The first rays of morning sunlight cut through the dusty blinds, painting stripes of gold across the room.
Mike watched the light play over the woman sleeping beside him with a soft smile on his face.
Her name was Lily and she was out cold.
Her long, jet-black hair was a messy masterpiece spread across the pillow, and her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
A faint flush was still on her cheeks.
Yeah, she was completely wiped.
He slipped out of bed as quietly as a cat, trying not to make the old floorboards creak.
As he started pulling on his clothes, he chuckled to himself.
"Definitely worn out…"
Honestly, what was she thinking, trying to take on the king of this district first thing in the morning? He shook his head fondly.
Well, the poor girl wasn't going to be making any money today, that was for sure.
He made a mental note to leave a little extra on the nightstand.
Just as he buttoned up his shirt, a cheerful, almost obnoxious sound chimed in his head.
[Ding! ?(????)?]
[The Host has once again asserted his dominance as the Sex King! Opponent thoroughly conquered! Mood: Super-Duper Happy! Happy Points +1000.]
[Current Happy Points: 11,000]
"Hey, a thousand points just for that," Mike mused, a genuine grin spreading across his face.
"Not a bad way to start the day."
His thumb hovered over the mental button for the gacha system.
The temptation was real.
"Should I just go for a ten-pull right now? I'm feeling lucky today..."
He stroked his chin, thinking it over for a solid three seconds before sighing.
"Nah, better save 'em."
It wasn't that he didn't want to do the gacha.
It was that this damn system had drop rates that would make a loan shark blush.
It was a total scam!
And no, it had absolutely nothing to do with his own garbage-tier luck.
Nothing at all.
He refused to believe it.
A flicker of frustration passed through him.
It had been almost three years since he'd woken up in this crazy world of pirates and Devil Fruits.
In that time, he'd scraped and scrounged together about 200,000 Happy Points.
At 1,000 points for a pull, that meant he'd spun the wheel a whopping two hundred times.
And what did he have to show for it?
"Two golds and seven purples," he muttered under his breath, the memory still stinging.
"The rest was just a pile of blue junk and some green consumables..."
The first hundred thousand points had been decent enough, giving him most of his core abilities.
But the next hundred thousand?
Absolutely nothing.
Not a single purple, let alone a gold.
It was a statistical impossibility!
"This drop rate is just so heartwarming," he said sarcastically to the empty room.
"Where's the System Police? I want to file a complaint! They had to have nerfed the rates on me. I'd bet my life on it."
Still, he couldn't deny that the stuff he did get was insanely good.
His eyes fell on the sword leaning against the bedside table.
Its black scabbard seemed to drink the morning light, giving off a cold, deadly vibe.
[Kusanagi no tsurugi]
[Description: When Kusanagi are drawn, it is only to attack. Defense is for the weak!]
[Tier: Legendary/Gold | Current Star Rating: 3 (Max: 5)]
[Effect: The wielder gains mastery of sword styles beyond this world. Higher star rating unlocks stronger techniques. Currently Mastered: Breathing Style, Zanpakuto Style, Fang Style.]
[Upgrade Cost (3 -> 4 Stars): 100,000,000 Happy Points]
A hundred million points.
He snorted.
What a joke.
That sword was the first gold item he'd ever pulled.
It started at 2 stars, and a lucky duplicate pull had bumped it up to 3.
The system's description was vague, but he'd figured it out.
Every time it starred up, he just had to grip the hilt and a tidal wave of new knowledge and muscle memory would flood his brain.
It was a hell of a rush.
He'd never forget the last time it happened.
He was just chilling on the deck of the base's patrol ship, feeling good, and decided to do a ten-pull on a whim.
Bam, Thousand Blades hit 3 stars.
Feeling cocky, he gave it a little test swing.
Just a casual flick of the wrist.
That "casual flick" sent a wave of pure sword energy screaming across the sky, a green slash that looked like it had torn a hole in the fabric of the world itself.
And then, somehow, that damn Mihawk saw it from half a world away and came knocking on his door.
Ever since that day, the guy wouldn't leave him alone, always pestering him for a duel.
A duel? With the World's Strongest Swordsman?
Did he look like he had a death wish?
He was a professional slacker, thank you very much.
"And then there are the purples..." Mike mentally opened his status screen, a flicker of pride running through him as he reviewed his other top-tier prizes.
[Monster Physique][Tier: Epic Purple | Current Star Rating: 3 (Max: 4)]
[Effect: Grants the user an absurdly powerful body. Current Effects: Innate mastery of the Marine's Six Powers, extreme regeneration, and extreme damage resistance.]
[Upgrade Cost (3 -> 4 Stars): 10,000,000 Happy Points]
[Note: Can be broken through to a higher tier at 4 stars. Breakthrough Cost: 100,000,000 Happy Points]
This was his bread and butter.
The regeneration was the real MVP—it didn't just heal cuts and bruises, it even refilled... well, other kinds of stamina at a ridiculous rate.
At 2 stars, it had already made him a legend in the Red-Light District.
At 3 stars? It was just unfair.
If he wasn't trying to save money, he could've booked the entire street for a week-long sex party.
Not that he would.
Most of the ladies here were friends, and they'd probably offer their services for free.
But everyone was just trying to get by; he couldn't bring himself to take advantage like that.
[Armament Haki]
[Tier: Epic Purple | Current Star Rating: 3 (Max: 4)]
He clenched his fist, and a slick, inky blackness coated his skin, hardening into an invisible armor that felt stronger than steel.
It spread up his arm and could cover his whole body if he wanted.
At this level, both his offense and defense were monstrous.
He figured at 4 stars, it would probably evolve into that 'Ryou' stuff he'd heard about, letting him project his power outward.
[Observation Haki]
[Tier: Epic Purple | Current Star Rating: 2 (Max: 4)]
[Upgrade Cost (2 -> 3 Stars): 100,000 Happy Points]
It was solid, but he really needed to get it to the next level to start seeing snippets of the future.
Right now, it was just super-senses and presence detection.
"All the purples tier are pretty solid," he thought. "A good mix of everything. The only thing I'm missing is Conqueror's Haki."
He was pretty sure that had to be a gold-tier pull.
"No big deal. I'll get it eventually. Just gotta keep farming those points."
The upgrade costs were terrifying, but his current power level was decent.
He figured he could probably take down a standard Vice Admiral from HQ without breaking a sweat.
One of the stronger ones, like Garp?
That would be suicide.
"Still not strong enough to just laze around without a care in the world," he sighed.
He knew what kind of monsters were running around in the New World.
Guys who could shatter islands with a punch.
He was nowhere near that level yet.
"Oh well. The key is to get stronger by doing as little as possible."
Knock, knock.
The soft knock on the door broke the morning's quiet.
Mike's relaxed expression tightened into a frown.
His Observation Haki had told him someone was nervously shuffling their feet outside for the last two minutes.
He let out a quiet sigh and walked out of the bedroom.
Standing at the front door was a young Marine, his uniform perfectly pressed.
The kid—Private Jenkins—looked like he was about to deliver a death sentence.
"Captain..." the soldier stammered, avoiding eye contact.
He was clearly struggling to get the words out.
The transfer order.
The whole base knew it was coming eventually.
Their cushy, easygoing life under his command was about to end.
Jenkins looked genuinely lost, wondering if the next base commander would be some hardass from HQ.
The golden age of slacking off at Marine Branch 186 was over.
"What is it, Jenkins?" Mike asked, his voice softer than usual.
"HQ... sent an urgent dispatch, sir." The Private finally looked up, his face pale.
"You're being recalled to Marine Headquarters."
"Huh?" Mike froze.
"Are you sure you read that right?"
"Positive, sir. It's an official transfer order."
For a second, Mike felt like he'd been struck by lightning.
An involuntary twitch started in his eyebrow.
He stayed silent for a long moment, a storm of curses brewing in his mind.
'Damn it all to hell!'
He had pulled every string he could, cashed in every favor, just to get this dead-end post in the calmest sea in the world, the East Blue.
All he wanted was a few years of peace and quiet to stack Happy Points.
And now they were dragging him back to the hornet's nest?
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" he muttered, his mind racing.
Option A: Disobey orders.
Bad idea.
That meant deserting the Marines, becoming a wanted man.
Where would he even go? Try to be a civilian? You need money for that, and he wasn't about to start robbing people.
He might be a slacker, but he wasn't a scumbag.
Option B: Become a pirate.
Even worse.
Being chased day and night by the entire World Government? Only a complete moron would choose that life.
He had zero interest in finding some 'One Piece' treasure left behind by a dead guy.
Option C: Bounty hunter? An adventurer? Sounds like a lot of work for not much pay, constantly getting into fights with pirates and sleeping on a crappy boat.
Miserable.
He sighed.
No matter how he looked at it, the Marines were the best gig in town.
A steady paycheck, a place to live, and if you played your cards right, plenty of opportunities to do absolutely nothing.
It was the perfect job to milk for Happy Points.
He took a step toward the door, resigned to his fate.
The soldiers who had gathered behind Jenkins watched him go, their expressions a mix of sadness and respect.
They'd gotten used to their lazy Captain who somehow always got the job done with minimal effort.
"Sir," Jenkins spoke up again, his voice hesitant. "There's... one more thing. Mihawk is here."
Mike's eyebrows shot up. "You've got to be kidding me."
He let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"Good news never calls, but bad news throws a party on your doorstep."
Hawkeye was here for another damn duel!
He was about to turn and tell Jenkins to make an excuse when he suddenly froze.
Wait a minute...
An idea, a beautiful, devious, and utterly brilliant idea, began to form in his mind.
Mihawk was one of the Seven Warlords.
That meant he was technically on the government's payroll.
One of their guys.
So, if they were to have a "friendly sparring session" and, whoops, the base accidentally got leveled in the process... who would take the blame?
The world-famous master swordsman? Or a lowly Captain at a remote branch?
The blame would fall squarely on him.
Mike's lips curled into a slow, wicked grin.
"And if Base 186 is completely destroyed and inoperable..." he schemed, the plan coming together perfectly.
"Then I, as the commanding officer, would have to take responsibility and stay behind to oversee the repairs. And how long would that take? Months? A year? Well, that would be entirely up to me, wouldn't it?"
The excitement was a jolt of electricity in his veins.
His eyes hardened with newfound purpose.
He turn around to face the confused Marines.
The lazy slouch was gone, replaced by a commander's presence they had never seen before.
"Jenkins!" he barked. "Evacuate the entire base! Every man, woman, and child. Now!"
"The... the entire base, sir?" the soldier stammered, his eyes wide with shock.
Mike fixed him with an unwavering stare.
Jenkins snapped to attention, his training kicking in.
"Yes, sir! Right away!"
As the soldiers scrambled to carry out his orders, Mike's grin widened.
He strode confidently toward the entrance of the base, cracking his knuckles.
He could already sense the immense, focused power of the swordsman waiting for him outside.
"Alright, Hawkeye," he muttered to himself, a glint of pure mischief in his eyes.
"Let's give these guys a show they'll never forget."