Year 1494 of the Sea Circle Calendar. North Blue. A certain island.
The sea breeze howled, and the sky drizzled sharply.
On a jagged reef, a filthy, ragged boy sat staring out at the vast open sea, muttering under his breath:
"Since you've brought me to this world… then so be it. Momonosuke must die. Momonosuke must die. Momonosuke must die! I have only one ultimate goal: kill Momonosuke!"
The boy's name was Roy.
Born in the Great Heavenly Kingdom, raised under a red banner, he once pledged allegiance to the state… until three years ago, when he woke up and found himself reincarnated into the world of One Piece as Tirion D. Roy.
Now fifteen years old.
This island was once a famed pilgrimage site in the North Blue. The Tirion Family, renowned in the region, had built a following by preaching the glory of the Holy Light. Through their growing faith, they had amassed enough influence, reputation, and wealth to rival even a kingdom.
But their downfall came swiftly—after publicly denouncing the infamous Vinsmoke Family for rejecting the Holy Light, the Tirions were annihilated.
The only surviving heir was young Roy.
He had lived only because he'd hidden in the basement that day. Now, he was the island's sole inhabitant.
Roy rose from the reef and made his way inland. Passing through a small grove, he soon arrived at the island's center, where an old cathedral stood.
Time had not been kind. The cathedral was practically in ruins—its windows and doors no longer recognizable, reduced to little more than gaping holes, just like the ones in the ceiling.
Still, the building was spacious, and Roy had made the area beneath the pulpit his home for the past three years.
ROAR!
Just as he was about to step inside, a massive boar burst out of the woods beside him. No, to call it a boar would be generous—it looked more like a monstrous cross between a wild pig and an elephant.
Roy clenched his hand.
A golden spear materialized in his palm—Spear of Holy Light!
The beast let out a shriek and charged. The ground quaked with every step.
Shing!
The golden spear streaked through the air and plunged straight into the creature's eye. The beast howled in agony.
Roy then reached out with his right hand. A bizarre, man-sized greatsword appeared in his grip—Ashbringer!
With a beaming smile, Roy looked at the monster and said cheerfully,
"Beast… may the Holy Light bless you."
And then—he brought the sword down.
Crusader Strike.
The blade landed dead center on the boar's skull, splitting it cleanly in two.
Ding!
[You have slain an Eleboar.
Holy Light Points Gained: 0
Skill Points Gained: 0]
A familiar voice rang in Roy's ears. He was used to it by now.
The Grand Lord of the Holy Light—pssh! No, the so-called Holy Light Overlord System—
It was this cheat-like system he'd awakened upon arriving in this world three years ago.
And the weapon in his hand, rated as one of the "Supreme Grade Meito," the Ashbringer, was a toy the system had given him.
Yes—a toy. Roy swore he had the heart of a healer.
The moment he obtained the iconic Silver Hand Healing Hammer, he was done with this Ash-something sword.
Smashing people with a hammer? Now that sounded fun.
So he often pestered the system:
"When am I getting Silver Hand?"
The system always replied,
[You're the worst host I've ever had! You've got top-tier DPS and all you want to do is heal!?]
The creatures on this island? There were beasts far larger than this Eleboar.
According to the system, these monsters were left here by the Vinsmoke Family to ensure the extinction of the Tirion bloodline.
Roy had his doubts.
"Bullshit. This is clearly you spawning mobs for me to grind EXP, right? Otherwise, how the fuck do they breed this fast?"
He killed over a dozen every day—
And three years later, they still weren't extinct?
Sadly, by now, these monsters could no longer provide him any EXP or skill points.
Holy Light Points could be used to upgrade his core attributes.
Skill Points were for unlocking or upgrading skills.
"System, show me my status panel."
[Host: Tirion D. Roy]
[Age: 15]
[Primary Offensive Skills]:
[Crusader Strike: A powerful melee slash.]
[Divine Storm: A massive Holy Light storm with a range from 10 meters to 1 km. High destructive force; heals the user.]
[Judgment of the Paladin: A devastating melee strike.]
[Ashen Awakening: A cataclysmic slash that unleashes a wave of Holy Light, annihilating all evil.]
[Blade of Purity: A cross-shaped, long-range energy slash.]
[Hammer of Repentance: Summons a Holy Hammer to smash the ground, with a chance to force enemies into a repenting state.]
[Judgment Zone: Summons a field of Holy Light to smite enemies.]
[Ultimate Moves]:
[Orb of Apocalypse: The legendary Apocalypse!]
[Avenging Wrath: Host goes full beast mode—power doubled!]
[Support Skills]:
[Flash of Light]
[Holy Light]
[Slow Heal]
[Heaven's Harmony]
… and more.
---
Looking at this massive skill list, Roy's head throbbed.
Especially the support skills.
"What the hell do those have to do with me!? I'm not a healer!"
Dealing damage is where the fun is! Screw healing!
Over the past three years, Roy had learned every Paladin skill from the world of Warcraft, including even the long-lost Holy Seals.
He also mastered every pre-Awakening skill of the Prophet from DNF.
However… most support skills could only target himself.
And that was frustrating.
"System, answer me this—if I cast Divine Intervention on myself, do I die or not!?"
"Ugh… I don't even know what tier I'd be placed in right now…" Roy muttered, troubled.
He had no one to spar with—just beasts. No real opponents to gauge his power.
His only link to the outside world?
The occasional News Coo (News Bird) that flew by with updates. Through them, he kept up with world events.
Now was the year 1494 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
Thanks to the efforts of the World Government, the Navy had, on average, surpassed pirates in strength. New bases were being constructed across the Grand Line and the New World.
Even so, countless men still rushed to the sea.
Just a few months ago, a new pirate crew had burst onto the scene, quickly dominating the East Blue and entering the so-called Pirate Graveyard—the Grand Line.
Their captain's name?
Gold Roger.
Bounty: 1,500,000,000 Berries. (Roger wouldn't be known as Gol D. Roger until he became Pirate King.)
The Roger Pirates' total bounty had now reached an astronomical 7 billion Berries, making them the highest-bounty crew on the seas.
Roy looked up at the sound of flapping wings.
Caw caw caw…
A News Coo approached.
Roy took out a 100-Berry coin—a rare find from the broken-down cathedral—and handed it to the bird perched on a tree branch.
The bird: Cawk cawk…
"What? The price went up? It's 150 now?" Roy sighed and handed over another 100 Berries.
"Keep the change."
After sending off the bird, Roy roasted the Eleboar meat and ate while flipping through the paper.
"Gold Roger. Bounty raised to 1,750,000,000? That's another 250 million jump!"
Roger's bounty had been going up almost weekly lately. He had become the hottest name across the seas.
Unlike the chaotic era 20 years later—where countless pirate crews battled for dominance—this time period was different.
There were no Four Emperors yet.
The Navy hadn't reached its peak.
The Warlords and Revolutionary Army hadn't even formed.
Back then, the Navy was led by Garp, Sengoku, Zephyr, Kong, and Tsuru.
As for pirates—only a handful stood out: Whitebeard, Roger, Golden Lion, Charlotte Linlin… Their names dominated every headline.
Newcomers? Never made the papers.
Since the fall of the Rocks Pirates, no pirate crew had been strong enough to challenge the Navy head-on.
But Roy didn't care about any of that.
He only cared about one thing:
When the hell is that bastard Momonosuke going to be born?
No matter what—he must die.