The first months on the island felt like an eternity. Erwin adapted to its rhythms, learning to listen to its sounds, read its patterns, and respect its dangers. He soon found himself moving through the dense forest as if it were second nature. The island was unforgiving, but it was also teeming with life, and as the weeks turned into months, he no longer felt like a foreigner here.
Initially, he struggled with the most basic challenges: finding steady food sources, creating shelter, and developing a routine that would keep him strong without pushing him to the brink of exhaustion. The constant training and strain of using his Devil Fruit powers drained him, and the soreness in his muscles became a near-constant reminder of his physical limitations. But his determination never wavered. He wasn't merely surviving—he was growing.
He began each morning with a run along the forest's edge, using the rocky coastline to build his agility and endurance. Dodging branches, vaulting over roots, and sprinting through the sand, he pushed himself until every muscle burned. The grueling exercises transformed his body, building his strength and increasing his resilience to the island's challenges.
During one of his morning runs in his second month, he encountered an enormous snake coiled on a sunlit rock. It struck at him, its jaws wide and teeth gleaming, but Erwin sidestepped with an instinct he hadn't possessed before. Instead of fleeing, he felt a surge of calm confidence as he used his Blood Sword to defend himself, delivering a precise blow that felled the creature. The encounter made him realize that he was no longer a helpless stranger here—he was becoming part of the island itself.
Erwin's control over his Blood Flow technique advanced steadily as well. By channeling and controlling his blood in smaller, efficient amounts, he became adept at forming thin threads and small barriers for brief moments, using them like invisible fingers to manipulate items without touching them. While he couldn't hold the blood in place for long without tiring, his ability to control and direct the flow of his blood became smoother, and he discovered that he could change its density, allowing him to switch between fluidity and hardness in the blink of an eye.
Even with this growing skill, there was no room for complacency. The island's landscape presented new challenges as he ventured further. The thick forest gave way to cliffs, and several small streams flowed into murky ponds teeming with life. He'd learned the hard way to avoid certain areas: the dark ponds held a nasty species of leech that latched onto his legs, forcing him to use his blood to pry them off.
Despite these setbacks, the island provided more resources than he'd anticipated. By midyear, Erwin had discovered how to trap small animals for meat, using snares crafted from flexible vines and animal bones. He also found a variety of edible plants, including a tuber with a starchy consistency and berries that, after cautious trial and error, he deemed safe to eat. His diet, though simple, was enough to sustain his training, and he crafted makeshift tools—stone-tipped spears, rough knives—to assist him in daily tasks.
As the weeks turned into months, Erwin grew increasingly adept with the Blood Sword, refining its shape and functionality. In the beginning, the blade had been crude, barely able to hold its form without dissolving into droplets. But with time, he could summon it instantly, shaping it as solid and sharp as steel. The blade became his most reliable tool, an extension of his own body that he could adjust to any situation.
He experimented with different variations, testing lengths and widths, and adjusting the blade's thickness to suit his needs. He could form a thin, dagger-sized knife for hunting and survival tasks or a longer, heavier blade for defense against the island's more dangerous inhabitants. His favorite version was a medium-length sword, about the size of his forearm, which he could wield quickly and with precision.
Maintaining the Blood Sword took intense focus, but it became easier with practice. He found that pacing his breathing and steadying his thoughts helped him keep the blade stable for longer periods. While he still felt fatigued from prolonged use, his stamina grew, and he was able to hold the Blood Sword steady even during rapid, continuous swings.
One evening, he decided to test the blade's durability in a more extended session. He practiced for hours, using the blade to cut through logs, vines, and small trees, testing its limits. The process left him exhausted, the blood loss taking its toll on his body, but he felt a surge of pride as he collapsed beside the campfire that night. He was no longer experimenting—he was mastering the blade.
Over the months, the seasons shifted, bringing new challenges. The dry season made finding fresh water difficult, forcing Erwin to dig deeper into the island in search of small ponds and shaded pools. His daily routine adapted to the heat, with runs scheduled for the cooler mornings and evenings, and midday reserved for tasks in the shade.
During one particularly brutal dry season, he spent days rationing what little water he had and devising makeshift ways to collect dew from leaves at dawn. He learned the hard way that his Devil Fruit powers drained him faster in the heat, the effort of controlling his blood making him thirstier and more prone to dehydration. It was a brutal lesson in self-restraint, and he scaled back his use of Blood Flow during these months, relying on his growing physical strength instead.
When the rains came, the island transformed into a maze of muddy paths and slick rocks, each step a test of balance and patience. The heavier rains turned his camp into a swampy mess, but the abundance of freshwater revitalized him, allowing him to resume his more intense training. He fashioned a covered shelter with a sloped roof from broad leaves, allowing him to stay dry as he worked on his Blood Sword in the damp, misty mornings.
He also made a habit of climbing trees to keep watch over the coast, looking for any signs of passing ships. On one occasion, he caught a glimpse of a distant vessel, a small dot against the horizon, but it vanished before he could see what flag it bore. The sight left him feeling both hopeful and uneasy, a reminder that his isolation could end at any moment.
As he neared the end of his first year, Erwin found himself looking back on the progress he'd made. The island, once a place of survival, had become his home and his training ground, a place where he had honed himself into something stronger, more capable than he'd ever thought possible. He could wield the Blood Sword as naturally as his arm, his swings were fluid and precise, and his control over Blood Flow was sharper than ever.
He'd also gained a deeper respect for the powers within him. While he had once seen his abilities as a curiosity, they had become an essential part of his existence. His blood manipulation allowed him to interact with the world in a way that was both brutal and beautiful, a testament to the strange, dark gift that had brought him to this world. Yet, he remained wary of overusing his abilities, always cautious of the dizzying fatigue that came from pushing too far.
One quiet morning, he reflected on his time here. His hair had grown longer, his face was rough with stubble, and his hands were calloused from months of labor. He'd built a small camp complete with a fire pit, stone tools, and a sturdy shelter. Everything felt like it belonged to him, crafted with effort and care. He had become part of the island, and it, in turn, had shaped him.
As he finished his morning training, a large boar wandered into the clearing, rooting through the soil near his shelter. Erwin watched it carefully, remaining still as he assessed its size and strength. He'd hunted smaller boars before, but this one was larger, more muscular. The encounter would test his skill with the Blood Sword, and he felt a thrill of anticipation as he prepared for the hunt.
Quietly, he summoned the Blood Sword, the blade forming instantly in his hand, gleaming a dark red in the morning light. He took a deep breath, crouching low, and moved forward, each step deliberate and silent. When he was close enough, he lunged, the blade raised.
The boar reacted immediately, letting out a guttural snort as it charged toward him. Erwin dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding its sharp tusks, and swung the Blood Sword in a wide arc. The blade sliced across the boar's flank, cutting deep but not enough to fell it. The animal reeled back, its eyes wild with pain and fury.
Erwin steadied himself, gripping the sword tighter, his heart pounding. He met the boar's charge head-on, sidestepping and delivering another precise cut, this time to its neck. The boar staggered, and with a final thrust, he brought the blade down, ending the hunt.
As he knelt beside the fallen animal, catching his breath, he realized how far he'd come. A year ago, he would have run from a creature like this; now, he was calm and controlled, his powers an extension of himself.
He spent the evening preparing the boar's meat over the fire, feeling a quiet pride settle over him. The stars began to shine over the dark sky. After the meat was ready, he started munching down the juicy tender meat, savouring every bite. Who knows how often he can eat meat over the campfire like this under the starry night? He finished the meat and moved onto his bed, preparing to sleep. The next day, he will make the most of it.