One Piece: Blood Clan

"The treasure's location must be here. I should search nearby—there must be some yield."

The wine cellar's location was unusual. Isolated in a remote corner with no other structures around, it stood alone. Burs circled the area but found nothing of note.

"If it isn't outside, could it be hidden inside the cellar?"

In this small town, aside from the peculiar two-angled wine cellar—a property owned by his family and considered part of their domain—there were other odd buildings. Yet none evoked the sinister aura of a demon. Confident that the cellar was indeed on his family's land, Burs decided to avoid unnecessary attention and slip inside.

At the entrance, a kindly old man in his sixties guarded the door. Oblivious to Burs's presence, he paid no heed as the young vampire silently infiltrated the cellar.

Once inside, Burs methodically scoured every inch. His perseverance paid off when, while shifting a barrel of wine, he discovered that the floor beneath was hollow. With minimal effort, he pried the panel open—revealing a pitch-black secret passage.

Thanks to his night vision, Burs could clearly see that the narrow corridor, although eerie in appearance, was merely an old set of stairs. Step by step he descended until a massive red door emblazoned with a colossal bat-head came into view. He suspected this must be the entrance to the family treasury. What lay beyond was unknown—but the anticipation was intoxicating.

As he placed his hand on the door and prepared to push it open, a set of sharp, fang-like spikes suddenly erupted from the surface, lancing into his flesh. His eyes flared red as the door's mechanism seemed to come alive in response.

Startled, Burs instinctively stepped back.

"Creak… creak…"

A high-pitched, unearthly shriek began to echo down the sealed tunnel—its sound reverberating and sending chills down his spine. Yet after a few agonizing moments, the cacophony subsided. The bat-head emblem on the door dimmed to silence, and a narrow gap slowly split open, revealing a room utterly devoid of light.

"Now… I should be able to enter," Burs thought.

He pushed the door fully open. Inside, barely a few paces away, lay an ancient sword sheathed in a dark-red scabbard and a dull, matte box. As soon as his fingers brushed the sword's hilt, the treasure quest was marked complete by his system.

"Sure enough—this is the family's treasure," Burs murmured.

A stone slab beneath the blade bore its history in carved script:

"Demonic Blade 'Blood Drink'—forged by the very hands of the first patriarch of the Ikano family. Though its fame has not spread far beyond our borders, its rank rivals that of the legendary 'Supreme Great Cutter of Twenty-One Works.' Crafted through a secret technique, only a true Ikano may wield this blade without incurring a terrible curse."

Burs, though still young, could sense the blade's formidable aura. "Blood Drink… It certainly suits me," he mused.

Drawing the sword from its sheath, a soft, almost sentient hum emanated from it—as if it were acknowledging its new master.

"Very well," he declared to himself. "From now on, you shall be my companion in battle."

After safely stowing Blood Drink, Burs opened the adjacent chest. Inside lay an odd fruit—a spiky, durian-like object adorned with bizarre patterns.

Devil's Fruit!

Though he had expected something extraordinary, Burs was still taken aback to find a Devil's Fruit among his family treasures.

A small inscription in the box described it:

"Bat Fruit, Animal-Type."

He frowned thoughtfully. "Do I, a vampire, really need to transform into a bat? It does seem fitting, but I'll decide later. If the day ever comes when I wish to take flight, this fruit might just be the ticket."

In his previous contemplations of life in the pirate world, Burs had toyed with the idea of consuming a Devil's Fruit—ideally one of the Paramecia types like the Superman Fruit, as he held little interest in natural-type abilities.

In his eyes, the most extreme, overpowered powers belonged exclusively to the Superman category. Top-tier figures like Whitebeard and Golden Lion wielded such fruits, and in his estimation, they were the strongest of them all.

Having secured these treasures, Burs decided there was no longer any need to linger. Carefully restoring everything to its original state, he returned to the villa.

Days passed in a quiet, steady rhythm. Life in East Bro Village remained calm. Burs trained relentlessly, growing stronger each day. Although his pace of cultivation had slowed without the aid of human blood, his progress was still impressive. In just six months, he had reached Level 17, with his Dao Power soaring to an astounding 270—a remarkable feat for a child.

On the 183rd day since his arrival in the pirate world, East Bro Village continued its hardworking, humble routine.

Villagers toiled day in and day out, content in their simple, honest lives. Yet even in this peaceful setting, the shadow of evil lurked.

A pirate ship bearing a skull-and-crossbones flag slowly made its way toward the village. By sheer luck—or perhaps fate—a Navy patrol cruiser happened to pass near East Bro Village. However, the East Blue Navy was notoriously corrupt; patrols were infrequent, sometimes occurring only once or twice a month. In fact, the local Navy outpost near East Bro Village was little more than a band of inept misfits. Thus, if the pirates arrived, it was unlikely any timely Navy intervention would occur.

Aboard the pirate ship, one of the lookouts called out, "Captain, we've spotted a small village ahead!"

"Let me see," the captain replied, a towering man over three meters tall with a bushy beard and a wild, primitive look. He peered through a massive telescope that, in his calloused hands, resembled nothing more than a large water bottle.

Night had fallen, and the villagers were sound asleep—unaware of the impending calamity.

A ragtag group of pirates, clad in tattered garments, stealthily approached the village. Having not set foot on land for nearly a month due to their unreliable navigator, they were eager for a chance to resupply. Gazing upon the prosperous village, they longed to launch an all-out raid. But their captain had not yet given the order, so no one dared make the first move.

Fifteen minutes later, the pirates had infiltrated the town.

"Charge, you miserable lot!" the captain roared.

His bellow cut through the silence like a knife. Many villagers, roused from deep sleep, barely had time to react before their doors were blasted open—and before death struck in a flash of brutal violence.