Chapter 1
"...Well, this is new."
One minute, Zefar was 24, lying in bed after a One Piece binge. The next, he was staring at a glowing screen floating in a white void.
[Welcome, Player.]
[Spin for your Profile and World.]
"Uh… okay? Sure. Why not." He waved at the emptiness around him. "Not like I have anywhere else to be. Spin away."
The wheel spun wildly — gods, weapons, haki levels flashing by — until it slowed and clicked.
[Profile Generated]
Old Man — Early 60s. Extremely tall. Handsome. Joyboy-level Conqueror's Haki. Shanks-level Observation. Roger-level Armament. Ryuma-level Swordsmanship. Human. No Devil Fruit. Supreme Grade Blade (Sabre).
"Wait, wait, wait—" Zefar held up his hands. "Joyboy-level? Roger-level? Are you trying to make me the most OP character ever—"
Battle Experience:Rayleigh-level — decades of fights, countless near-deaths, mastery of every combat style.
Life Experienced:Rocks Era survivor — politics, pirates, betrayal, and the weight of history in his eyes.
"Oh, come on!" Zefar threw his hands up. "Rocks Era? Do you know how old that makes me? Do you know how much trauma that implies?"
Mission:Protect Monkey D. Luffy. He must not die.
Secondary Objective:Live your life away from evil. Enjoy it.
"Protect Luffy? The rubber kid who throws himself into every dangerous situation with a smile?" Zefar laughed, but it sounded tight. "And 'stay away from evil'? In One Piece? That's like saying 'stay dry in the ocean.'"
No time to argue. Light swallowed him whole.
When it faded, Zefar was no longer 24.
The body hit him like a freight train — heavy, scarred, but sharp as a blade honed over decades. His hands moved to his face, feeling the weathered skin, the gray stubble.
"This is..." His voice was deeper, rougher. Like whiskey and cigarettes. "This is actually happening."
Every scar told a story he didn't remember living but somehow knew. The raised line across his left shoulder — a Marine captain's desperate last swing. The burn on his palm — grabbing a red-hot cannon barrel to save a crewmate.
"Okay," he muttered, flexing fingers around the blackened sabre at his hip. The weapon felt like part of his soul. "This is gonna take some serious getting used to."
Then the noise hit.
Steel clashing. Cheers and gasps from onlookers. A familiar voice yelling about ingredients and the greatest swordsman alive.
"—bastard! You can't just cut up my restaurant!"
"The oregano! He destroyed the oregano!"
Zefar turned slowly, heart nearly stopping.
On the deck of a ship-restaurant, a green-haired man with three swords charged forward, desperate. Across from him stood a man in black, casually holding the world's strongest blade.
"Three-Sword Style..." Zoro's voice carried over the water. "Oni Giri!"
Mihawk didn't even blink. One finger. One tiny knife. That was all it took.
"Zoro," Zefar whispered, watching the swordsman's desperate fight. "And Mihawk."
[Objective Update: Ensure Monkey D. Luffy Survives.]
"Right, because that's the priority," Zefar muttered, already scanning the crowd for a familiar straw hat. "Not the kid getting carved up by Dracule Mihawk."
There — a flash of red vest and wild black hair. Luffy, watching with those wide, serious eyes that meant he was about to do something stupid.
"Found him," Zefar said, then paused. "Now what? Walk up and say, 'Hey, I'm from another world here to babysit you'? Yeah, that'll go great."
He watched Zoro take hit after hit, refusing to back down. The determination, the pride, the absolute refusal to retreat against impossible odds.
"Stubborn kid." But there was respect in Zefar's voice. "Just like in the show."
A memory flickered — a young marine with the same stubborn eyes, refusing to surrender as Rocks D. Xebec's crew closed in.
That marine died that day.
"Not today," Zefar murmured, tightening his grip on the sabre. "Not on my watch."
Before he could move, Zoro did something that made his breath catch.
The green-haired swordsman spread his arms wide, offering his chest to Mihawk's blade.
"Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame."
Zefar felt a smile tug at his lips. "Kid's got backbone. I'll give him that."
Mihawk's respect was clear even from a distance. The wound he gave Zoro was precise — painful but not fatal. A lesson, not a kill.
"Roronoa Zoro," Mihawk's voice carried over the water. "It's too soon for you to die. Grow strong and come find me. I'll be waiting."
As the Warlord left, Zefar finally moved, leaping onto Baratie's deck. His landing was silent, but several chefs stared at the tall stranger.
"Oi," Sanji called, cigarette hanging from his lips. "This isn't a tourist spot, old man."
"Old man?" Zefar raised an eyebrow, amused. "Kid, I was fighting pirates when you were in diapers."
"Want to test that theory?" Sanji's leg twitched.
"Maybe later." Zefar's eyes found Luffy, kneeling beside his wounded first mate. "Right now, I'm more interested in him."
He approached slowly, hands visible and calm. Luffy looked up as his shadow fell over them.
"Who are you?" Luffy asked simply.
Zefar thought about lying, telling the truth, or something in between.
"Name's Zefar," he said finally. "And I think... we need to talk."