Chương 118: The Real Power Lies with Rosh

"Ah!" In his half-human, half-bat form, Lucien slammed into the tree with such force that it trembled violently, scattering leaves and alarming nearby pedestrians. He groaned audibly, falling to the ground with a loud thud.

"What's going on?"

"What just happened?"

"Is he okay?" Passersby paused, their curiosity and concern piqued by the unusual sight.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Lucien called out hurriedly, reverting to his human form. He brushed himself off with exaggerated nonchalance, offering the crowd a sheepish smile.

"Just a little accident—nothing to worry about!" Despite his assurances, the onlookers couldn't help but notice his tattered clothing and the strange circumstances. Still, they chose to shrug it off, muttering among themselves as they continued on their way. Relieved, Lucien straightened his posture, brushed the remaining dirt from his clothes, and strode confidently back into the Home of the Devil Fruits. His expression was one of unabashed triumph.

"Lucien, this is insane," Morbius said as he approached, his tone a mixture of exasperation and worry. His brow furrowed deeply as he added, "Do you have any idea what you looked like out there? You looked like..."

"A monster?" Lucien interjected with a dreamy smile, cutting him off.

"Morbius, didn't you see? I was flying! And the strength—I nearly knocked that tree over!" Morbius sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"Lucien," he began again, trying a different approach, "if you're set on buying a Zoan-type fruit, why not choose a better one? The Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Falcon, for example. I'll cover the difference if it's about the price." To Morbius, the Falcon Model was an obvious upgrade. It had similar abilities but symbolized power, grace, and freedom—qualities far more appealing than the eerie traits associated with bats. Lucien, however, shook his head resolutely.

"No, Morbius. I've relied on others my whole life—especially you. This time, I want to do it on my own." His voice was steady and unwavering, leaving no room for argument. Turning back to Rosh, Lucien spoke with finality.

"Shopkeeper, I've made my decision. The Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Bat—it's the one I want." Rosh nodded, respecting his customer's resolve.

"As you wish." Lucien didn't waste any time. Despite the immense effort required to haul in the necessary gold, he insisted on doing it himself. Morbius, though reluctant, ultimately helped, albeit with a scowl. Once the payment was complete, Rosh handed over the fruit, officially finalizing the transaction. Lucien was now the proud owner of the Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Bat, and the transformative power that came with it. He was fully prepared for the judgment and prejudice that might come his way.

He knew Zoan-type abilities, especially ones as peculiar as his, were bound to provoke strong reactions. Still, he anticipated far worse criticism from others than the hesitant disapproval he'd faced from Morbius. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. With the fruit secured and his powers unlocked, Lucien and Morbius left the shop, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Meanwhile, the scene in Hell's Kitchen was starkly different across town.

In the dimly lit safe house, tension hung heavy in the air as a disciple of the Chaste delivered a game-changing report to Stick, the group's hardened leader.

"In the recent conflict, the Hand suffered devastating losses—113 members killed, including three of the Five Fingers of the Hand: Madame Gao, Bakuto, and Murakami. Murakami's apprentice, Shin, is also confirmed dead. Their remains were cremated by Kingpin, and their ashes scattered at sea to ensure they cannot be resurrected." Stick's usually stoic expression faltered, his breath catching in his throat.

"Are you certain?"

"Without a doubt, Master," the disciple replied. The significance of the news was staggering. The Hand had been an unstoppable force for years, their leaders shrouded in invincibility. Now, their foundation had been shattered.

"Those bastards... gone for good!" Stick exclaimed, his voice breaking into an uncharacteristic laugh of triumph. Elektra, who had been leaning against the wall, her arms crossed in skepticism, raised an eyebrow. She had doubted Stick's gamble of using Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, to weaken the Hand. Yet here they were, witnessing the fruits of that risky plan.

"Fisk did all this?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief. Stick shook his head, his sharp mind already dissecting the situation.

"I doubt it's that straightforward. Something unexpected must've happened. What really went down?" The disciple hesitated briefly before replying, "When Kingpin was on the brink of defeat, Rosh, the owner of the Home of the Devil Fruits, intervened. He destroyed the Hand with overwhelming force, turning the tide of battle." The revelation left both Stick and Elektra stunned. Stick frowned deeply, his mind racing.

Though he had heard rumors of Rosh as the enigmatic shopkeeper of the mystical fruits, he hadn't imagined the man capable of such extraordinary power.

"So, it wasn't Fisk who ended this—it was Rosh," Stick muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Fisk just happened to reap the rewards." Elektra's shock quickly gave way to determination. Her thoughts turned toward vengeance, her voice tinged with barely concealed anger.

"Stick, with three Fingers dead, we're more than strong enough to take on the remaining two. And we can finally deal with Fisk and avenge Matt once the Hand is gone!" Stick's gaze hardened, his voice cutting through her fervor like a blade.

"Elektra. When will you understand? Emotion clouds judgment. Attachment is a weakness. Matt's death should've driven that lesson home." Elektra opened her mouth to argue but caught the icy steel in Stick's eyes. She clenched her fists, biting back her retort, though the fire of vengeance still smoldered in her eyes. Stick turned away from her, his resolve unwavering.

"Fisk will meet his end in time. But our fight isn't over yet. The Hand still poses a threat, and we'll finish the job we started. Everything else can wait." The safe house fell silent, save for the faint crackle of a nearby candle. Though the Hand had been dealt a crushing blow, Stick and Elektra both knew their battle was far from over. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Next Chapter: Under No Circumstances Should We Provoke That Shopkeeper!

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