The moment they stepped into the heart of the cavern, even someone like Brook—seasoned by countless tempests—couldn't help but gulp. Gold covered the floor like a tidal wave, gleaming so brightly it nearly blinded him.
"Brook! Brook! Let me down!" Barn called out, his voice filled with childlike curiosity. Hearing Brook's exclamation, he wriggled in his arms until Brook relented and set him down. Without wasting a moment, Brook began scooping up gold into a large sack.
Barn quickly wandered off, but with every few steps he took, a noticeable pile of gold would vanish—clearly stashed into his own pack. After a short while, Barn came running back, clutching a sword in his arms and shouting Brook's name excitedly.
"I'm here," Brook called back without stopping his gold collection. As Barn ran toward him, he tripped over a chest and tumbled to the ground.
"Ow! That hurts!"
Brook paused and walked over to help him up. Barn was still tightly holding the sword, and in frustration, he kicked aside the chest that had tripped him. Brook took one glance inside—and audibly gasped.
"What's in there?" Barn asked, sensing Brook's sudden tension.
Brook swallowed hard and pointed at the chest. "Two… two Devil Fruits."
Barn's eyes lit up. Two Devil Fruits—right there in the chest he had tripped over. It was the kind of luck that felt divinely ordained. He nudged Brook excitedly.
"Hey, hey! Brook! There's two fruits—and two of us! One each, right?"
Brook slung an arm over Barn's shoulders with a grin. "You lucky dog! From the shapes, they both look like Paramecia-types. We'll each take one! Haha!" He was just as thrilled—after all, even the most useless Zoan-type granted superhuman power. And Paramecia were a step above. In this world, Devil Fruits were power incarnate—and power ruled all. Their luck was truly extraordinary.
"Barn, this one's for you." Brook handed him one of the fruits. Barn received it with trembling hands—it was the very thing he had dreamed of. His blindness prevented him from seeing the fruit's patterns, so he gently traced them with his fingers.
"Smells nice... Not nearly as awful as the comics made them out to be."
Brook stowed away his own fruit, but his gaze lingered on the sword Barn was still clutching. When Brook had looked at it earlier, a chilling sensation had pierced straight into his mind. He shivered involuntarily.
"Barn, where did that sword come from?" he asked sharply.
"Huh? Oh, I found it by the chest I tripped on. There's something… different about it. I could feel my left hand twitching just holding it, so I picked it up."
"Let me see it," Brook said in a low voice.
Confused but compliant, Barn handed over the sword. The moment Brook gripped the hilt, the same icy aura surged through him again.
"This is…" He unsheathed the blade and saw crimson flame-like etchings pulsing along the metal. "A cursed blade…"
"What?" Barn couldn't see the markings, but he could sense the weapon's ominous nature from how it made his hand itch for battle. Brook's grave tone made his heart race.
Brook examined the blade carefully. With a soft swing, he brought it down on the chest that had once held the Devil Fruits. The solid brass container split in two with ease.
"Brook! That sword's amazing, right?" Barn asked eagerly.
"Second Generation Kitetsu," Brook muttered coldly as he slid the sword back into its sheath.
"Huh?" Barn froze. Of course he had heard of the legendary Kitetsu blades—the demon swords forged by the cursed swordsmith clan. The Supreme Grade First Generation was said to be in the hands of a member of the Five Elders. The Third Generation, a Grade Quality sword, was known to still rest in Loguetown. And this? This was the fabled Second Generation—a Great Grade cursed blade thought to have been lost.
"Barn," Brook said seriously, crouching down to his level and placing a hand on his shoulder, "you can't use this sword."
"Why not?!" Barn burst out. Come on! I practically tripped into a world-class treasure and you're telling me I can't even use it?
"Barn, this is a demon blade—one that brings misfortune to its wielder. Countless masters have died wielding it. It's a blade that turns on its owner."
Hearing this, Barn knew Brook was only looking out for him. He felt a wave of warmth in his chest. Still, he wasn't someone to back down. In his past life, he'd clawed his way to rank one as a Berserker in the national server of Dungeon & Fighter—purely through guts and grit. He wasn't about to let this blade scare him off.
He remembered a scene from One Piece, the one that had stirred his soul: Zoro tossing the cursed Third Generation Kitetsu into the air, betting his arm against its will to test his fate—and winning. It had thrilled him to no end back then. Now, it was his turn to take that gamble.
"Brook! Give me the sword!"
Brook was stunned by the rare steel in Barn's voice. Wordlessly, he handed the blade over.
Barn took it, unsheathing it slowly.
"I changed your fate from being forgotten. Now, I will conquer you. With your blade, we'll make our names known across this world. Second Generation Kitetsu! Let's see whether your curse is stronger—or my luck!"
With that, Barn tossed the blade into the air. As it spun downward, he extended his left arm—the one cursed by his pact as a Berserker—and held it beneath the falling sword.