Conrad had been extraordinary since childhood.
While the other children at the orphanage were busy with poetry and arithmetic, he had recognized his intellectual gifts early on. Every day after school, he snuck off to the bookstore, planted his feet firmly, and studied wuxia comics.
He knew that those with nothing to their name would one day have to roam the world.
The more he read, the more amazed he became. Every story's protagonist, every great hero, seemed to bear his likeness!
Had he lived in those eras, he too could have fought to become the greatest under heaven.
And so Conrad understood: he was born with the bones of a tyrant and a proud soul in his heart. He was destined for great things!
But alas... what a shame! He had only been born in the wrong time!
In this era that stifled the free spirit, he repeatedly said goodbye to the orphanage, intent on honing himself in the mountains and by great rivers. But they always dragged him back inside and kept a close watch on him.
They claimed it was for his own good, but Conrad couldn't help laughing. He could only conclude that those ordinary people didn't understand a young hero.
Time passed, and his grand ambitions had to wait. But his heart never wavered; his blood remained forever hot.
He knew that for a prodigy like him, all it would take to transform into a dragon was the right wind and clouds!
And so he waited—twenty years in all.
After a long absence, the old bookstore that had once been filled with comics and wuxia novels now had a sign in its windows: "Shop for rent."
"You're here," the owner said, sorting through old books without looking up.
"I'm here."
Conrad stepped inside and bought a huge box of books he'd once been too poor to afford, all at a bargain price.
"Even if you buy osmanthus blossoms and wine to go with them, it'll never be like those carefree days of youth." The owner tossed him the latest One Piece volume. "Do you still have the heart to read it?"
"Of course." As usual, Conrad planted his feet in a firm stance.
When he reached the part where Shakky was the prize in the God Valley battle and a group of great pirates popped out hearts for eyes,
he cursed the repressive age, then flung the manga into a box full of Sea Tiger comics.
The next second, everything went black.
Marine Calendar 1511, North Blue, Minion Island.
Heavy snow blanketed the island in white.
Inside a cluster of abandoned buildings atop the mountain known as Ghost Town, the newly arrived Barrels Pirates were holding a banquet to celebrate their upcoming deal with the Marines.
"Five billion! Five billion Beli, hahaha!"
Captain Barrels held up a heart-shaped Devil Fruit, his face flushed with excitement. "Once we pull this off, we'll have more money than we can spend. We'll never have to be pirates again!"
"That's right!" the pirates agreed, laughing around the steaming banquet table, their fur coats hanging open.
"Drink! Let's drink our fill tonight!" Barrels locked the Devil Fruit in a treasure chest, then raised a beer bottle and guzzled it down.
Catching sight of the nearly empty crate of beer out of the corner of his eye, he kicked his son in the back. "Drake! Go get more!"
"Coming..." Drake was covered in bruises. His long, narrow face was still growing into itself, and two vicious scars crossed in an X beneath his chin.
He pressed a bandage to his face and lowered his head as he threaded his way through the noisy pirates. He moved a barrel aside and reached for the door, but it swung open just then.
Snow blew into the room, making the brazier flames flicker. The pirates shivered and shouted for someone to close the door.
But when they turned, they saw a strange boy standing in front of Drake.
The boy's clothes were thin and odd for the bitter cold. He stood stiffly beyond the threshold, head held high, his clear black eyes fixed on the meat at the table. He didn't say a word.
The biting wind tugged at his wild black hair, and his swollen, red fingers gripped a fishing spear taller than he was, as though it were his very life.
The pirates were still trying to make sense of it when the boy brazenly walked inside, rushed to the table, grabbed a huge meaty bone, and began devouring it.
"Brat! Where'd you come from?" A bearded pirate snatched up his knife and roared.
But the boy ignored him, continuing to eat.
Only when a curved blade came down at his neck did he abruptly raise his fishing spear and catch the blade between its prongs.
Because he couldn't understand a word they were saying.
The boy, barely over five feet tall, had blocked an enraged adult pirate's attack.
Barrels set down his drink and rose to his full height. A black line appeared across his long, narrow face as he asked in a low voice, "Did Doflamingo send you?"
He had arranged the deal for the Op-Op Fruit through an underworld broker: Doflamingo of the Donquixote Family, who had negotiated the agreement with the World Government.
And Doflamingo did have a few strange kids working under him.
The boy didn't chew. He swallowed a mouthful of meat, then grinned brightly, the fireplace reflecting off his frost-reddened face.
"Conrad, my name." The boy looked around at the pirates' different hair colors and features, then thumped his chest and asked for credit. "Money!"
Conrad had been stranded on this deserted island for a week. He wore only a set of autumn clothes, which had grown loose and offered little warmth now that his body had reverted to that of an eleven- or twelve-year-old.
Fortunately, he had loved rolling around shirtless in the snow since childhood, stimulating his inner energy to circulate on its own. His internal strength kept him from freezing to death.
But it couldn't do anything about his hunger. He was from inland and wasn't much of a swimmer. In a week, he'd caught only three fish with his spear, two of them washed ashore by the waves.
He had just returned to town with an empty stomach, looking for a place to spend the night, when he spotted a fire on the mountaintop and hurried over to investigate.
The people here didn't look like good people, but at least they were people. They had to have a ship, which could take him away.
"Beli?"
After listening to Conrad's strange accent, Barrels blinked, then nodded. "I'll send the broker's fee after the deal. You don't need to come here to remind me. You can leave now."
"Thank you!" Conrad burped, grabbed half a roast chicken, and sat at the table beside the fireplace to warm himself.
The surrounding pirates looked at one another, confused, waiting for their captain's orders.
"Forget him! Let's drink!" Barrels sat back down with a grimace, raised his cup again, and gulped down a large mouthful. "That idiot Drake! What's taking him so long?"
The banquet resumed, and the revelry continued.
Facing the fireplace, Conrad ate as if his mouth were a bottomless pit. The flames blazed in his eyes, burning hot.
"I'm going to eat my fill. I'm going to live well. My future is bright!"
The pirates at his table found his gaze blinding. They instinctively dragged their chairs away and changed seats.
Just then, the brazier hanging from the ceiling fell.
Coals scattered across the floor, but made no sound as they landed.
A blond man in a black feathered coat suddenly appeared beside Conrad. He doused the fireplace with a bucket of snow, plunging the room into darkness.
The man's clown makeup and flamboyant outfit made Conrad stop eating. Memories from five years ago, when he had followed One Piece, suddenly came rushing back.
Donquixote Rosinante, Doflamingo's younger brother, and the user of the Calm-Calm Fruit.
The pirates shoved aside tables, drew their weapons, looked around, and shouted—but only their mouths moved, as though they were performing in a silent play.
Conrad immediately understood the situation. Gripping his fishing spear, he charged straight toward the door.
Everyone here was going to die.
The only survivor was Drake, who had gone outside to fetch more booze.
Because the future Shichibukai, Doflamingo, was about to arrive on the island and steal the Op-Op Fruit in a double-cross.
The supposed deal was nothing but a one-sided fantasy of the naive pirate captain, Barrels.
Shoving and crashing, flames from the exploding warehouse shone through the windows of the ransacked stone building; Rosinante kicked Barrels in the face; Conrad rushed past the pirates and took shelter in the blizzard, watching the fire rage.
Through the billowing smoke, pirates rushing up and down the slope raised their pistols and aimed at Conrad.
For the first time in his life, he faced the black mouths of guns. His steps faltered.
The world was silent, but his chest burned hotter than ever. His soul, dormant for twenty years, seemed ready to burst out of his heart, roaring in excitement!
Boom!
His heart pumped blood like a war drum.
Crash!
The window shattered, and the crackling of burning wood and shouts erupted all at once.
"Luo! It worked! We can finally cure your illness! Wait for me! I'll be right there!"
Rosinante burst through the window, carefully cradling the Op-Op Fruit in both hands, tears of excitement in his eyes.
But his foot suddenly slipped. He stumbled, rolled down the snowy slope, and tumbled toward the vicious pirates with their guns raised.
"Catch that man in the feathered coat! He stole the Op-Op Fruit!" came the shouts of his pursuers.
The pirates loaded their pistols, shifted their aim from Conrad to Rosinante rolling down the slope, and pulled the triggers.
The bullets shot out. Just as blood was about to spill—
A black shadow shot through the air like a crossbow bolt. It pierced the feathered coat and plunged into the middle of the slope, burying itself almost halfway and abruptly stopping Rosinante's fall.
It was an iron fishing spear, thrown by Conrad.
The bullet holes landed six feet from Rosinante's feet.
As all the pirates focused on Conrad, he ignored them completely. He stared at his tightly clenched fists, his gaze blazing.
"Oga once told me! The Whale-Slaying Tyrant Fist is the fiercest fist technique under heaven! Today, I'll use Haki to drive the Tyrant Fist! I will rule the world!"
Black smoke burned through the snow, and the fire roared.
Conrad's oversized autumn clothes billowed like a cloak. He sprinted up the snowy slope, leaped into the pirates as they reloaded, and swung a punch that unleashed a black-and-red wave of Haki.
"Ocean! Welcome your king!"
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