Deep within the wilderness, in a hidden glade, lay a serene pond, its still waters reflecting the sky above. Beneath the surface, half-buried in the mud, a turtle the size of a dinner plate made a solemn vow.
"Survive a hundred days," Arthur thought to himself, his mind sharp and resolute.
Arthur was no ordinary turtle. In his past life, he had been a young man of Earth, his name the same. Through fate's strange hand, he now found himself reincarnated in the Realm of Eldara, a world teeming with magic, monsters, and mysteries. Thankfully, Arthur retained the memories of his former life, giving him an edge against the perils of this fantastical land.
At the moment, his life depended on staying hidden. Only his nostrils poked through the mud's surface, releasing faint bubbles as he breathed.
Circling the pond, a pack of twenty wolves prowled, their amber eyes gleaming with malice. Atop a rocky outcrop nearby, the Wolf King stood vigilant, his silver fur shimmering in the moonlight.
Their hunt was relentless. Arthur could feel their fury, as though he had defiled their most sacred treasure. In truth, he had done nothing so dramatic—merely stolen a Demonic Fruit meant for the Wolf King's transformation into a higher being.
In Eldara, demons weren't just creatures of chaos. They were beasts who, with great effort, could ascend to humanoid forms imbued with immense power. Such ascension was impossible without the rare Demonic Fruit, which sprouted once every sixty years after a celestial event called the Starfall.
The Wolf King had staked his claim to the fruit that had ripened near the pond. His pack had driven off all rivals, patiently awaiting the fruit's maturation. But at the moment of its ripening, Arthur had emerged from the mud, stretched his neck, and plucked the fruit with practiced precision before vanishing into the depths of the pond.
The wolves had been incensed, their howls echoing through the forest. They had plunged into the water in an uncoordinated frenzy, desperate to retrieve the prize.
Arthur, however, had an advantage. He could hold his breath and lie motionless for hours. The wolves, while fierce predators, were poor swimmers and ill-suited for underwater pursuits.
Still, their persistence was unyielding. For seven days, they had lingered by the pond, diving repeatedly, their frustration growing. Each time Arthur surfaced for a quick breath among the lotus leaves, their sharp noses caught the faintest whiff of the fruit, spurring another frenzied assault.
At last, Arthur surfaced again, careful to disturb as little water as possible. His nostrils barely broke the surface when the Wolf King's growl sent his pack diving anew.
Arthur sank back to the bottom, withdrawing into his shell and relying on the algae-covered surface for camouflage. The wolves' sharp eyes scanned for movement, but the murky depths offered no clues.
As the pack retreated to shore once more, Arthur allowed himself a small exhale of relief. He knew he had to endure for a few more days. Soon, the pond's lotus leaves would spread fully, providing better cover. Each passing day also brought another advantage—the essence of the Demonic Fruit he had consumed was growing faint, making it harder for the wolves to track him.
Near the pond floor, a massive salamander lurked, its glossy body blending with the rocks. It waited patiently, its predatory instincts honed. A moment later, a gleaming silver fish swam too close, and the salamander struck with lightning speed.
Arthur watched from a distance before springing into action. With swift strokes, he darted forward, biting the fish in half and flipping the salamander over with surprising strength.
The salamander righted itself, glaring at Arthur in stunned disbelief.
"This turtle dares steal from me?" its beady eyes seemed to say.
Arthur ignored the creature, dragging his prize away. As he set the fish down, a curious object materialized—a glowing, golden dice. It hovered for a moment before rolling across the pond floor.
The fish, initially small, began to shimmer. When the dice settled on a three, the single fish multiplied into three identical ones, their scales glinting in the filtered sunlight.
Arthur chuckled to himself. This mysterious dice was his unique gift in this world, his "golden finger." Whenever he stole an item, the dice would appear, altering the stolen object. Sometimes it multiplied the object's quantity, size, or weight. On rarer occasions, it enhanced the object's quality.
It was the dice's magic that had transformed the Demonic Fruit into a radiant, blood-red gem of unparalleled potency, its effects so alluring that even its lingering scent drove the wolves mad.
Arthur hoped for a similar enhancement as he nudged the dice toward the fish again. When it landed on a four, the fish shimmered anew, releasing an aroma so rich it stirred the entire pond.
The salamander, driven wild by the scent, lunged for the fish, but Arthur repelled it with a sharp slap of his shell.
Satisfied, he began to feast.
On the shore, the Wolf King let out a mournful howl, echoed by his pack. Their frustration was palpable.
Beneath the water, Arthur savored his victory.