The Young Hero Who Didn't Understand

Conrad was extraordinary from a young age.

While the other children at the orphanage were busy with poetry and arithmetic, he realized his strength in intellect early on, sneaking off to the bookstore every day after school to plant his feet in a firm horse stance and study martial arts comics.

Because he knew that those who possess nothing must, one day, wander the ends of the earth.

As he read more, he was astonished to discover that the protagonists and heroes of every story seemed to carry his own shadow!

If he lived in those eras, he too could seize the title of the world's greatest.

Thus, Conrad understood: he was born with the bones of a hegemon and a heart of pride, destined to accomplish great things!

Alas... the hatred! He only hated that he was born in the wrong time!

In this era that suppressed free spirits, he repeatedly tried to bid farewell to the orphanage, wanting to temper himself in the deep mountains and great rivers, but he was always dragged back to the inner courtyard and kept under strict supervision.

Though it was said to be for his own good, Conrad couldn't help but laugh; he could only say that those vulgar people did not understand a young hero.

As time passed, his grand plans were temporarily shelved. But his heart never wavered, and his blood remained boiling hot.

He knew deep down that a heaven-sent powerhouse like him, once transformed into a dragon, only lacked the wind and clouds!

This wait lasted for a full twenty years.

After a long absence, the old bookstore that used to be filled with comics and martial arts novels now had a "Shop for Rent" sign plastered on its doors and windows.

"You've come," the owner said, tidying up old books without looking up.

"I've come."

Conrad stepped inside and packed a large box of books he couldn't afford in the past, buying them at a bargain.

"I wanted to buy osmanthus flowers to go with wine, but it's not like the travels of youth anymore," the owner tossed him the latest volume of One Piece. "Do you still have the heart to read this?"

"Of course." Conrad assumed his usual solid horse stance.

When he flipped to the page where the prize for the God Valley incident was Shakky, and a group of great pirates popped out with heart-shaped eyes, he cursed the "Era of Great Suppression" and threw the comic into the box containing his complete collection of Sea Tiger.

The next second, his vision went black.

Marine Year 1511, North Blue, Minion Island.

Heavy snow fell thick and fast, leaving the island a desolate white.

Inside a cluster of abandoned buildings atop the mountain known as Ghost Town, the newly landed Barrels Pirates were holding a banquet to celebrate the upcoming trade with the Marines.

"Five billion, five billion Berries, ha-ha!"

Captain Barrels pinched the heart-shaped Devil Fruit, his face flushed with excitement. "After this job, we'll have more money than we can ever spend! We won't ever have to be pirates again!"

"That's right, that's right!" Amidst the steaming dining table, the pirates with their fur coats thrown open laughed in agreement.

"Drink! Let's drink our fill tonight!" Barrels locked the Devil Fruit into a treasure chest, tilted his head back, and raised his beer bottle, gulping it down.

Catching a glimpse of the nearly empty crate of alcohol, he kicked his son in the back. "Drake! Go get more booze!"

"Coming..." Drake's body was covered in bruises, and beneath his still-maturing lantern jaw, two gruesome scars crossed into an X shape.

He pressed a bandage on his face, lowered his head, and moved through the rowdy pirates. He pushed aside a barrel and reached for the door, but it was pushed open just as he reached it.

Snow blew into the room with the wind, causing the brazier to flicker and the pirates to shiver, cursing at him to close the door.

Turning back, they saw a strange boy standing before Drake.

In the biting cold, the boy wore odd, thin clothing. He stood straight and tall outside the threshold, his clear black eyes fixed intently on the meat on the table, saying nothing.

He let the bone-chilling wind whip his wild black hair, his frost-reddened fingers gripping a fishing spear taller than himself as if it were his very life.

While the pirates were still confused, the boy walked brazenly into the room, lunged at the table, grabbed a large meaty bone, and began to devour it.

"Brat! Where did you come from!" A bearded pirate grabbed his sword and roared in anger.

The boy remained deaf to them, eating incessantly.

It wasn't until a scimitar swung down toward his neck that he suddenly raised his fishing spear, the gap in the prongs catching the blade with a sharp clang.

Because he simply could not understand them.

Seeing the boy, barely over 1.6 meters tall, withstand the furious strike of an adult pirate, Barrels set down his glass and stood his tall frame up. Dark lines appeared on his lantern jaw as he asked in a deep voice, "Did Doflamingo send you?"

He had used the dark broker, Doflamingo of the Donquixote Family, to facilitate this "Op-Op Fruit" trade and reach an agreement with the World Government.

And the man's subordinates did indeed include a few strange children.

The boy didn't even chew, swallowing a mouthful of meat down his throat. The fire from the hearth reflected on his frozen red face as he grinned, revealing a brilliant smile.

"Conrad, My name." The boy looked at the different hair colors and races around him, patted his chest, and asked to put it on his tab: "Money!"

Conrad had been transported to this desolate island for a week. He was wearing only autumn clothes, and because his body had reverted to that of an eleven or twelve-year-old, the clothes were loose and provided no warmth.

Fortunately, he had enjoyed rolling around shirtless in the snow since childhood, which stimulated his internal energy to circulate on its own; it was only thanks to this inner strength that he hadn't frozen to death.

However, the hunger in his belly could not be resolved. He was a man from the inland and his swimming skills were mediocre; in the past week, he had only managed to spear three fish, two of which had been stranded on the shore by the waves.

Having just returned to town on an empty stomach to spend the night, he had seen firelight on the mountaintop and hurried up to investigate.

Although the group of fellows around him didn't look like good people, they were human beings nonetheless, and since they had come ashore, they must have a ship that could take him away.

"Berries?"

After listening to Conrad's strange accent, Barrels paused, nodded, and said, "Once the transaction is complete, I will send over the commission. There is no need to come and remind me; you may leave."

"Thank you!" Conrad let out a burp, grabbed half a roasted chicken, walked to the table by the fireplace, and sat down to warm himself by the fire.

The surrounding pirates were confused and looked at each other, waiting for their captain to give an order.

"Ignore him! Let's drink!" Barrels gritted his teeth, sat down, raised his glass again, downed a large gulp, and cursed, "That idiot Drake! Why hasn't he returned yet!"

The banquet resumed, and the rowdiness continued.

Facing the fireplace, Conrad ate as if his mouth were a bottomless pit, the burning flames reflected in his pupils, looking exceptionally intense.

I must eat my fill, I must live well; my future is bright!

A pirate at the same table felt a stinging sensation when his gaze swept over him and instinctively dragged his chair away to change seats.

Just then, the brazier hanging from the ceiling fell.

Charcoal splattered everywhere, yet it landed in complete silence.

Suddenly, a blond man wearing a black feather coat appeared beside Conrad and splashed a bucket of snow to extinguish the fireplace, plunging the room into darkness.

The man's clown makeup and flamboyant attire caused Conrad to stop eating; fragments of memories from five years of following One Piece were suddenly awakened.

Donquixote Rosinante, Doflamingo's younger brother, user of the Calm-Calm Fruit.

The pirates pushed over tables and drew their blades, looking around and shouting, but only their mouths moved, as if they were performing in a silent film.

Conrad immediately understood his current situation, gripped his fishing spear, and charged straight toward the exit.

Everyone here was going to die.

The only survivor would be Drake, who had gone out to fetch wine.

Because the future Shichibukai, Doflamingo, was about to arrive on the island to betray his own and forcibly seize the Op-Op Fruit.

The so-called transaction was nothing more than the naive pirate captain Barrels' wishful thinking.

Pushing and colliding, the flames from the warehouse explosion spread through the windows into the chaotic stone house; Rosinante kicked Barrels' face askew; Conrad rushed out from among the pirates, casting himself into the snow to watch the fire rage.

Thick smoke billowed, and pirates rushing up and down the hillside to provide support raised their muskets, aiming at Conrad.

For the first time in his life, facing the dark muzzles of guns, his footsteps faltered.

The world was silent, but his chest was burning intensely; the soul that had been dormant for twenty years seemed ready to burst out of his heart, roaring and howling in excitement!

Thump!

His heart pumped blood like a war drum.

Bang!

The glass window shattered, and the sound of crackling firewood and human voices exploded.

"Law! It's a success! Finally, I can cure your illness! Wait for me! I'm coming right now!"

Rosinante rushed out of the window, clutching the Op-Op Fruit preciously in his hands, his eyes brimming with tears of excitement.

But his feet suddenly slipped, and he stumbled down the snowy slope, rolling toward the vicious pirates who were raising their guns.

"Catch that man in the feather coat! He stole the Op-Op Fruit!" the shouting pursuit rang out.

Muskets were cocked, and the muzzles shifted from Conrad to the rolling Rosinante on the snowy slope, pulling the triggers.

Bullets sprayed, and just as blood was about to splatter.

A black shadow broke through the air like a crossbow bolt, piercing the feather coat and embedding itself deep into the center of the snowy slope, stopping the rolling momentum cold.

It was an iron fishing spear, thrown by Conrad.

The bullet holes landed two meters from Rosinante's feet.

When all the pirates' gazes focused on Conrad, he ignored them, looking at no one, staring fixedly at his own clenched fists, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Oga once told me! The Whale-Slaying Tyrant Fist is the most rigid and fierce martial art in the world! Today, I use the Tyrant Fist to drive my Haki! I shall surely dominate the world!"

Black smoke scorched the snow, and the fire grew fierce.

His autumn clothes, wide as a windbreaker, billowed in the wind as Conrad sprinted and leaped from the snowy slope, smashing into the pirates who were reloading, his fists exploding with black-red waves of Haki.

"Ocean! Welcome your King!"