Yamir looked at the beautiful woman sleeping beside him, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
Her long hair spilled across the pillow like strands of black silk, her breathing steady, cheeks flushed with lingering warmth—clear signs of exhaustion.
Yamir rose quietly, pulling on his clothes.
"You must be worn out..." he muttered, half amused.
After all, challenging the "Red District Queen" at dawn was no easy feat.
Now, this little girl definitely wasn't going to work today.
[Ding!٩(◕‿◕｡)۶]
[System Notice: Host has once again demonstrated his unrivaled status as the "Massage King." Target completely conquered. Host in extreme delight. Happiness +1000.]
[Current host's remaining happiness: 50,458]
"Not bad... 1000 happiness points," Yamir mused.
"Should I burn it on a ten-pull now?"
He touched his chin, thought a moment, then shook his head.
"Forget it. Better to save. With this trash drop-rate, it's not worth it..."
It wasn't superstition. It wasn't about being cursed with the Non-Chief Holy Body. Absolutely not.
Helplessness flashed across his eyes. He had lived in the Pirate World for nearly three years now, and in that time he had amassed close to 200,000 points. Yet after hundreds of pulls—
"Two golds, seven purples... and the rest? Junk."
The first 100,000 points gave him some decent loot. The next 100,000? Blue trash all the way.
Not a single purple.
This explosion rate was criminal.
Where was the System Supervision Bureau when you needed them?!
Still, Yamir had to admit—the items he did get were monstrously powerful.
[Demonic Sword: Thousand Blades]
God-level Golden Item — Current ★★★ (Max: ★★★★★)
Property: When unsheathed, only attacks—no defense!
Effect: Host automatically gains mastery of sword techniques beyond this world. The higher the star rating, the stronger the techniques.
Currently mastered: Breathing Style (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Zanpakto Style (Bleach-inspired swordplay), Dog Fang Style (Inuyasha reference).
Cost to upgrade ★★★ → ★★★★: 100,000,000 happiness.
Yamir's eyes drifted to the bedside, where the blade leaned against the wall, its scabbard gleaming ominously in the morning light.
The first god-tier item he had ever drawn had been only ★★. When drawn again, it merged and upgraded into ★★★. The system never explained its quirks, but Yamir figured it out: every upgrade unlocked entirely new schools of swordsmanship, flowing into his mind in torrents of instinct and clarity.
He recalled last time—lounging on the deck, firing off ten consecutive pulls. Thousand Blades jumped to ★★★. Testing it, he casually swung once.
The slash split the sky, a sword intent so fierce it rent the heavens apart.
That was when Mihawk—the "World's Greatest Swordsman"—appeared out of nowhere, drawn like a moth to the flame. Since then, Mihawk had kept pestering him for a duel.
A duel?
Who had time for that?
[Monster Physique]
Epic Purple Item — Current ★★★ (Max: ★★★★)
Effect: Host's physique surpasses human limits. Current star effects: proficiency in the Navy's "Rokushiki", monstrous self-healing, overwhelming resilience.
Upgrade to ★★★★: 10,000,000 happiness.
After ★★★★, can break into "Ceiling Level" with 100,000,000 happiness.
At just ★★ this item had already made him king of the Red Block district. At ★★★? His recovery and durability were absurd. Even exotic poisons and fluids healed instantly.
[Armament Haki]
Epic Purple Item — Current ★★★ (Max: ★★★★)
Effect: Full-body Armament Haki. Defense and offense boosted. Expected to reach "Ryusōken" emission at ★★★★.
Yamir flexed his fist, watching the deep obsidian glow spread across his skin, coating his body like midnight steel. The raw power was intoxicating.
[Observation Haki]
Epic Purple Item — Current ★★ (Max: ★★★★)
Effect: Heightened senses and premonition. Upgrade cost: 100,000 happiness.
Yamir sighed.
"All seven purples secured. A complete set. My strength has skyrocketed across the board. The only regret... still no Conqueror's Haki."
"If I'm guessing correctly, Conqueror's Haki should be classified as a divine golden item in the system…" Yamir muttered.
He shook his head. "No need to rush. Just keep drawing slowly, one day I'll drain this whole card pool dry. But the pleasure points needed to level up—scary as hell."
By his own estimation, if he fought with full strength, the ordinary Vice Admirals of Marine Headquarters wouldn't be his match, while the more elite Vice Admirals could probably fight him evenly.
"Still not strong enough…" Yamir sighed. He knew very well the kinds of monsters lurking in the New World. Having read the "plot," he understood that every one of those figures could shake the seas—Four Emperors, Warlords, and rising supernovas—their power far beyond the imagination of normal people.
"But fortunately," he smirked, "all I need to do is keep playing dirty and slacking off, and the system will make me stronger…"
Dong—Dong—
A soft knock echoed in the silent corridor, immediately wiping away Yamir's lazy expression. He frowned, sighed, and walked to the door.
Standing outside was a tall navy soldier in full uniform, his face full of hesitation.
"Captain…" The soldier's lips trembled.
Yamir raised a brow. "What's wrong?"
The soldier finally braced himself. "An urgent order from Headquarters. You've been transferred back."
Yamir froze, as if struck by lightning. "…Are you sure?"
"Confirmed, Captain. This is an official transfer order."
Yamir's brows twitched violently. Inside, he was cursing: Fuck!!!
He had finally been transferred to the East Blue to slack off in peace—now they wanted him back at Headquarters?
Yamir's Dilemma
"What should I do…?" His mind raced through possibilities.
Disobey? That would mean desertion, even becoming a wanted man.
Leave the Navy? Then what—be an ordinary civilian? But enjoying life required money. Robbing or stealing went against his "red flag upbringing."
Become a pirate? Absolutely not. Who wanted to be hunted day and night by the Navy? Besides, he had no interest in becoming the so-called Pirate King.
"What One Piece? That poor bastard Roger's treasure?" he scoffed.
A bounty hunter or mercenary? Life would be precarious, constantly harassed by pirates, unable to dock safely for months. Too much trouble.
No—only in the Navy could he enjoy stable pay and easy days.
Mihawk's Arrival
Just then, the soldier spoke again, hesitating. "Captain… Mihawk-san is here."
Yamir's face stiffened. "Eh?" His lips curled in helplessness. "Good things never come, but bad things always show up in pairs…Mihawk san is challenging me to a duel again?"
He stopped mid-step, suddenly realizing something.
Dracule Mihawk—the world's greatest swordsman, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea appointed by the World Government.
If a "friendly duel" with him accidentally destroyed the branch, who would take responsibility? The world-renowned Warlord… or Yamir, the little branch commander?
The answer was obvious. He'd be the scapegoat.
A smile tugged at his lips. Perfect. If the branch is wrecked, then someone has to stay behind to "oversee repairs." Naturally, that someone is me. And as for when the repairs are done… well, that's up to me, isn't it?
His eyes gleamed with newfound determination.
He spun around and barked, "Evacuate the entire branch immediately!"
"Huh? All… all evacuated, Captain?" The soldier looked stunned.
But faced with Yamir's unwavering gaze, he quickly saluted. "Yes! Executing at once!"
Yamir watched the men rush off, then smirked and strode toward the office.
"Mihawk san! Let's have ourselves a hearty duel!"