisting across the ground. The air was humid, and every few moments, he could hear distant birds and the rustle of unseen animals. The environment was unfamiliar, and he didn't know if any predators were lurking around.

'Step one: Water, he thought. If I can find a source, I can at least figure out how to stay hydrated.'

He set off in search of water, listening for the sound of a stream or river. It didn't take long before he found a small, clear stream trickling over rocks and winding through the forest. He crouched down, cupped his hands, and drank deeply. The water was cool and refreshing, easing the dryness in his throat and giving him a small surge of energy.

With his thirst sated, Erwin splashed some water on his face and took a long look at his reflection. His face stared back—young. But there was something else there, a glint in his green eyes that he didn't recognize from his old life.

Sighing, he turned away from the water. He needed to search for food next. He wandered along the stream, scanning for anything edible. After an hour of searching, he came across a bush filled with small red berries. Cautious, he plucked one and examined it, sniffing and inspecting it for anything that looked suspicious. He'd had some training in survival skills, but none of it had prepared him for a world where plants and animals could be completely different from what he'd known.

He popped a single berry onto his hand, checking the reaction. After a couple of minutes, there was no reaction and he began to eat it. The taste was slightly sour but tolerable. He ate a few more, filling his stomach to ease his hunger, even a little.

Now that he had food and water, his mind drifted back to the powers he'd discovered the day before. He looked down at his hand, willing the strange sensation from before to return. A small cut he'd sustained earlier was not visible anymore on his palm, maybe it was healed when he slept. He now focused on his right hand, trying to will his blood to emerge.

After a few seconds, a small droplet of blood rose from a new cut formed on his palm, hovering just above his skin. Fascinated, Erwin concentrated harder, trying to push the blood into shape. The droplet trembled, shifting and bending, but after a few seconds, it fell back onto his hand with a splat.

The effort left him dizzy, a faint ache spreading across his forehead. His body was protesting, reminding him of his limits. Just that small amount of manipulation had drained him.

'All right, one step at a time. This is tiring me out.' he thought, resting for a moment to catch his breath.

He spent the next few hours experimenting, testing his ability to control his blood in different ways. Slowly, he started to gain a little more control, managing to create basic shapes such as small balls. It wasn't much, and he could only hold them for a few seconds before his concentration faltered, but it was progress.

The more he practiced, the more he understood the limits of his new ability. For one, the dizziness and fatigue seemed directly tied to how much blood he manipulated. Every time he pushed himself too far, a wave of weakness hit him, leaving him lightheaded and exhausted.

Realizing he couldn't afford to drain himself entirely, he took breaks after every practice session to allow his strength to return. He gathered more berries, ate them slowly, and resumed training only after he felt his energy restored.

By midday, he managed to create a small, hardened blood shard about the size of a pocket knife. Holding it in his hand, he marveled at the sharpness, the way it gleamed faintly in the dappled sunlight. The blood was solid as hard as steel. He tested it against a nearby tree, swinging it experimentally. The shard sliced cleanly into the branch, cutting it.

A grin spread across his face. 'This could work.'

Erwin spent the rest of the day practicing with his new weapon, creating and dismissing the blood shard until he could summon it without thinking. The strain still affected him, but his endurance was growing, allowing him to hold the shape for longer each time.

As night began to fall, he built a small shelter near the stream, fashioning a crude roof from large leaves and branches. The forest grew darker, the shadows lengthening and merging, and the sounds of nocturnal creatures filled the air. The night was alive with rustling leaves, distant howls, and the occasional splash in the stream. The warmth of the fire he started slowly seeping into the shelter.

Inside his shelter, Erwin lay awake, listening to the unfamiliar sounds and thinking about what lay ahead. He was alone in this world, with a power he could barely control and no clear purpose beyond survival. Yet, despite all of this, he felt a strange thrill, an excitement that had been absent from his old life.

'I can't waste this chance,' he thought, staring up at the stars through gaps in the roof. 'I have to make this life count.'

The night passed fitfully, his sleep interrupted by strange dreams and the distant cries of animals. At dawn, he rose again, his body was aching like usual but his mind was quite well rested. He resumed his routine, eating a handful of berries for energy, catching fish, drinking from the stream, and heading out to explore more of the island.

As he ventured further, he discovered a wide variety of plant life, some with fruits and roots that looked edible. He gathered what he could, testing it on his hand to check if there was any harmful effect. It was slow, painstaking work, but by midday, he'd gathered a decent supply of food.

During one of his excursions, he encountered a strange creature—an enormous bird with bright red feathers and a curved beak that looked sharp enough to cut stone. The bird eyed him warily, its claws digging into the ground as it let out a low, threatening squawk. Erwin froze, his heart pounding as he realized the bird was eyeing him as if he were a threat… or maybe prey.

Instinctively, he focused on his blood, summoning a small, sharpened shard in his hand. The bird cocked its head, then lunged, wings flapping as it screeched. Erwin ducked, slashing upward with the blood blade. The blade made contact, leaving a thin slice on the bird's wing, and the creature recoiled, letting out an indignant cry before retreating into the trees.

Erwin exhaled, his heart racing. The encounter had been brief but enough to show him the potential of his abilities—and the dangers lurking on the island. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not for a second.

With each day that passed, he honed his techniques, training his body and mind to adapt to his new powers. He practiced his control over blood in basic shapes and shards. The strain gradually lessened, and he began to feel a sense of control, an understanding of how to channel the power without exhausting himself completely.

His days fell into a routine: foraging for food, fishing, drinking from the stream, training with his blood powers, and exploring the island. Each day felt like a step forward. He learned to move quietly, to listen for the faintest sounds, and to rely on his instincts.

And yet, every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of his old life—the mines, his coworkers, the moments leading up to the collapse. But instead of sadness, he felt only a growing resolve, a fierce determination to make this life mean something.

By the time the sun began to set, casting golden light across the forest, birds stopped singing in the trees and the crickets started to announce their presence.