A strange sadness welled up in Victor's heart—it wasn't really his own feeling. It must've come from the original soul's memories, still lingering inside him. He didn't say a word, just sat quietly.
When Rebecca brought more food over, he ate in silence as well.
Rebecca tilted her head, sensing the weird atmosphere. She glanced at her grandma, then back at Victor, her little face full of confusion.
"Little Victor, why don't you rest a bit and let your food settle? I'll take you to visit your parents in a little while."
After cleaning up the dishes, the old woman sat back down at the table and spoke again.
"Victor, now that your parents are gone… what are your plans for the future?"
Victor responded immediately. "I'm going to become a Marine. I'll hunt down pirates and avenge my parents!"
Then he froze. What the hell? That wasn't my thought at all! Why did I just blurt that out?
For a moment, he panicked. Could the original soul still be lingering? Or is this some kind of lingering obsession? His expression shifted slightly.
Maria didn't notice the change in his face. She simply nodded.
"Becoming a Marine isn't a bad path. It's a stable career… just promise me you'll be careful."
"Rebecca's parents were Marines too, you know. Her mother even served under a high-ranking officer… but in the end, even that didn't save her..."
She knew Victor had heard about how Rebecca's parents had died in the line of duty.
After chatting a while longer, Victor accompanied Maria and Rebecca to the cemetery behind the town.
There were many graves here—several recently added. Rebecca's parents were buried here as well.
Maria left Victor alone at his parents' grave and took Rebecca over to her daughter and son-in-law's headstones, where they whispered softly.
Victor sat silently before the graves, tears streaming down his face.
It was then he understood clearly—he wasn't alone in this body.
The original soul was still here. Faint. Weak. Without its own will. Victor was in full control, but the original could still stir whenever something deeply emotional was involved.
He didn't truly feel grief for these people—he hadn't known them—but the tears came anyway, pulled out by the soul still buried within.
Without speaking aloud, Victor spoke in his heart:
Ann… I don't know if it was really you who summoned me, but I swear I heard your voice.
And now I've taken your son's body. Even if I wanted to return it, he's too weak to survive on his own. He'd just live on like a hollow shell.
So I'll live in his name. I'll get stronger. I'll do everything I can to reach a level where no one can ever control his fate again. That's my promise to you.
Becoming a Marine was, right now, the fastest path to strength. The original boy's obsession and Victor's own goal aligned perfectly.
The Marines had a structured system, clear rules, and efficient training—honed over years of controlling the seas. No one else, short of the powers behind the Marines, could compare.
Two children, both orphaned. That was the reality of this era.
Ordinary people had no power to change their fate. If you wanted to break free from the butcher's block and live your life freely—you needed overwhelming strength.
After finishing their private moments at the graves, the two families reunited and walked back together.
No one said much. The air was heavy. Dusk had fallen, and Maria took Rebecca home to prepare dinner.
Victor returned to his own house. Guided by the memories in his head, he found some hidden money. For a normal person, it was enough to last several years.
Apparently, the pirates hadn't bothered ransacking the place. They probably assumed everyone inside was already dead—and that the money was gone, too.
For a ten-year-old boy, this stash was more than enough to get by. But Victor had no intention of freeloading off Maria's family. After all, his soul was that of a grown man.
That evening, after cooking, Maria sent Rebecca over to call him for dinner. She'd made quite a bit—probably remembering how much Victor had eaten at lunch.
Sure enough, he finished every last bite again. His body seemed to be digesting and absorbing food at an accelerated rate. For Victor, that was a great sign.
After all, in the world of pirates, a huge appetite was often a mark of growing strength.
After the meal, the old woman comforted Victor again, telling him not to worry about anything and to just live peacefully and grow up strong.
But how could Victor not think about it? A man from another world, stranded in a disaster-ridden place like this—where people wielded power comparable to natural calamities. Life was fragile here. For ordinary folks, survival depended on sheer luck.
Back home, after washing up, Victor lay in bed, deep in thought.
Life in this world was brutal. Whether commoners lived or died often came down to chance—but luck was fickle. Only strength was a reliable guarantee.
This island has no powerful defense. If pirates attack, we're at their mercy. Waiting for rescue is naïve. The only real security is your own power.
There were many ways to grow stronger in this world:
- Martial arts
- Swordsmanship
- Devil Fruits
- The Navy's Rokushiki
- Haki
- Fish-Man Karate
- Hasshoken
But Devil Fruits depend on luck. I know where a few are, but with zero strength right now, hunting them would be suicide.
The Navy's Rokushiki isn't easy to learn either—it requires insane physical conditioning. I'll have to join the Marines first.
Armament Haki? Without a teacher, it's impossible to grasp before reaching a certain level. The physical demands are even higher than Rokushiki. Another thing to learn after enlisting.
Observation Haki is even more elusive. Some are born with it. Others awaken it through trauma. Some train for years. People are just built different. All I can do is try to sharpen my senses.
Fish-Man Karate and Hasshoken? Forget it. Too rare, and neither has produced top-tier fighters anyway.
After weighing his options, Victor decided his best bet was to build his physique first—laying the foundation for future training—while incorporating martial arts from his past life.
Back then, he'd researched countless fighting styles for video essays. While weak in his original world, their precision and creativity could shine here.
This world's martial arts leaned toward brute force and Haki dominance, with less emphasis on technique—though a few specialists defied the trend.
Swordsmanship is a must. This world's sword arts reach insane heights—some become top-tier purely through blade mastery. I should try it. Fighting unarmed feels like a handicap.
The gap might not matter early on, but in top-tier battles, weapons made a huge difference (except for that freak Garp).
Hadn't he seen it? Luffy vs. Kaido—the Emperor smacked him around with his club while Luffy struggled to land a single punch. Range and reach mattered.
And look at the original Emperors:
- Whitebeard – Murakumogiri (Bisento)
- Kaido – Hassaikai (Kanabo)
- Big Mom – Napoleon (Sword-Homie)
- Shanks – Gryphon (Saber)
Even Gol D. Roger wielded Ace (Saber), and Rayleigh fought with a sword. The message was clear.
I have to learn swordsmanship. Even if I lack a teacher now, basic training and my past knowledge can get me started. As for the rest… I'll adjust as I go.
With a rough plan in mind, Victor drifted into sleep.