The ship drifted steadily across the endless ocean, cutting through the waves beneath a pale morning sky. Kairo stood at the helm, his crimson cloak snapping in the wind. The faint scent of salt and seaweed hung in the air. He watched the horizon, his eyes sharp, cold, and patient.
It had been weeks since he left that forgotten port. Weeks of hunting down nameless pirates, raiding small islands, and gathering whatever information he could. His reputation, though still nameless, was beginning to take shape. Whispers of a man wrapped in smoke, a killer with no flag, had started to spread.
He didn't care much about rumors.
What mattered was power.
And soon, this sea would belong to him.
A distant island broke the endless line of the horizon. Dark cliffs rose like jagged teeth from the ocean, and beyond them, dense forests sprawled across the land. Nestled at the base of the cliffs was a modest port town — weathered docks, crooked buildings, and the unmistakable stench of sweat, blood, and salt.
Kairo smirked.
"Time to see what this world has to offer today."
The ship pulled into the dock with little fanfare. No flags. No name. A quiet predator slipping into a den of lesser beasts.
As he stepped onto the dock, the people barely noticed. Sailors unloaded crates, merchants haggled loudly, and the air was thick with the sound of a dozen overlapping conversations. It was the kind of town that saw new faces every day. But one thing was clear — strength spoke here.
And weakness bled.
Kairo moved through the crowd, his footsteps silent, his presence a shadow among the noise. The Template System hummed quietly at the back of his mind.
[Current Status: Active]
Abilities: Smoke Manipulation (Logia), Enhanced Recovery, Iron Blood Combat Instinct, Echo Blade, Shadow Step, Iron Body, Keen Instinct]
He wasn't here for sightseeing. The map he claimed from a pirate captain marked this place as a minor smuggling hub — a good spot to gather fresh rumors and see if anyone worth killing had passed through.
A heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder.
"You look lost, stranger."
Kairo turned, his gaze locking with a broad-shouldered man, his face a mess of scars and sunburn. Three other rough-looking men flanked him, hands resting on the hilts of rusted cutlasses.
"State your business." The leader growled.
"Passing through," Kairo replied evenly.
The man sneered.
"Don't like your type around here. Outsiders cause problems. Might be better for your health if you turn that ship around and disappear."
Kairo's smirk widened.
"Is that a threat?"
"Call it advice." The man's hand gripped his weapon.
For a moment, silence settled between them. The noise of the port seemed to fade.
Then, like a sigh, smoke began to drift from Kairo's shoulders. Thin, gray tendrils curling into the air.
The man took an unconscious step back.
"You've made your point," Kairo said, his voice low. "Get out of my way."
The leader hesitated, sweat beading on his forehead. There was something unnatural about the stranger's gaze. A quiet, unshaken malice.
Without another word, the scarred man stepped aside. His companions followed.
Kairo didn't bother to look back.
"Weak," he muttered under his breath.
He made his way to a tavern at the edge of town — a squat, two-story building with faded paint and cracked windows. The sign above the door read The Crow's Tooth. The inside was dimly lit, heavy with the scent of stale ale and pipe smoke. A few sailors nursed their drinks at scattered tables.
Kairo took a seat at the far end of the bar.
The barkeep, a lean older man with a lazy eye, approached.
"What'll it be?"
"Rum," Kairo said, dropping a few coins on the counter.
The barkeep poured a drink and slid it over.
"New face," the man noted. "Not many of those last long around here."
"I'm not most people."
The barkeep smirked.
"Fair enough. Word of advice — don't pick fights with the Red Serpent crew. They own this town."
Kairo raised an eyebrow.
"Red Serpent?"
"Local pirate gang. Bastards have been bleeding this place dry for years. Their captain's a maniac, but even worse, his first mate's a devil fruit user. Controls water or some nonsense. No one's been able to touch them."
Kairo drained his glass.
"Good to know."
He left the tavern as evening fell, the streets quieter now. Lamps flickered to life, and the hum of the town slowed. Kairo made his way to the outskirts, toward the cliffs where he could see the entire bay.
"So there's a little nest of rats here," he muttered.
From his vantage point, he saw a large, heavily armed ship docked at the far end of the port. Men moved cargo under torchlight, and a banner fluttered at the mast — a serpent coiled around a dagger.
"That must be them."
The Gacha System pulsed.
[New Pull Available.]
"Let's see what fortune brings," Kairo said, opening the system interface in his mind.
A spinning wheel of countless anime and manga relics, abilities, and weapons rotated wildly before slowing.
[Rare Ticket Consumed.]
Congratulations! You've obtained: Shadow Binding Chains (Ability).]
A grin tugged at Kairo's lips.
"That'll do."
The power settled into him, a cold thread of knowledge embedding itself in his mind. He could feel it now — a skill designed to trap and suffocate. Perfect for tonight's work.
He made his way back into town, moving like a ghost. The streets were nearly empty. Only drunks and fools wandered this late.
At the Red Serpent's dock, six men stood watch. Armed, but careless.
Kairo emerged from the shadows.
"Who the hell—"
Before the man could finish, smoke erupted around them, choking and blinding. Shadowy chains, black as pitch, snapped from the darkness, wrapping around limbs and throats.
Panic. Screams muffled.
Steel rang against stone as bodies collapsed.
The last man managed to stagger back, wide-eyed.
"Devil fruit… monster—"
Kairo appeared before him, a hand closing around his throat.
"Tell your captain. I'm taking this town."
A sickening snap ended the conversation.
Smoke devoured the bodies, leaving only silence.
Kairo moved through the docked ship next, cutting down anyone who crossed his path. Blade met flesh, smoke strangled lungs, and the night air thickened with death.
By dawn, the ship was his.
And the town woke to find the Red Serpent's banner burning.
The tavern's barkeep watched from his doorway as Kairo stood in the center of the square, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind, smoke drifting lazily from his shoulders.
No one spoke.
No one challenged.
They knew a predator when they saw one.
"New rules," Kairo called out to the gathered townsfolk. "This place belongs to me now. Obey, and you'll live. Defy me, and you'll vanish."
No one argued.
A young man stepped forward nervously.
"W-what should we call you, sir?"
Kairo's grin was cold.
"Kairo."
He turned away, the name falling heavy over the crowd.
By the time the sun reached its peak, every ship in the harbor flew a black flag — one marked by a crimson smoke sigil.
And the world shifted, if only slightly.
Kairo stood at the cliff's edge that evening, watching the tide roll in.
"One piece at a time," he muttered. "I'll tear this world apart."
The Template System pulsed, its silent promise clear.
Power would come.
And so would the blood.