Somewhere in the vast East Blue, known as the weakest of the seas but also the birthplace of many powerful monsters, a young man drifted helplessly. He was starving and exhausted after breaking through a violent storm with the small sailing boat he had used to begin his adventure on the ocean.
The small boat was already damaged. Its triangular sail had a massive tear, its mast was broken, and the oar was gone. The only way to fix it was to reach land, but around the boat stretched nothing but the endless sea.
The young man, lying on the small boat, had already resigned himself to his fate.
"Damn it, am I going to die here? In this nowhere place, alone, without ever carving my name into history?" he thought.
"I set out to sail these seas because I wanted to chase my dream—to carve my name into history like the great figures of old."
"Hahahaha, my brother would laugh seeing me like this! Damn it, why am I even admitting they're my brothers now—especially him. I don't want to be that fool's younger brother."
At first, the young man frowned, but then he smiled to himself.
"I should have brought more supplies and tightened the ropes better. That damned storm destroyed and swept away all my food and equipment."
"It seems this is the end. Sorry, everyone… it looks like I won't be able to keep the promise we made."
He surrendered to his fate and closed his eyes—until suddenly—
Thud!
Something fell from the sky and struck his boat. He opened his eyes, startled by the sound of something hitting the vessel. Still lying on his back, he lifted his head and looked around in every direction.
When his gaze fell toward his feet, he saw something yellow. He tried to sit up to grab it. As soon as he held it, he realized the object had strange patterns—small black circles all over its surface.
It was shaped like a nobleman's goblet, with pineapple-like leaves sprouting from beneath it.
"Is this… a fruit?" he wondered.
"But why does it look like a goblet? This is suspicious." He frowned.
"Is it a fruit or just an object? If it's a fruit, should I eat it? What if it's poisonous—or something worse?" he thought.
He didn't want to eat something so suspicious, but hunger clouded his judgment.
"Ahhh, damn it! Fine, if it's poisonous, may the poison kill me instantly." He scratched his short hair in frustration.
"Alright, I'll stake my life on this. Bon appétit." He used both hands to devour the fruit.
Blup!
He ate the entire thing, leaves and all.
"Ugh, the taste is disgusting. At least my stomach is full, and it doesn't seem like the fruit contains poison that kills instantly. Hopefully, it doesn't have some slow-acting poison. I don't want to die slowly. Okay, now I need to find the nearest land," he muttered.
"Hmmmm, this makes me curious. Where did this fruit come from? Out of the vast sea, why did it fall right onto my little boat? Is this fate playing a trick?" he thought.
"Wait… that fool once described a disgusting fruit he ate. He said he got it from a pirate he idolized. He said the fruit had strange patterns and tasted vile, but once you eat it, you gain mysterious powers. However, it comes with side effects, and those side effects are—" The young man frowned again and turned his head toward the sea.
"Hahahaha, that's impossible. People say such fruits are extremely rare, almost impossible to find. In some places, they're even considered myths." He laughed awkwardly. But then suddenly, he stood up and walked to the side of his boat.
Gripping the edge, he leaned over the sea and saw his reflection: short, messy dark-brown hair, and eyes the color of the ocean—deep blue.
Gulp.
He swallowed nervously.
"Alright… you're a brave man. Just dip your hand into the sea and you'll know what kind of fruit that was," he tried to reassure himself.
"Hopefully I'm wrong. Huff… here goes." He took a deep breath, stretched out his right hand toward the sea and—
…!!!
Suddenly, all his strength drained away.
Plop!
He yanked his hand out of the water and staggered toward the broken mast, slumping against it.
"It's confirmed… a Devil Fruit! Damn it, I should have been more careful. Now I've lost my ability to swim." He leaned his head against the mast.
"I wouldn't have minded losing my ability to swim if it was in another situation, but not now—not when I'm stranded alone in the middle of the ocean without a crew. If I fall into the sea in this condition, with no one to save me, I'll drown."
"This is like escaping a lion's den only to fall into a crocodile pit. My hunger is gone, but now a greater problem has appeared."
"Should I change my plan? At first, I thought I'd use a float to swim to the nearest island, but I should abandon that idea. Swimming won't guarantee my survival now."
He looked down at his hands and muttered, "You'd better grant me the power to save myself."
"Alright, now… how do I find out what powers lie within this fruit?" He stood, determined to test his new strength.
But before he could act, a sound echoed like a bell.
Ding.
Host detected. All requirements fulfilled. Connecting host to the Throne of Heroes.
Ding.
Host successfully connected. Congratulations, host. You are now linked to the Throne of Heroes.
Thump!
"WHO'S THERE?!" The young man jumped, readying himself for battle.
"WHO ARE YOU?! WHY IS YOUR VOICE IN MY HEAD?!" he shouted.
Ding. Permission to answer.
I am the system that connects the host to the Throne of Heroes. The host can now summon heroic spirits.
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN! I HAVE NOTHING WORTH TAKING! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
Ding. Permission to answer.
The system will not take anything from the host. The system cannot leave unless the host dies. Only then will the system detach.
"I DON'T TRUST YOU! WHY IS YOUR VOICE INSIDE MY HEAD?!" He remained in a fighting stance.
Ding. Permission to answer.
The host should trust the system. The system will not harm the host. And to answer the host's second question: the system is bound to the host, allowing communication directly through thought.
"What do you mean 'bound'? Does this have something to do with the Devil Fruit I ate?!" He panicked, glancing left and right for enemies.
Ding. Permission to answer.
The system is bound to the host's soul. And yes, the system is the power of the artificial Devil Fruit the host consumed.
His eyes widened. "Y-you're lying…" His voice was barely audible. He stepped back, staring out at the vast sea.
"An artificial Devil Fruit? That's impossible!"
'I can't imagine anyone smart enough to create an artificial Devil Fruit in this world…'
Ding. Permission to answer.
Yes, artificial Devil Fruits do exist.
"Th-then who created you?" he asked, stunned, unknowingly lowering his guard.
Ding. Permission to answer.
The system cannot answer that question.
"WHY NOT?!" He tensed again, anger rising.
Ding. Permission to answer.
The system has no answer.
"What the hell…" The young man was baffled.
…
After a moment of silence, he sat cross-legged on the deck and asked again, cautiously.
"So… you're the power of the Devil Fruit I ate, right?"
Ding. Permission to answer.
Yes.
"Then why do you speak like that? You sound lifeless, too monotone."
Ding. Permission to answer.
That is the configuration set by my creator.
The young man sighed, then asked again.
"System, will you hurt me or betray me?"
Ding. Permission to answer.
The system will not.
"Hmmm… fine. I'll trust you."
"So, what is your power? I hope it's something useful that can get me out of here."
Ding. Permission to answer.
The system's power allows the host to summon heroic spirits that dwell within the Throne of Heroes.
"The Throne of Heroes? What's that? You mentioned it earlier—what exactly is it?" He rested his chin on his hand, curious.
Ding. Permission to answer.
The Throne of Heroes is a metaphysical dimension where the spirits of legendary, mythological, or historical heroes are stored after death—whether they truly existed or lived only in folklore or legend. Those recorded there are known as Heroic Spirits.
"….!!! W-wait, so you mean the Throne of Heroes is where heroes end up after death? Like… an afterlife for heroes?!" He straightened suddenly, shocked.
Ding. Permission to answer.
Yes and no.
"Hah? What do you mean?" He tilted his head, even more confused.
Ding. Permission to answer.
The Throne of Heroes can be considered a 'final place' or 'another dimension' where the spirits of great heroes are stored after death. But it is not an afterlife in the religious sense. Rather, it is a conceptual, eternal archive. There, their existence is preserved forever—complete with their stories, personalities, and powers.
"This is too much… too much information…" He clutched his head, overwhelmed.
"Alright, I think I understand a little. So, if someone lives a righteous life and becomes a hero, they'll end up in the Throne of Heroes, right?"
Ding. Permission to answer.
No.
"Hah?! What do you mean?!" he demanded, surprised by the firm reply.
Ding. Permission to answer.
Heroes recorded in the Throne of Heroes do not have to be good or moral. What matters is that they left a lasting impact and were remembered by humanity—whether as saviors or as villains.
"What! So even murderers or villains can enter the Throne of Heroes?!" He was stunned.
…
After a pause, he asked, "Can you explain what 'hero' means from the perspective of the Throne of Heroes?"
Ding. Permission to answer.
A 'hero,' according to the Throne of Heroes, is anyone who left a significant mark on human history or legend—remembered widely, whether as a savior, conqueror, ruler, or butcher. Their legacy is etched so strongly into collective memory that their existence is recorded in the world itself.
Gulp.
He swallowed hard.
"S-so being good isn't required to be a hero?"
Ding. Permission to answer.
Correct.
"So… as long as someone etches their name into history, they deserve a place in the Throne of Heroes?"
Ding. Permission to answer.
Yes.
A smile spread across his face. His eyes shone like a child receiving a long-awaited gift.
"Hahahaha! I can't believe this is real!" He laughed loudly.
"So fate does exist after all." He raised his head, his blue eyes gazing at the sky.
He stood tall, spreading his arms wide. His chest puffed out, fists clenched, and his gaze locked on the heavens.
"Alright then, damn fate—listen well and watch!"
"The sky and the sea shall be my witnesses!" His voice was quiet but firm, filled with determination.
"I am just an ordinary man, born in Fushia Village…" He didn't care if anyone was listening.
"Many people have helped me, and here I SWEAR!" he shouted suddenly.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.
…
Only the waves could be heard, until suddenly he opened his eyes again.
"I WILL MAKE MY NAME KNOWN IN HISTORY, NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN! THOSE WHO CALL ME FRIEND WILL BE PROUD, AND THOSE WHO BECOME MY ENEMIES WILL KNOW FEAR—BY MY NAME!" His chest heaved with emotion.
"FUJIMARU RITSUKA!"