The News Coo noticed me looking at it and came closer, perhaps wondering if I was its first customer. As soon as the oversized, comical bird approached, I staggered a few steps back. I had never realized these damn News Coos were almost as big as pelicans.
Composing myself, I stretched out my hand, pretending this was an everyday occurrence for me—nothing strange or illogical, nothing that would make PETA knock on the doors of the Supreme Court.
The News Coo looked into my eyes confused to find pity. How could it know that I was actually linking these poor birds to slaves and pitying their whole existence?
With my "Wisdom" stat, I knew everyone had a purpose in their existence, and these birds were simply fulfilling the role their creator destined for them. But the fact that Oda created these peculiar creatures just as delivery agents made me question what else animals might be doing in this world.
Anyway—coming back to the present—the News Coo passed me the newspaper and spread its wing in a very peculiar, human-like way, clearly asking for something. Right, it was asking for money. Or rather, berries.
I checked my trouser pocket and found a few coins clinking together. With absolute confidence in my nonexistent knowledge of currency, I pulled out three coins stamped with "10" and placed them on the News Coo's wing.
And I kid you not—the look that damn bird gave me! It was a perfect mix of judgment and concern, the kind of expression you'd expect from someone watching an idiot about to hurt himself. The bird's gaze practically said, "Are you okay?"—like a company feigning concern for its employees' mental health.
Whatever. I decided to ignore the judgmental look and asked, "How much?"
The bird didn't respond, of course. It just pointed with its beak toward the cover page, where the price—100 berries—was printed at the top.
Damn, that was expensive! From what I'd checked before, it seemed I had only about 250 berries total, and a hundred just for a paper? Still, information was key.
So, paying the News Coo, I went back inside my hut, sat on the bed, and opened the newspaper to determine when exactly I had landed.
The first thing I saw was a headline: "Black Cat Pirates Destroyed by Lieutenant Morgan."
That gave me a rough idea—this was around three years before Luffy set out to sea. Ace should have started his journey around this time and might already be making a name for himself in East Blue, though apparently not enough to make it into the paper yet. This also meant Ace still hadn't eaten the Flame-Flame Fruit.
Outside, I could hear the hustle and bustle of daily life—the rustic rhythm of a seaside village waking up. People were minding their business, setting up stalls. I stepped out and saw a few villagers arranging their goods in front of their huts near mine. A few looked my way and greeted me with familiarity, as if it was normal for them to see me.
One lady from a nearby hut walked up and smiled. I instantly knew she was going to talk to me. Hopefully, I wouldn't say something that would blow my cover and create panic. I decided to let her speak first and go with the flow.
She said, "Mark, are you feeling better? Still no fish stall, I see. Don't push yourself—take time to recover. You'll be back at sea in no time."
Wow. Just wow. All that information just from a single smile. But at least it clarified my profession and told me I'd been sick recently. I had to reply carefully—something natural and not suspicious.
"Hopefully soon…" I drawled in a low voice, pretending to still be weak.
Her expression softened with sympathy. She smiled, nodded, and walked away.
At least now I knew my name—Mark.
I watched her return to her stall and gesture for me to come over.
"If you're feeling better and not going to sea," she said, "could you help me butcher and prepare a few chickens?"
I noticed her hut had a brick oven—apparently, she was the local baker. I nodded, both agreeing to help and hoping to appear more familiar with her.
Soon, a neighbor walked up, smiling and calling out, "Hey Mark! Looking healthy again—you scared us, man!" He laughed, then turned to the woman and said, "Eli, I brought the chickens you asked for. Call me when the bread's ready!"
So, the lady's name was Eli—the village baker.
She turned toward him and pointed. "Sam, hand the chickens to Mark. He's helping me today."
Eli seemed cheerful as she said it. I noticed small smiles and stolen glances when she thought I wasn't looking.
I started prepping the chicken for its death. First, I soothed it—I didn't want it to startle and make everything messy. Then I gave it a little water to calm it further, making the kill cleaner.
Taking a deep breath, I took my first life, using the knife near the butchering station. The chicken thrashed in my hands; I could feel its life flowing out through the wound I'd made in its neck. I held its wings tightly so the blood wouldn't spray everywhere.
Fun fact: I'd never butchered anything before—but somehow, I felt at ease doing it, as if my muscles remembered this from countless times before.
When the chicken finally stopped shaking, I began plucking its feathers. Then, on a whim, I checked my System. Mentally commanding it open, I saw a new entry under Achievements:
Chicken killed – 1
No other changes were visible.
I handed the cleaned chicken to Eli and walked back to my hut. Maybe this was my path now—killing and becoming a butcher.
But somehow, I didn't think a protagonist in the One Piece world could just be a butcher. It had to be something more… an adventurer.