A Headache for Natsu

"Pass down the order." Natsu spoke slowly, his tone steady and unquestionable. "The entire island is to enter the highest level of combat readiness. The Barrier Team will maintain the island-wide defensive barrier around the clock. All combat personnel are to assemble and remain on standby. Every team currently out on patrol or clearing operations is to withdraw to the island. Without my orders, no one is to take the initiative to attack or engage the Marines in any direct conflict."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three of them as a cold curve tugged at his lips.

"If he wants to investigate, let him investigate. I'd like to see whether this Marine vice admiral dares to set foot on our Uchiha Clan's Origin Island alone."

After everyone had left, the wooden doors of the council hall slowly closed, shutting out the footsteps and the howling sea wind outside.

Natsu leaned back in his spacious chair and lightly tapped the air with a fingertip. A pale blue, translucent panel that only he could see instantly unfolded before his eyes.

[Family System]

Host: Uchiha Natsu

Affiliated Family: Uchiha Clan

Current Family Influence Value: 5000 points

Available System Points: 45000 points

Activated Family Trait: Time Traveler (Orange)

Host-Exclusive Skill: Indra's Eye

By his calculations, it had been exactly a year since he had brought the entire clan to settle on Origin Island.

During the first four months, they had been busy building camps, taking in vassals, and clearing pirates from the surrounding waters. Their Influence Value had risen the fastest then, shooting from a few hundred points to 4,000 in less than half a year.

By the seventh month, the clan had completely established itself, and their Influence Value had smoothly reached the 5,000-point threshold.

But over the past half year, its growth had visibly slowed. For one, most of the pirates and slave ships along the nearby routes had been cleared out, while passing merchant fleets had begun taking detours, leaving no new source of Influence Value.

For another, most of the adult clansmen had already fully absorbed the physical enhancements granted by the [Time Traveler] trait. Explosive improvements were no longer possible, so naturally they could no longer drive a surge in Influence Value.

Natsu's fingertip slid across the points displayed on the panel, and his brow faintly furrowed.

He had originally planned to save up for a while longer and see if he could gamble on an orange-quality random reward. Now, it seemed he might not be able to wait that long.

He could only wait for the next monthly system settlement and draw a golden trait first, hoping to get himself a truly powerful combat skill.

Otherwise, he really had no confidence in facing the Marines' next move.

He raised his eyes toward the vast sea beyond the window, unconsciously rubbing his chin as he understood clearly that it was now January, Sea Circle Calendar 1539.

(I adjusted the earlier timeline setting here. I got it wrong when I looked it up before, hehehe.)

According to his memories from his previous life, it would not be long before that straw-hatted boy set sail from Windmill Village and ushered in the most magnificent final chapter of the Great Pirate Era.

But what gave him the biggest headache was not the Marines right in front of him.

According to the original timeline, Blackbeard Teach should have been wandering the Grand Line right now, searching everywhere for a bargaining chip that could send him soaring to the top. No one knew why he had suddenly turned toward the West Blue.

Since Blackbeard had come, Fire Fist Ace, who had been pursuing him all the way, had probably already entered the waters of the West Blue as well.

Marine Headquarters' veteran vice admiral Momonga, the ambitious Blackbeard Teach, and Fire Fist Ace, commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' Second Division.

None of those three were easy opponents.

Thinking of that, Natsu could not help pressing his fingers to his brow. His head was throbbing.

What was even more fatal was that, even now, he had yet to figure out a method for cultivating Haki. Even the most basic Armament Haki and Observation Haki remained nothing more than theories he had extracted from prisoners. He had no way to put them into actual combat.

What was more, he was only twelve years old. Even with the [Time Traveler] trait supporting the upper limit of his potential, his body had not fully matured. He could maintain appearances with Indra's Eye and Susanoo, but if he truly had to fight those battle-hardened monsters to the death, his shortcomings were simply too obvious.

Night had completely enveloped the West Blue. Lead-gray clouds obscured the stars and moon, and only the surging waves gleamed with scattered, icy light.

Two Marine Headquarters warships lay quietly at anchor on the sea. The entire fleet was under blackout conditions, with only a faint, sickly white light shining from the bridge windows. The cannons along both sides remained ready to fire, while the Marines on watch gripped their rifles and stared fixedly into the black sea, even suppressing their breathing to the faintest whisper.

Inside the bridge, the air was cold enough to feel frozen.

Vice Admiral Momonga sat at the table, a fountain pen between his fingers as he wrote the final stroke on Marine Headquarters' encrypted intelligence paper. The soft scratch of the nib against paper was the only sound in the cramped space.

The desk was covered in organized intelligence details: the clothing of the fifteen mysterious figures, the Red-and-White Fan Emblem on their backs, their bizarre method of moving across the waves, their ability to manipulate seawater with their bare hands to block cannon fire, and every individual combat assessment. Every word had been written with extreme rigor, without the slightest exaggeration.

The headquarters major serving as an adviser beside him looked at the combat assessment column on the paper, his pupils contracting slightly as even his breathing paused for half a beat.

The intelligence report stated plainly: of the fifteen mysterious individuals encountered this time, the weakest possessed combat power comparable to elite Marine Headquarters colonels. Eight were strong enough to match headquarters rear admirals. Their leader had withstood direct naval bombardment without changing expression, and his overall combat strength had already reached the threshold of a newly promoted headquarters vice admiral.

"Vice Admiral, this..." the major could not help saying, disbelief in his voice. "A single routine patrol deployed one Vice Admiral Level combatant and eight rear admiral-level combatants? Even an elite headquarters task force doesn't have a lineup this outrageous..."

Momonga set down his pen without looking up. He merely spoke in a calm voice weighed down by lingering gravity. "I saw it with my own eyes. What my Observation Haki sensed could not have been wrong in the slightest."

He had spent more than thirty years navigating the seas, fighting his way from a rookie camp in the East Blue to the position of headquarters vice admiral. He had crossed the Grand Line, faced senior officers under the Four Emperors, and even exchanged blows with the upper ranks of the Revolutionary Army. He had seen every kind of storm.

But he had never seen such an absurd force. In the Four Blues, a place Headquarters called the "weakest seas," there was actually an organization that could casually field more than a dozen officer- and general-level combatants. "Abnormal" was no longer enough to describe it. It completely overturned everything the Marines believed about the combat strength of the Four Blues.

He picked up the completed encrypted report, his fingertip brushing over its final line. It was a conclusion he had deliberated over for a long time before writing down with solemn care: Based on my more than thirty years of military combat experience, this mysterious organization is tightly structured, and its concentration of combat power far exceeds that of ordinary pirate crews. The leader of a mere patrol unit has already reached the standard of a newly promoted vice admiral. By that logic, the supreme leader of this force is absolutely no weaker than myself, and is most likely stronger.