The first thing Lucian did that morning after coming back was finally take care of Marcus's shriveled corpse. The lingering, unsettling presence of the body had been an unpleasant reminder. He was getting tired of seeing that shit.
Dragging what remained of his former betrayer outside, into the wan, artificial light of the Underworld's perpetual twilight, and incinerating the body with a simple fire spell felt both practical and deeply symbolic.
The flames, crackling with an almost hungry intensity, consumed the withered flesh and bones quickly, reducing them to fine, insubstantial ash that scattered quickly in the faint, unseen currents of air.
It was as if he was truly closing the chapter on who he used to be with this act. The weak, desperate devil clinging to mere survival, always on the brink of being consumed himself, was gone. Burned away with the very bones of the man whose essence had fueled his rebirth, a visceral shedding of his old skin.
After returning inside, the faint scent of smoke a lingering trace of his actions, he barely lasted ten seconds before he started pacing. A boundless, almost manic energy crackled under his skin like contained lightning, the remnants of yesterday's action. He felt lighter, freer, more alive than ever before.
As he paced, a myriad of golden portals blinked into existence all around the cramped room, appearing with an almost magical hum and closing with satisfying vwoop-vwoop sounds. Each blink shimmering into existence with ethereal grace before vanishing again, each one a testament to the sheer, unbelievable power he now commanded.
Every time it happened, every time a portal materialized before his eyes, Lucian couldn't help but giggle like a madman, a sound of pure, unadulterated childish delight.
And then…
A high-pitched, almost girlish squeal escaped his throat, a sound utterly unbecoming of a devil or a budding cosmic merchant in his humble opinion.
He froze, mid-stride, the embarrassing sound echoing mortifyingly in the sudden silence of the room. He quickly coughed a desperate attempt to cover it, and glanced around frantically, as if someone, anyone, might have heard that undignified outburst.
"...Ahem," he cleared his throat, attempting to regain some semblance of composure, forcing a more masculine rumble into his voice.
But then his lips split into an irrepressible, wide grin, and he squatted down, rocking on his heels, arms wrapped around his knees as he dissolved into uncontrolled giggling once more. The sheer, overwhelming absurdity and wonder of it all was simply too much to contain.
He had the Gate of Babylon. THE GATE OF BABYLON. The King of Heroes' personal treasury, now his to command. And not just the Gate, he had Enkidu, the divine chains capable of binding even the gods, an absolute counter to beings of divinity. And Ea, the freaking Sword of Rupture, the god-slaying, world-tearing blade that could annihilate space itself with a single swing, a weapon of such destructive magnitude that it felt almost unreal in his possession.
Oh, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't stop the loud squeal, the ecstatic laughter. Was such an outburst unbecoming of a man, let alone a devil seeking to become a formidable power? Yes. Absolutely. Was he going to stop? NO. Because he was beyond happy right now, truly, genuinely happy for the first time in… well, ever since his reincarnation, perhaps even before that.
And he wasn't about to suppress that pure, undiluted joy just to maintain some stoic facade. He had earned this happiness through years of blood, betrayal, and desperate gambles of everyday life, and he would revel in every moment of it.
Eventually, the initial burst of exhilaration subsided, and he settled down, sprawling across his old, worn chair like a satisfied cat after a particularly good meal, the afterglow of triumph warming him from the inside out.
But the joy faded, just slightly, as his pragmatic, calculating side, honed by years of harsh survival, inevitably crept back in. As amazing and utterly game-changing as his haul from Gilgamesh was, it didn't make him invincible. Not yet.
The Gate itself, while incredible, didn't mean much if he didn't have the raw power, the innate skill, or sufficient mana reserves to consistently summon it, and besides that, it was empty with only two items in it, powerful sure but still only two. And even the two weren't things he could use at their full potential. Ea alone, he instinctively knew, would likely drain him dry after a single activation, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted and even all his power won't be enough to make a proper shot. He needed more than just weapons, he needed the capacity to wield them effectively.
He needed more.
More power. More resources....More deals. A deeper foundation upon which to build an empire, to ensure he never again faced the helplessness of his past.
He reached inward, seeking the ethereal threads of his Meta Essence, and felt for the connection to the Type-Moon world. To his surprise and immense relief it was still there, a faint, golden string linking him to that reality.
He had been a little afraid that he would need to pay again to access it, a continuous drain on his lifespan for mere visitation rights, but it seemed he didn't need to worry about that. A small blessing, indeed, given the current limitations of his lifespan reserves.
So what and where did he need to go next? He tentatively reached out, trying to navigate towards a later point in the Type-Moon timeline, perhaps the Grail War eras, where power was more condensed and opportunities might be rife.
But suddenly, he felt a distinct rejection, a firm, invisible barrier that wouldn't budge, pushing his mental probe away. He frowned, tried again, harder this time, focusing his will, envisioning the distinct magical signatures of the modern era. Same result. Nothing happened.
He focused deeper, activating his Essence, asking it for an explanation, for the mechanics of this limitation. While his powers didn't speak in words, it was still able to convey the reason somehow, a clear understanding through intuitive feeling.
It seemed that when he opened a portal to a particular era in a specific world, that world would then be locked to that exact era for subsequent visits.
Meaning, right now, the Type-Moon world was irrevocably stuck in Gilgamesh's ancient era, the Age of Gods. And Gilgamesh in his full golden ego glory? Lucian was in no rush to deal with that again, especially without a new, compelling, truly unique offer that would pique the King's interest.
He felt a warm, knowing pulse from his powers, as if to say 'You could change it… for a price'. The implication was clear, he could pay to unlock another era, to shift his temporal access point, but it would come at the expense of more lifespan.
Of course. Everything had a cost. he had a feeling he'd have to start getting use to that. Lucian sighed and shook his head. Not worth it. Not yet.
As much as he wanted to potentially get something else from the Type-Moon universe, perhaps a spellbook from the Clock Tower, or a conceptual weapon from the depths of its mythology, he didn't know what exactly he'd target, and he wasn't going to keep wasting his only limited resource at the moment, his precious lifespan, for something uncertain. He'd shelve the Type-Moon world for now, a valuable but temporarily inaccessible resource.
But he still needed a new target. A world rich in opportunity. A world full of power that wasn't locked behind convoluted bloodlines, soul stuff, or arcane, divinity. He wanted something more straightforward, more directly applicable to his needs for growth. He sat down, eyes narrowing in thought, running through every anime, manga, and game he could recall from his old life, searching for the perfect crucible of power and resources, a place where his Merchant Essence could truly flourish.
And then it hit him. Like a bolt from the blue, a flash of insight that ignited a slow, predatory smile.
One Piece.
His lips slowly curved into a wide, excited grin.
It was perfect.
That world had exactly what he wanted, simple but powerful abilities like Haki and devil fruits, which was less about innate magical reserves or complex spellcasting and more about spiritual strength, willpower, and rigorous training, something he could potentially cultivate himself without relying on external magical resources.
And that world had a lot of resources, be it vast amounts of gold from pirate hoards or sunken ships, legendary weapons like the twelve Saijo Ô Wazamono, or the numerous Devil Fruits scattered across the Grand Line. Most importantly, it offered natural power-ups like Devil Fruits themselves, each granting unique, distinct abilities.
The pirate world ran on loot and bounties, on the raw pursuit of treasure and power, and its economy, though volatile, was built on easily quantifiable assets. And where there was treasure and problems...
A merchant thrived.
Lucian was a Merchant now. the moment this power awaken it became fixed. It was going to be his path, his identity, his very method of rising to the top. He didn't want to keep spending his lifespan as his only resource for every transaction, that was an unsustainable business model.
If he could get into the One Piece world, he could gather Devil Fruits to not only use himself but also to sell or trade to other powerful entities, devils, angels, or even ambitious humans in the Underworld, all will want a piece of it. He could amass vast amounts of gold and unique items that he could find within the world of pirates, transforming them into a diverse portfolio of valuable assets.
He could even envision interdimensional auctions one day, selling unique treasures and Devil Fruits to the highest bidders from across different realities, establishing himself as an unparalleled purveyor of power.
He could build immense wealth. And for him, wealth was power literary. He would have influence, and the resources to further his own abilities.
But he needed to think carefully. This wasn't a world he wanted to casually plunder.
The timeline mattered immensely. He couldn't just drop in anywhere. There were a ton of "perfect" moments to intervene, moments ripe for exploitation, but very few where he had something to offer that wouldn't completely destabilize the world or, worse, directly interfere with the narrative he held so dear.
He thought of Ace. Of the Marineford War, the pivotal moment that reshaped an era and broke countless hearts. If he had something truly unique, like Phoenix Tears that could regenerate anything or a guaranteed cure for fatal illnesses, he might've gone there. Made a deal to save Ace, perhaps for a portion of Whitebeard's power. But he didn't. Not yet.
He thought about Kuma, trying to reach Ginny, struggling against his fate and the slow decay of his humanity. But Lucian had no way to cure her fatal illness either. Another opportunity lost a poignant regret that echoed his own past helplessness.
There were moments, so many moments, so many tragic or pivotal events that would present an oppotunity for him, but they all required specific leverage he didn't yet possess, a unique commodity or ability to make a truly deal. He clenched his fists, frustrated by his current limitations.
He didn't want to mess with the timeline. Not there. Not in that world.
That was personal. It wasn't for anything like the timeline is sacred or anything, this was personal and selfish.
As a diehard One Piece fan in his past life, Lucian wanted to see Monkey D. Luffy become the Pirate King. He wanted to witness the revelation of the One Piece with his own eyes, to experience the culmination of that grand adventure, a dream from his former existence that still held immense emotional weight.
He didn't want to ruin that just, no matter how tempting. He would not upset the natural balance of that cosmos, for one piece is cosmic, not if he could help it, not if he wanted to savor the journey alongside the Straw Hats, albeit from a distance, as a spectator and a silent benefactor.
.....
But that didn't mean he couldn't visit.
Not to interfere(too much, because he was going to anyway). Not to change the narrative.
But to trade. He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, the predatory glint returning to his mismatched eyes.
"Alright," he murmured, the words barely audible in the quiet room. "Now where should I go."
He reached inward, channeling his will through the Meta Essence, offering 1,000 years same as last time, and same as last time it rejected, well cant blame a guy for trying.
He tried again but this time lower than the 5000 he used the first time around, giving up 4000 and it seemed to work, guess he had just been in a hurry when he went to Typemoon and had not considered haggling with his power.
The Essence accepted. The subtle, affirming pulse resonated through him, a familiar signature of a deal sealed.
The deal was made.
And in the next moment, Lucian felt the world ripple again, reality bending and twisting with a familiar sensation, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds washing over him as a new world opened before him.
A vision of a world of vast blue skies, stretching infinitely above him.
Of lawless, boundless seas, teeming with adventure and danger.
Of Devil Fruits and Kings, of pirates and marines, of legends in the making.
Of Freedom.
As the void of endless colors whirled around he thought to himself where and when he wanted to go to.
"Now where should I drop off at."
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