"Idiot."
The curse escaped the lips of the man in the cell as the memories flooded his mind.
He had been a gang leader on Earth. Just last night, in a brutal clash, he'd taken over forty knife wounds to kill his sworn enemy. Thankfully, he'd succeeded in taking the bastard down, but he'd lost consciousness right after.
When he awoke, he was in this strange, yet familiar, world: the world of One Piece.
Of course, he wasn't the he of last night anymore. His soul was now inhabiting the body of a pirate named Wilder Lucifer.
To be precise, it was a fusion. His soul had devoured half of Wilder's, and the remaining half had merged with his own in some bizarre way.
Through the merged memories, Wilder learned that the original owner of this body was a pirate, a rookie who'd only recently set sail. And now, he was in the depths of the great underwater prison, Impel Down, Level 2.
That's why Wilder had called his predecessor an idiot. The original Wilder had eaten a Devil Fruit before setting out to sea, but his inflated ego, a direct result of that power, had landed him in Impel Down.
In less than a year at sea, he'd slaughtered five villages, relying on his Devil Fruit ability to inflict heavy losses on the pursuing Marines.
However, the consequence of his arrogance was getting caught by the Navy before even reaching the New World, and being unceremoniously dumped into Impel Down.
In short, the previous Wilder was a small-time punk with an overinflated sense of his own abilities.
After absorbing these memories, Wilder forced himself to calm down.
He knew he'd transmigrated.
Back on Earth, he'd been a casual One Piece fan, so he understood what Impel Down was.
To say that escaping was a pipe dream would be an understatement.
Luckily... there would be an opportunity in four years.
Wilder's eyes glinted with an unknown light.
He'd always been a restless soul, which was why he'd taken that path in his previous life. Aside from the initial disorientation, the now-calm Wilder felt a surge of anticipation for this new world... and a hint of excitement he hadn't even realized he was capable of.
The pitch-black cell held some of the world's most vicious criminals. Wilder glanced across the way, but couldn't see a thing; the area outside his cell was terrifyingly dark.
His wrists were shackled with Seastone cuffs. This rare stone, found in the Grand Line, had the ability to nullify Devil Fruit powers, draining the user's strength.
Losing his strength meant he couldn't use his Devil Fruit ability, so any thoughts of escaping using his power were instantly dismissed.
Wilder was familiar with the Devil Fruit ability this body possessed, not only because he inherited the body's memories, but also because he'd seen it in the One Piece manga.
It was the Swamp-Swamp Fruit.
In the manga, its user was a guy with a ridiculously long tongue and a grotesque appearance. Wilder couldn't remember his name, but he knew he wasn't a particularly strong character.
"This ability isn't bad, though," Wilder muttered to himself, calculating his current predicament.
Although the previous Swamp-Swamp Fruit user wasn't impressive, Wilder valued the fruit's potential.
Not only was it his only means of self-preservation in this world, but the ability itself wasn't weak.
Everything depended on whether the user could unlock its true potential.
"Each level of Impel Down has its own extreme environment. If I use these four years to train here, I'll have the strength to protect myself when I get out."
"The only problem is dealing with these damn cuffs and getting to and from the cell without being noticed."
Wilder quickly formulated a plan. Now, he just needed an opportunity, a chance to get rid of these cuffs.
Once he found a way to remove the Seastone cuffs, the issue of moving around the prison would be easily solved. He just needed to observe the guards' routines and the blind spots of the surveillance Den Den Mushi.
For the next few days, Wilder meticulously noted the timing of the guards' food deliveries. The rest of his time was spent either sleeping or training in his cell.
Limited by his circumstances, Wilder could only do exercises like push-ups.
Time was power, and in this world where strength reigned supreme, Wilder couldn't afford to waste a single second.
Normally, this kind of exercise might not be very effective, but Wilder was a Devil Fruit user. Currently, he was shackled by Seastone, making even sitting up a struggle, let alone doing push-ups.
Therefore, these push-ups were incredibly difficult for Wilder. Each repetition was a breakthrough, and the corresponding training effect was significant.
Wilder had no idea how to remove the Seastone cuffs yet. In his previous life, he knew how to pick locks, but he needed tools.
Here, though, the possibility of finding something like a wire in his cell was absolutely zero.
"One hundred and one..."
"One hundred and two..."
"One hundred and three..."
The quiet cell was filled only with Wilder's heavy panting. He tried his best to keep his breathing quiet, but it became increasingly difficult as he went on.
"Eight hundred and sixty-one..."
"Eight hundred and sixty-two..."
"Eight hundred and sixty-three..."
Sweat dripped from his chin. Wilder gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with a fierce light. He was a hardened man in his thirties, with a scar that ran from the corner of his left forehead across the edge of his eye socket. Whether it was the original owner's preference or his own, he sported a slicked-back hairstyle similar to Crocodile's, but it didn't look bad on him; instead, it gave him the aura of a ruthless kingpin.
"Hey! Kid across the way, you trying to get out? Hahaha! Save your strength! No one ever escapes from here! Ever! I've seen plenty of delusional brats like you. In the end, they either die or give up on that ridiculous idea! Give it up, kid. Don't waste your energy!"
The cell across from him had apparently noticed Wilder's movements sometime earlier. The voice, sounding like an old relic who'd lost his spirit after spending too long here, spoke as if he was watching a bad joke.
Wilder paused, turning his head slightly to look at the opposite cell. He stared for a few seconds, then turned back and continued his push-ups.
"Don't go flaunting your badge of failure in front of the young. Just shut your trap and wait for death, you old fossil..."
A slightly arrogant, yet calm voice echoed from within the cell.
"You little...!!!" A roar of fury, from a loser whose sore spot had been poked, reverberated through the prison.