A Second Life

—Brain storage (friendly reminder: please leave your brain here before reading. Pick it up when you disembark for +1 IQ.)

I have already completed two novels of over a million Chinese characters each, so please enjoy without worry.

"Mom..."

In the year 1495 of the Sea Circle Calendar, in the North Blue, there was an obscure seaside village. (I'm using the old chronology out of habit, so don't mind it.)

Five-year-old Ron knelt in the blood.

His mother lay before him, a knife buried in her chest.

Blood ran down the blade and pooled over the toes of his shoes.

His father was nailed to the wooden wall of the house, his head hanging motionless.

The village was burning.

In the firelight, some people cried and others laughed.

Pirates kicked in doors and ransacked cupboards, their curses audible even through the thick smoke.

"Well, there's still one alive?"

A pirate with a brutish face kicked the door open and came in. Seeing Ron in the blood, he grinned.

"Little brat, go join your parents!"

Ron stared hard at the pirate.

The moment the man raised his blade, he sensed the danger.

He jerked his head to the right.

The blade struck his left shoulder.

Thud!

His clothes tore open, but to the pirate, it felt as though his blade had struck a block of hardwood.

He looked down.

There was only a shallow, bloody mark on the skin.

"...What?"

Ron looked down too.

There really was something a little unusual about this body.

He remembered his previous life.

In that life, he had been an undercover reporter who specialized in exposing corruption.

He could deal with the rich and powerful and mingle with people from all walks of life.

Later, he came to understand something.

No amount of evidence was any use. Without strength, he couldn't protect anything.

An informant list was leaked, and drug dealers came to his father's door for revenge, torturing him to death;

His mother couldn't bear the devastating blow and fell ill, never to recover, eventually passing away;

Even his fiancée, whom he had been planning to marry, failed to escape the drug dealers' reckoning and died a tragic death in their revenge.

On his final investigation, he had slipped alone into a drug lord's lair. After taking multiple bullets, he had clung tightly to the drug kingpin and plunged with him into a towering sea of flames.

When he opened his eyes again, he was a baby, lying in this little fishing village.

He thought heaven had finally given him a chance to start over.

His father was an honest man, and his mother doted on him.

There were no drugs, no guns.

He didn't have to wake up every day worrying that someone might suddenly be gone.

He had lived like that for five years.

And now it was gone again.

"Bastard..."

Ron gritted his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums.

"You little bastard, you're tough to kill!"

The pirate laughed, raised his blade, and hacked down at Ron's neck.

Before the blade fell, Ron moved.

He darted left, and the blade missed, grazing his scalp.

The pirate's eyes widened.

He missed?

Ron snatched up the short dagger by his feet and lunged forward!

The point plunged into the pirate's throat.

The pirate fell to his knees, clutching his neck as blood welled between his fingers.

He stared at Ron, his mouth opening and closing several times, but no words came out.

Ron pulled out the dagger, splashing blood across half his face.

The bones, flesh, and skin of this body were all remarkably tough.

Ever since he was little, he had also been especially sensitive to other people's malice, particularly killing intent directed at him.

He had sensed that last strike before it fell.

Unfortunately, a five-year-old's body was simply too small.

Dodging one strike didn't mean he could save the whole village.

At least for now, he could keep fighting his way out.

"Third Brother?! You killed Third Brother?!!"

Another pirate charged in and swung his blade at Ron's back.

Ron sensed him, but his five-year-old body was too small to dodge.

Shhk!

The blade bit deep into his back, instantly soaking his clothes with blood.

Ron grunted and staggered forward two steps, but forced himself to stay on his feet.

"What?!"

The pirate glanced at his blade, then at Ron, who was still standing.

"That didn't kill you?!"

Ron spun around and drove his dagger into the top of the man's thigh!

"Aah—!!"

The pirate screamed and dropped to his knees.

Ron pounced on him and stabbed again.

Shhk.

"Monster! This brat's a monster!"

"Kill him! Kill him, quick!"

The few pirates remaining at the door charged in together, blades raised, shocked and furious.

Blades hacked down from every direction.

Ron dodged desperately.

He was small and lacked strength.

Being able to take a few blows didn't mean they wouldn't hurt, or that he wouldn't die.

His shoulders, arms, back... wound after wound opened up, and blood dripped from the hem of his clothes.

His consciousness began to drift, but he didn't retreat half a step.

Two lives now, so why was it still like this?!

Why—?!!

His eyes red, Ron lunged forward and wrapped his arms around a pirate's lower leg, refusing to let go no matter how the man kicked him and stomped on his head.

He stabbed wildly at the man's leg and waist with the dagger in his hand.

Once, twice, three times... until the man in his arms stopped moving altogether.

The other pirates surrounded him in terror, ready to hack him to death.

Just then.

Boom!

A crimson pillar of magma descended from the sky, and a terrifying wave of heat swept through the entire house in an instant.

The remaining pirates were burned to ash before they could even finish screaming.

Beyond the flames, a tall Marine officer approached at an unhurried pace.

Sakazuki.

He was not yet the Marine Admiral whose name would one day shake the seas, but to these ordinary pirates, he was no different from the god of death.

Sakazuki looked toward the middle of the ruins.

Between pools of blood and charred wood sat a child covered in blood.

One hand clutched his stomach, while the other still gripped a short dagger, his knuckles white.

The bodies of three adult pirates lay beside him.

Sakazuki watched him for a while, then walked over.

"Can you still walk?"

Ron looked up at him, his voice already hoarse.

"Yes."

Sakazuki gave a slight nod, turned, and walked away.

Using the dagger to push himself off the ground, Ron rose unsteadily and followed him, one step at a time.

After that day, Sakazuki took Ron back to Marine Headquarters.

Later, the child who had lost his parents became his adopted son.

Ten years later.

In the year 1505 of the Sea Circle Calendar, in the first half of the Grand Line.

Boom! Boom! Boom—!

Cannonballs plunged into the sea, blasting up columns of water.

A pirate ship flying a skull flag was fleeing at full speed, with a Marine warship in close pursuit several hundred meters behind it.

"Captain! The Marines are catching up!"

On the pirate ship's lookout platform, a lackey's voice had changed with fright.

"What the hell are you panicking for?!"

The scar-faced captain kicked him over.

More than a dozen civilians knelt at his feet, their hands and feet bound. Two children among them were crying.

"Drag them all onto the deck! Keep a close eye on the ones in the hold too!"

"Don't the Marines love playing the good guys and protecting civilians? Let's see if they dare fire on us!!"

Before long, forty-seven hostages were brought onto the deck and locked in the hold.

Every face had gone pale.

The captain stood at the stern with a broadsword in hand, laughing wildly at the warship behind them. "Hahaha! Keep running!"

"With these people here, the Marines won't dare make a move even if they chase us until tomorrow!"

On the warship's deck, the Marines clenched their fists until their knuckles cracked.

"Those bastards—!"

"Sir! We can't board them, they're too far away!"

"What about the cannons? Can't we fire?"

"We can't! The hostages are all on deck. One shot and..."

He stopped before he could finish.

No one answered.

At the bow, the tall figure had not moved from beginning to end.

He was a black-haired youth.

Only fifteen years old, he was already over two and a half meters tall. A Marine coat hung from his broad shoulders, and solid muscles filled out his uniform with sharply defined contours.

An enormously sized two-handed greatsword was strapped diagonally across his back.

Given the length and thickness of its blade, an ordinary person would have struggled even to carry it, let alone swing it.

In Ron's hands, however, it was just the right fit.

"Major Ron!"

The adjutant ran over and lowered his voice. "There are too many people, and more in the hold. We can't open fire."

The sea breeze lifted the youth's black hair.

Ron closed his eyes and quickly spread out his Observation Haki, confirming the positions of everyone on the deck and in the main hold.

By the time he opened his eyes again, he had a plan.

Click.

A slit opened in the air before Ron. It grew wider and wider, becoming a door.

The adjutant's eyelid twitched.

Though he had seen it countless times, he still couldn't help feeling his scalp tingle every time he saw it.

"Major, are you..."

Ron didn't answer. He stepped forward and vanished into thin air.

Meanwhile, aboard a pirate ship several hundred meters away.

The captain was still hopping around at the stern, shouting, "Don't the Marines love playing the good guys? Come on!"

He kicked over a hostage at his feet, then turned and shouted toward the deck, "All of you, cry! Louder! Make sure they can hear you over there!"

"See that? If you dare fire a single shot, I'll make sure they all die with me! All of them—"

He was laughing when a sound came from behind him.

Click.

A young, calm voice sounded beside his ear without warning.

"Having a good laugh, are you?"