Seven years later.
Silver hair cropped short, a crisp white shirt, and a black overcoat adorned with blue karakusa patterns.
A sturdy frame standing well over six feet tall, with a katana sheathed at his waist.
In the spacious bedroom of a lavish villa, Cross stared into the full-length mirror and couldn't help but grin smugly.
"Damn, I look good!"
In his previous life, he'd been a scrawny man barely 5'7", physically handicapped, and aside from a pretty face, good for nothing.
But in this life, he'd barely turned fifteen and already surpassed six feet. His looks were still just as striking. He couldn't help but wonder; would he grow to match the average height of a Marine Admiral by adulthood?
Yeah, that's right. As a modern young man who'd caught a ride on the infamous isekai express, Cross wasn't fazed. After all, he'd seen enough transmigration stories. This time, it just happened to be his turn. No big deal.
Before he crossed over, he had won 5 million in the lottery. Tragically, he got hit by a car on the way to claim his prize. In a way, it was like exchanging 5 million for a second life.
Thankfully, that money would likely be passed on to his parents as an inheritance, at least they'd be taken care of.
Suddenly, Cross's eyes flickered. He raised a hand to his smooth chin and, without turning away from the mirror, casually said:
"Hey~ If you're going to sneak into someone else's house, the least you could do, besides giving your name, is offer some kind of opinion on how damn handsome I am."
A moment of silence hung in the air.
Then, from the wall, a pale white mask materialized, ghost-like and silent.
A tall, lanky figure passed straight through the wall, wearing a silver, shimmering suit. In his left hand was a sharp dagger about half a meter long; in his right, a compact flintlock pistol.
"You narcissistic little brat," came a hoarse male voice from behind the mask. "You notice me and don't even call for the guards. Should I call you bold or just stupid?"
Cross turned slowly, hands on his hips, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"You're not the first guy to sneak into my room, you know. I'm used to it."
"Heh... cocky, aren't we?"
The man chuckled, eyeing Cross up and down, then sneered, "Just a fifteen-year-old punk, yet they call you the Pride of the Tobias Kingdom. Guess those pirates and assassins were all garbage after all."
"Maybe so. You're welcome to try for yourself," Cross replied with a shrug.
"I'm not like the trash you've dealt with before, boy. I'm on another level entirely," the man declared proudly. "I am 'Shadowless' Ed Wintink, the North Blue's top-ranked, gold-certified assassin. Not some third-rate thug who kills a few gang leaders and calls himself a killer."
"Right…" Cross rolled his eyes. "The last guy said something pretty similar. Honestly? Couldn't tell the difference."
"Tch, was gonna give you a quick death, but now I've changed my mind. I think I'll let you taste real pain first."
The so-called "gold-ranked assassin" Ed Wintink sneered coldly. As soon as he finished speaking, he raised his pistol and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
The pistol roared.
A muzzle flash burst from the dark barrel as a lead bullet shot out, heading straight for Cross's chest.
But in that instant, Cross merely shifted his body slightly, and easily dodged the shot. The bullet missed him completely, instead shattering the full-length mirror behind him with a loud crash.
"My turn."
A cold glint flickered in Cross's eyes as he shot forward, becoming a blur of motion. A powerful gust of wind surged from his sudden movement, and in the blink of an eye, he'd escaped the gun's line of fire.
"Too fast!"
Wintink barely registered the blur when Cross was already in front of him. He managed only the slightest pivot before—
Wham!
A punch connected squarely with his shoulder.
It felt like getting hit with a sledgehammer. A devastating force exploded into his body, sending him flying several meters back. He crashed into the stone wall behind him with such impact that a boom echoed through the room, and a gaping hole was smashed into the brickwork.
He flew clear through the wall and landed hard on a couch in the outer chamber. The force of the blow was so great that the leather couch split clean in two beneath him.
Dust billowed. The air trembled with residual shockwaves. The entire room was cloaked in a layer of settling debris.
"Sigh… And here I was expecting something impressive from a 'gold-ranked' assassin," Cross said, casually walking forward as he waved the dust from the air. "Turns out, you're just another braggart."
"B-Bone's broken... cough cough..."
Wintink clutched his shoulder and coughed violently, then spewed a mouthful of blood across his shirt and silver suit.
By the time Cross reached him, he was already struggling to his feet amid the ruins of the couch, his right arm limp at his side.
"O-One punch... You shattered my shoulder with one punch. You're really just… fifteen?"
"If we're counting this body, yeah, I'm only fifteen," Cross replied cheerfully, grinning.
"I've run into a damn monster…" Wintink's face had turned as pale as a corpse. He stared at Cross's youthful face and muttered, "I underestimated you… but this isn't over. I'll come for you again."
Even as he spoke, his body began to sink, his legs melting into the floor like quicksand.
"What the hell..." Cross's eyes widened. "No wonder you got in here wearing that flashy silver suit. You're a Devil Fruit user!"
"But don't think that means you get to escape!"
Without a second thought, Cross let out a sharp cry, lunged forward, and threw a punch that blasted a whirlwind through the room.
BOOM!
The floor cracked open beneath him. The brickwork shattered into a crater over three meters wide, hurling up chunks of debris as a violent shockwave ripped through the chamber.
"Count-sama!"
"Cross-sama, are you alright?!"
Voices rang out in a panic.
The sturdy oak door burst open as seven or eight guards in partial plate armor rushed in. They were armed with swords and muskets, their faces pale with urgency.
Cross ignored them.
He strode out onto the balcony and looked down into the courtyard below.
Sure enough, that so-called "gold-ranked assassin Ed Wintink" was staggering across the garden, trying to escape.
"What're you panicking for?! The bastard's already run outside!"
Cross barked at the guards, clearly annoyed, and then turned back without another glance at them.
Clang—
He grabbed the scabbard at his waist with his left hand and popped the guard with his thumb, revealing the gleam of polished steel.
Then, gripping the blue-cord-wrapped hilt with his right hand, he drew the blade in a single smooth motion, and slashed down toward the courtyard.
"One-Sword Style: Flying Blade!!"
The razor-sharp sword edge flashed through the air, sending a blue-white wave of slashing force hurtling downward, splitting the very air in its path.