Mike was already awake when the signal chimed—sharp and precise, like an urgent message sparking to life within his mind.
[SYSTEM] CHAOS GACHA — BINDING VERIFIED.
[SYSTEM] Account: Mike
[SYSTEM] Tickets available: Golden Ticket ×3
[SYSTEM] Mode: RANDOM. Advantage pulls: generate two options.
He stared at the ceiling, feeling the taste of salt on his lips and the curious, weighty presence of three shimmering tokens tugging at his thoughts. The system waited, poised and enigmatic. Mike hesitated, yet to make his move.
He decided to roll the ticket, and the system responded with the following results:
[Unbreakable Blade]
| Rarity: Rare Item |
A sleek, sharp steel longsword that is completely unbreakable and impervious to damage.
[Expert Medicine]
| Rarity: Elite Skill |
You possess unparalleled expertise in all fields of medicine, far beyond what ordinary humans can achieve. You can perform surgeries, create your own supernatural remedies, and diagnose ailments with remarkable ease and precision.
[Adept Blunt Weapon Mastery]
| Rarity: Rare Skill |
You excel at wielding blunt weapons like hammers and clubs. While armed with any blunt weapon, you can unleash almost supernatural levels of strength.
Mike felt a rush of exhilaration as the results appeared before him, glowing on the screen. Each prize carried a weight of potential, and he could practically feel the energy humming in the air around him.
With a deep breath, he reached out and confirmed his selection. The system responded instantly, a bright flash enveloping him for just a moment. When the light faded, he found himself holding the newly acquired items.
In one hand, he gripped the Unbreakable Blade, its hilt fitting comfortably in his palm. He marveled at its flawless steel, reflecting the light with an almost ethereal sheen. With this weapon, he felt invincible—nothing could stand in his way.
In his other hand, a shimmering emblem materialized, marking his new status as an Expert in Medicine. The knowledge flowed through him like a current, filling gaps in his understanding of the human body. He felt ready to confront any medical emergency, equipped to save lives with the precision of a master.
Lastly, he felt the weight of his new title—Adept in Blunt Weapon Mastery. Instinctively, he could feel the power coiling within him, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. The strength coursing through his veins promised he could turn any ordinary club or hammer into a force of nature.
With everything now officially in his possession, Mike stood upright, the surge of confidence coursing through him. He was no longer just a participant in the system; he was a force to be reckoned with, ready to embrace whatever challenges lay ahead.
As Mike wandered aimlessly, the vast ocean stretched endlessly around him, waves lapping gently against the sides of his small vessel. The soothing rhythm of the water was both calming and disorienting, making it easy to lose track of time. Hours seemed to pass as he drifted, remnants of uncertainty lingering in his mind.
Then, on the horizon, something caught his eye a shadow against the bright blue sky. Squinting through the glare of the sun, he realized it was an island, its silhouette growing more defined as he drew closer. Lush greenery framed the coastline, and the promise of adventure teased him like a distant whisper.
His heart raced with excitement. As he maneuvered his vessel toward the shore, visions of what lay beyond the dense foliage danced in his mind. Would he encounter exotic creatures, undiscovered treasures, or perhaps new allies who shared his journey?
With determination, Mike set his course for the island, eager to uncover the secrets it held. The salty wind tousled his hair, and for the first time since finding himself in this strange world, he felt a surge of hope and possibility. The adventure was just beginning.
As Mike continued to sail toward the horizon, the outline of the Island gradually emerged, a soft curve of land rising gracefully from the sea. Framed by rolling blue-veined hills, it beckoned him closer, its beauty sharpening with each passing moment. The whitecaps danced at the island's feet, and sunlight dappling the lush green slopes filled him with a sense of wonder and anticipation.
Then, as he drew nearer, two tall windmills caught his eye, their wooden arms spinning languidly against the vivid sky. The cloth blades glowed softly in the sunlight, turning with a quiet rhythm that reminded him of clock hands, silently guiding lost souls back home. Just beyond them lay Foosha Village—a rustic cluster of weathered rooftops made of wood and shingles, worn smooth by years of sun and salt. The village nestled comfortably around a modest dock, where the sea gently lapped and seagulls wheeled above, their cries filling the air.
Even from this distance, the scent of smoke and cooking fish wafted towards him, mingling with the briny tang of the ocean. It was a comforting aroma that hinted at life and community beyond the shore. He could hear the faint sound of a bell ringing and the distant murmur of villagers engaging in their daily routines, pulled softly by the waves.
The whole settlement felt small yet vibrant, nestled against the island's shoulder like a cherished secret. To Mike, the windmills loomed as silent sentinels, turning steadily as if counting the very breaths of the inhabitants. A wave of excitement washed over him; he was not just an observer but a participant in this unfolding adventure. With every stroke of the oar, he felt the pull of destiny guiding him closer to the heart of the Island.
Mike's feet sank into the warm sand before he fully registered the figure standing nearby—short and wiry, his glasses perched low on his nose, and a meticulously trimmed mustache and goatee framing his mouth. The man's posture was rigid, and the cane he gripped tapped sharply against the wooden planks of the dock, a staccato rhythm that pulled Mike from his thoughts.
In an instant, he noticed the stranger's piercing gaze fixed on him, eyes narrowing at the sight of the sword hilt peeking from his belt. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, an unspoken barrier arising between them.
"What… are you, a pirate?"
The stranger's voice sliced through the hazy mix of ocean air and salt, cautious yet firm. Mike could feel the weight of the question pressing down on him, and he sensed a protective instinct simmering just beneath the man's clipped tone. He wore light, tropical clothing that blended with the island's vibrant colors, and a striped cap rested atop his head—a living emblem of the village's wary peace. Without even knowing the name Foosha Village yet, Mike instinctively recognized the guardedness that flickered in the man's expression.
Mike swallowed hard, the unspoken question echoing in his mind: Was this man testing his intentions, or was he truly safeguarding the village against potential threats?
This figure was clearly no ordinary resident; he felt the seriousness of the moment. Gathering his thoughts, Mike weighed his response cautiously, aware that the fate of his first real encounter on this island rested in his hands.
As Mike stood there, grappling with the weight of the situation, a flicker of recognition sparked in his memory. He squinted, taking a closer look at the wiry figure before him—the glasses, the mustache, the cane—it all clicked. This was Woop Slap, the mayor of Foosha Village, Luffy's hometown from the famous anime *One Piece*.
The realization struck him with the force of a wave crashing against the shore—he wasn't just in a new place; he had crossed over into a fictional world. The vibrant colors of the island, the atmosphere buzzing with life, the presence of a character he had seen countless times on screen; it all snapped into focus.
Panic tinged his thoughts as he processed the implications. He wasn't in his own reality anymore; he had stepped into the universe of pirates, treasure, and grand adventures. A place he had only ever experienced through a screen, now tangible and real before him. The weight of Woop Slap's suspicious gaze deepened his awareness.
What did this mean for him? What kind of adventures, or dangers, awaited in this vibrant world? His heart raced, the thrill of uncertainty mingled with apprehension. Mike took a breath, steadying himself. This was no longer just an escape; it was a chance to redefine who he was and what he might become in a land where dreams and dangers danced hand in hand.
The moment hung heavily in the air, but he knew he had to respond to Woop Slap—a mayor who had every reason to be wary of outsiders, especially one who bore the mark of a sword. "No, I'm not a pirate," Mike finally replied, his voice steadying as he prepared to explain his presence in this new world.
Mike took a moment to gather his thoughts, the weight of Woop Slap's gaze pressing down on him. He needed to convey his story clearly and earn the mayor's trust.
"I'm not a pirate," Mike began, looking Woop Slap squarely in the eye. "I was a passenger on a merchant ship that was sunk by pirates. We were out on the ocean when they attacked, and in the chaos, I ended up drifting for days. I came across that sword while I was adrift, floating in the wreckage." He gestured toward the blade hilt peeking out from his belt, hoping to emphasize his sincerity.
Woop Slap's expression shifted slightly, the tension in his brow relaxing just a fraction. "And you thought it wise to bring a weapon into Foosha? This village has seen enough trouble," he replied, his voice still holding a hint of skepticism.
"I understand your concern," Mike continued, his tone earnest. "I only took the sword for protection. I never meant to cause any trouble. I just wanted to survive and maybe find a way back home. I've heard tales about this place, and I didn't anticipate... well, this."
He glanced around at the vibrant scenery of Foosha Village, the familiar yet exotic sights sparking a mix of nostalgia and apprehension. "I don't plan to be a burden. I just want to find some safe harbor and figure out what to do next."
Woop Slap studied him for a moment, the remnants of suspicion lingering, but there was a softness in his expression now, a glimmer of understanding. "You're lucky to have made it this far, but you must tread carefully. This village may be peaceful, but we don't take kindly to outsiders—especially those carrying weapons."
"I get that," Mike replied, feeling the adrenaline start to ebb. "I just need a place to regroup. If there's any chance you could help me..."
The mayor tapped his cane thoughtfully against the wooden dock, considering Mike's plea, and the unsteady alliance between them began to take shape against the backdrop of the island's lush beauty.
Woop Slap studied Mike's face more closely, noting the youthfulness etched in his features. His eyes narrowed with curiosity as he asked, "How old are you, boy?"
"I'm sixteen," Mike replied, feeling a mix of vulnerability and resolve wash over him. He could sense the mayor's scrutiny assessing not just his age but the potential for trouble a young stranger could bring to the village.
Woop Slap's expression softened slightly, though his caution remained. "Sixteen, and already caught up with pirates. You must be either very brave or very reckless," he remarked, a hint of skepticism returning to his voice.
"Maybe a bit of both," Mike admitted, trying to keep the conversation light despite the gravity of his situation. "But I never asked for any of this. I just want to find my way back to safety."
The mayor sighed, his demeanor shifting from suspicion to contemplation. "At your age, there are better choices than sailing with merchants. The seas can be unforgiving, especially with pirates lurking. I'd hate to see any more young lives lost to their greed."
"I get that," Mike replied earnestly. "Trust me, I've learned the hard way. But I assure you, my intention isn't to bring trouble to Foosha."
Woop Slap looked at him thoughtfully, and for a moment, Mike felt a flicker of hope. "If you're truly sincere, I might be able to help you. But you'll need to follow the village's rules while you're here. We protect our own, and we'll extend that to you, but only if you earn it."
"Thank you," Mike said, relief flooding through him. "I'll do whatever it takes."
As they shared a moment of understanding, Mike felt a small spark of connection form between them, a bridge over the unfamiliar waters ahead.