The fire crackled softly, casting warm orange light across the clearing. Elric sat cross-legged in front of the flames, slowly rotating a skewer of meat over the heat. Fat dripped down, hitting the fire with a satisfying sizzle, and the smell of roasted venison filled the air around him.
He'd kept the seasoning simple—salt, some crushed herbs he'd found in the forest, a few wild spices he'd foraged over the past weeks. Nothing fancy. But every bite was incredible. Juicy, rich, full of natural, primal flavor. No preservatives, no artificial additives, no processing plants or chemical treatments. Just pure meat from an animal that had lived free in these woods until a few hours ago.
Compared to the store-bought stuff from his previous life? This was absolute paradise.
"This stuff's a thousand times better than anything I've ever bought," Elric mumbled through a mouthful, licking the grease from his fingers with satisfaction.
He finished his meal quickly, savoring every single bite until nothing remained but clean bones. When he was done, he cleaned up the area around the fire, making sure no scraps were left to attract predators during the night. Then he brushed his teeth with ash and a handmade brush—not the most pleasant method, but it worked well enough out here.
The night sounds of the forest surrounded him on all sides. Crickets chirping in steady rhythm, wind rustling gently through the leaves overhead, the occasional hoot of an owl echoing from somewhere deeper in the woods. It was peaceful, calm, safe.
He stepped back inside the cabin, lay down on his straw mattress, and pulled the thick fur blankets over himself. The weight was comforting, warm against the cool night air seeping through the wooden walls. The silence lulled him gradually, his breathing slowing, becoming deep and even. His thoughts drifted away like clouds.
Sleep came quickly, pulling him under like a gentle tide.
But just as his mind sank deep into dreamland, his body vanished. Gone without a trace—no sound, no flash of light, no ripple in reality. Just gone.
A strange weightlessness gripped him suddenly, and his consciousness stirred, awareness returning in a rush. His eyes snapped open.
The ceiling above him was familiar. Too familiar. White paint, slightly yellowed with age, cracked in the corners. A flickering light bulb hanging from a wire, casting unsteady illumination.
"This... this is my room."
The exact same room from his previous life on Earth, down to the smallest details—the water stain in the upper right corner, the slight dip in the ceiling plaster, everything. He sat up quickly, heart pounding in his chest.
"This place again..."
Even though it looked identical to his old bedroom, perfect in every way, he knew the truth. This wasn't real in the traditional sense. It was a replica, a mental construct, a white space created specifically as a meeting point for the fragments of his soul scattered across different worlds and universes.
It was here, six months ago, that he'd first reunited with the version of himself from the One Piece world. That meeting had changed everything—given him power, knowledge, hope. And now he was back.
Hope surged through him like electricity. Was someone else here again? Another fragment?
He jumped to his feet and scanned the room quickly, eyes darting to every corner. And sure enough, sitting calmly at the computer desk, exactly where he'd been last time, was someone who looked almost exactly like him. Same build, same face, same basic features. But the posture was different—relaxed, casual. The energy radiating from him felt different too, more carefree, more adventurous.
"Hey! Man!" Elric called out, unable to contain his excitement.
The boy at the desk jolted at the sudden voice, spinning around in the chair with wide eyes. He blinked in surprise for just a moment, then confusion melted away, replaced by a wide, genuine grin.
"Yo! Long time no see!"
His voice was bright and cheerful, filled with natural enthusiasm—the kind of energy that belonged to someone who'd lived in a more exciting world than war-torn Sokovia. This was One Piece Elric. Sixteen years old, just like him, currently living in a small village somewhere in the East Blue.
"How long's it been for you?" One Piece Elric asked, stretching lazily in the chair like he'd just woken from a comfortable nap.
"Six months," Marvel Elric replied, stepping closer across the familiar bedroom floor. "And you?"
"Same. Weird, right?" One Piece Elric grinned wider. "Even though time flows totally differently in our worlds—different speeds, different rates—we both came here exactly six months later. Down to the day, probably."
"Yeah," Marvel Elric nodded slowly, processing that. "Guess it's synced somehow. Connected on a deeper level than just time."
He extended his right hand toward his counterpart, palm open. "Come on. Let's see how much stronger you've gotten."
Their connection allowed them to share everything through direct physical contact. A handshake was enough to transfer strength, experience, memories, skills—everything flowed between them through that simple touch. It was instantaneous, complete.
But there was something important about how this sharing actually worked in practice. Marvel Elric couldn't train the borrowed powers himself. If he exercised or practiced hard in the Marvel world, pushing his body to its limits, the improvements only affected his original baseline—his normal human body. The enhanced abilities he used day to day were like a stream flowing from One Piece Elric, a connection, a shared pool of strength. Only when One Piece Elric grew stronger through his own training and experiences could Marvel Elric grow stronger as well.
It was like trying to level up a game character using someone else's account—the connection existed, the power was accessible, but the actual growth had to happen at the source.
Just as their hands were about to meet, fingers almost touching, the room shook. Not violently, not like an earthquake—just a gentle tremor that ran through the walls and floor, making the light bulb swing slightly on its wire. A low hum filled the space, vibrating in the air itself, like reality was resonating at a frequency just barely audible.
They both froze instantly, hands extended but not quite touching yet.
"Someone's coming," Marvel Elric muttered, his heart beginning to race.
He'd seen this phenomenon once before. When One Piece Elric first appeared here six months ago, the room had done the exact same thing—a ripple in the fabric of this place, a spatial distortion, a new soul fragment crossing over from another world into this shared dream realm.
His pulse quickened with anticipation and excitement. Another one. Another version of himself. Another source of power, knowledge, experience.
"What kind of world is this next version from?" he wondered aloud.
The hum grew louder, more intense. The light flickered rapidly. Then a soft flash of light erupted in the center of the room—white, pure, gentle like dawn breaking through darkness. The brightness was almost blinding for a moment, forcing both older Elrics to squint and shield their eyes.
When the light faded, gradually dimming back to normal, a young boy stood there in the middle of the room.
Barely ten years old. Maybe younger. His hair was a fiery, vibrant red—messy and wild, sticking up in all directions like he'd just been running or fighting. His face bore a clear, unmistakable resemblance to both Marvel Elric and One Piece Elric—the same basic bone structure, the same underlying features, the same eyes, though younger and brighter.
But there was something distinctly different in his expression too. Something joyful, something untamed and completely free. Wild, almost. He had the cuteness of a child, the soft features and innocent appearance. But not the innocence itself. There was something else there, something more knowing, more experienced than a ten-year-old should be.
Marvel Elric and One Piece Elric stared in complete silence for several long seconds.
"A child...?" Marvel Elric finally whispered.
The realization hit them both at the exact same moment. They had assumed—without ever really discussing it explicitly or thinking it through—that only versions of themselves who were at least sixteen years old could appear here. Old enough to have awakened their past-life memories naturally through age and maturity, old enough to remember their death on Earth, to piece together what had happened, to understand the nature of their fragmented existence.
But clearly, that assumption was completely wrong. This boy had already awakened his memories somehow, despite his young age. Already connected to this place, already aware. Maybe there was no age rule at all governing when a fragment could access this white space. Maybe it was triggered by something else entirely—an accident, perhaps, a near-death experience that shocked the memories loose, some traumatic or profound event that broke through the barriers. Or maybe this particular fragment was just special somehow, different from the rest.
Marvel Elric and One Piece Elric exchanged a quick, meaningful glance—a silent communication passing between them. Then they both began approaching the red-haired boy slowly, carefully. Not threatening, not aggressive. Just curious.