Training, eating, and tying himself to a tree to rest.
This was Michion’s monotonous daily routine.
Despite being isolated on this giant plant island, Michion didn’t feel lonely due to the absence of people; instead, he felt an intense desire, a longing for the most exciting era soon to come!
However, Michion knew that without sufficient strength, he could only watch the tides of the era move forward or… be obliterated by them.
Every day spent here was painful and joyous for Michion, constantly honing his willpower.
The pain from pushing his training to the limit, the enjoyment of delicious food, and the agony of resisting its temptation became his daily life.
With continuous training, Michion’s appetite increased, and several times, he nearly succumbed to the delicious gluttony, forcing him to use a knife as a last resort.
Under the dual pressures and refinement of his body and will, Michion continuously transformed.
Even with his favorite fried chicken, cocoa milk, and tomato pasta available, Michion had to suppress his appetite.
To combat his increasing hunger, Michion set rules for himself.
For example, if he increased his food intake, he also had to increase his training volume by a quarter or a third.
As a result, his training volume grew to match his increasing need for energy.
This self-imposed cycle unknowingly created a positive feedback loop, allowing Michion to surpass himself constantly.
For three months, Michion followed this repetitive training routine daily.
Perhaps used to being alone, Michion never grew impatient with his continuous training.
His only diversion was occasionally getting a newspaper to see the world’s situation.
Speaking of which, it’s worth mentioning how Michion got the newspapers.
To date, Michion had yet to spend a penny on newspapers.
Of course, this wasn’t because Michion did something as crazy as killing a News Coo for its paper.
The News Coos had also become so round they couldn’t fly anymore…
Even the News Coo, let alone humans, couldn’t resist the island’s temptations.
So Michion often found newspapers on the ground without seeing the News Coos.
When resting on the island, Michion always tied himself to a tree to sleep to prevent the island from swallowing him as a snack during its feeding.
Each feeding period lasted about twenty days, depending on the number of prey and the island’s growth.
Michion didn’t know how the Stomach Baron sensed it, but he had his methods to cope.
First, the growth status of the island’s beasts.
If they were round and fat, it was almost time for Stomach Baron to feed.
Secondly, Michion’s central position on the island was advantageous; any tremors would be felt first, allowing him to react immediately.
Being on the outskirts would mean sliding down rapidly with the slope, making stopping impossible.
“Boom!” “Boom!” “Boom!”
With violent tremors and loud noises, all life on the island screamed in terror, sensing the danger and trying to flee.
But it was too late.
The beasts, now round as balls, had lost their ability to move correctly.
Whether it was the once-soaring eagles or the Sea Kings, their cries of despair marked their end.
They were too, too, too fat!
Addicted to the irresistible food, they didn’t notice their bodies growing, muscles turning to soft fat.
Now, this fat served as their ticket to hell.
Michion knew it was feeding time for Stomach Baron, which needed to harvest the fattened prey for its nutrients.
The “Stomach Baron” began its slow feast with the accompanying waves, rolling its well-fed prey into its maw amidst their desperate cries.
As soon as the ground trembled, Michion stopped his training.
Skillfully untying the rope from his waist, he quickly tied himself to a large tree, hugging it tightly as the island stood upright, pressing his body against the trunk.
This wasn’t a joke; even with the rope, it needed to be foolproof. The deeper inside, the more careful one had to be—falling meant straight into the stomach.
Adjusting his position early, Michion clung to the tree, watching the unfortunate “stuffed food” roll down.
From his vantage point, Michion could see the abyss below.
Beyond the visible edge was endless darkness, and once an animal or Sea King fell into it, silence followed.
“Help!!”
Suddenly, a man’s voice cried out near Michion.
Looking towards the sound, Michion saw a black, meatball-like figure resembling a “meatball” shouting continuously.
He tried to stop his descent, but his gluttony had turned him into a helpless meatball.
Despite his efforts, he could only crawl upward, struggling to distance himself from the abyss filled with prey.
“Damn it!!! You said it was safe!!” another meatball cursed nonstop.
“How was I supposed to know this island was like this?!” the black meatball retorted, sliding even faster, too scared to speak, climbing upward desperately.
Soon, the other cursed meatball had no time to scold as his body slid downwards with the island’s contraction.
Michion, clinging to the tree, looked across the abyss.
Accompanied by cries for help and curses, two pirate-dressed meatballs slowly slid from the outskirts.
Seeing them nearing the abyss, they grew anxious, a strange ability appearing on their bodies.
“Speed Aura!!”
“Snatch Lock!!”
With their shouts, Michion saw this world’s unique abilities for the first time.
Those were the abilities of the “Devil Fruits,” the secret treasures of the sea.
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