Loguetown, in a secluded, sparsely populated district.
The houses here were dilapidated, and the garbage strewn everywhere along with the scattered few households all spoke of the area's poverty.
"Brother! What happened?!"
Jerry gently pushed open the door of one of the old, rundown houses. Inside, a seven- or eight-year-old girl hurried toward him in alarm when she saw him covered in injuries.
The girl's clothes were bright and beautiful, utterly out of place against the poor home and Jerry's plain attire.
"It's nothing, little Jamie. Your brother just accidentally took a fall!"
Jerry endured the pain as he gently stroked his sister's smooth, silky hair, yet he did not dare smile.
He had been so close...
So close to taking his sister and Mother away from this filthy place. So close to letting his sister live happily like other children...
Humiliation and unwillingness filled his heart, but his face remained calm, as though nothing had happened.
At worst, he would start over from the beginning.
Jamie held back the tears welling in her eyes as well. She ran into the room, brought out a medical kit, and gently treated Jerry's wounds.
Her brother always thought she knew nothing, but she actually knew everything. Sometimes he came home covered in injuries because he had been beaten after getting caught stealing.
She wanted to tell him not to keep doing this. It was wrong.
But whenever she heard Mother's coughing and thought of her brother's dream, she could never bring herself to say it.
Looking at her frail brother, then at the beautiful clothes on her own body, she felt awful.
Her brother had never let Mother or her go without food or clothing, yet he always acted as though it did not matter.
If only she could grow up sooner and help her brother.
Jerry naturally noticed that his sister was on the verge of tears. He slowly wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes, softly comforted her, and promised that he would be more careful next time.
Though he did not know how many times he had already made that promise.
He had actually tried to find steady work before, but people always bullied him for being a child. Docking his wages was commonplace, and sometimes they simply refused to pay him at all.
The burden of the household weighed upon the shoulders of this twelve-year-old boy. It did not bend his back, but it crushed his once-upright heart.
Without money, Mother and his sister would have nothing to eat. Their family would remain in this slum for the rest of their lives, and they might even starve to death tomorrow.
So he became a thief, specifically targeting people who looked unfamiliar and wealthy. He just had not expected today's failure to end so miserably.
Maybe it was karma!
He had originally wanted to join the Marines and catch bad guys, but he had ended up becoming a complete little villain himself. He deserved this retribution.
Still, he had no intention of washing his hands of it. After all, his entire family depended on him for food.
A sudden cough drew both their attention, and they hurried into Mother's room.
A frail woman lay on the bed. Though she was only in her thirties, the merciless passage of time and illness had made her look like a gaunt old woman in her fifties.
She had been bedridden for several years.
Jamie took out a bowl, poured some water into it, and carried it to the woman on the bed.
"Here, Mother, have some water."
Hearing this, the woman struggled to sit up, and Jerry quickly stepped forward to support her.
After drinking the water, she looked at the injuries on Jerry's body and fell silent, as though considering something.
In the end, she spoke.
"Little Jerry, sell the sword!"
"How could I?!"
Jerry refused without a second thought.
The sword Mother spoke of was the black blade passed down through her ancestors, Savage Dragon, another one of the Supreme Grade Swords known throughout the world.
Legend had it that several centuries ago, Mother's ancestor had been a great swordsman renowned across the world. Wielding a black blade, he had roamed the land undefeated before finally fighting an earthshaking battle against a giant dragon.
Using that sword, he slew the dragon. From that day onward, the name Savage Dragon shook the world.
Yet the dragon slayer himself succumbed to his grievous wounds not long afterward.
Jerry had grown up listening to the origins of Savage Dragon and the stories of Mother's ancestor. To him, Savage Dragon meant far more than what could be expressed by calling it a Supreme Grade Sword.
Mother was neither angry nor disappointed by his expected refusal. She did not want to sell their ancestor's sword either.
But she wanted even less for her son to risk his life every day to earn money. Though she did not know what kind of work he did, she knew it could not be honest work.
What kind of proper job involved falling down every few days?
After seeing her son so badly hurt today, she could no longer endure it. She was terrified—terrified that one day, he would leave and never return.
At that moment, all thoughts of Supreme Grade Swords and ancestral glory were cast aside. She only wanted her family to be happy and safe.
"Go to the Marines! They might buy Savage Dragon at a low price, but at the very least, they won't bully you."
Mother's words allowed no argument. Savage Dragon had to be sold. Even if it went cheaply, the Marines would at least give them enough money to let their family live a stable life.
As for selling it to merchants or experts?
She would not even consider it. Merchants and experts might offer far more, but she did not dare gamble on whether they would harbor malicious intentions.
A man is innocent, but possession of treasure invites guilt.
With no backing whatsoever, they could not afford that risk.
The Marine branch might not offer a high price for the sword, but at least she knew that the base commander of Loguetown was an unquestionably good man.
Seeing that Mother had made up her mind, Jerry knew there was no turning back. He could only obediently pull a huge chest out from beneath her bed with great difficulty.
When he opened the chest, inside lay the treasured sword Savage Dragon, which had once dominated the world centuries ago.
It was nearly as long as Jerry was tall. Dark red patterns covered its black scabbard, while its hilt was entirely black.
Even after being sealed away for so long, time had left no trace upon the scabbard or hilt.
As for the blade itself, they had never seen it. Mother's ancestor had left an order that unless a descendant became an absolute powerhouse, no one was permitted to draw this sword.
When the dragon had been slain, its resentment had soared to the heavens, and its spirit lingered for a long time. To prevent that spirit from harming others, their ancestor had sealed it inside the sword. If it was drawn, it would surely awaken.
Jerry felt terrible. Even when the family had been so poor that the three of them could only share a single steamed bun, Mother had never told him to sell the sword.
But today, she was making him sell it.
It had to be because she saw how badly he had been hurt.
At that thought, Jerry's hatred for those hooligans grew even stronger. Once he had the strength, he would definitely settle the score with them!
He found a scrap of cloth at home and used it to wrap the entire sword. After saying goodbye to Mother and his sister, he opened the door, cautiously surveyed his surroundings, and then left.
He walked slowly, each step light, afraid that someone might hear his footsteps. Every time he took a step, he looked around to make sure no one was nearby.
He only needed to leave this area!
Once he reached the main district, even if someone took an interest in what he carried, they would not dare rob him openly.
But he seemed to be unlucky in every possible way today. Just as he was about to leave the alley, he saw the person he least wanted to meet—without question.
Two tall figures stood before him, blocking out all the sunlight.