East Blue.
The waves were calm and bright that morning, the horizon kissed by sunlight. On a small, worn-out boat drifting across the open sea, Ross sat with a weathered newspaper in hand. The paper was slightly damp from the sea breeze, but the headline remained clear "Pirate King Gol D. Roger Executed!"
Ross exhaled deeply, his eyes scanning the densely printed columns. Every word seemed to echo with history. The article recorded Roger's final declaration before his death, the infamous words that would ignite the flames of ambition across every ocean: the spark that would usher in the Great Pirate Era.
It was almost poetic, Ross thought. The Roger Pirates had disbanded in the East Blue, the very same sea where their journey had first begun. Roger had circled the Grand Line and returned to the starting point, only to meet his end in Loguetown.
"Maybe that's just fate," Ross murmured, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.
He took a breath, focusing inward. "System," he called silently.
At once, a faint blue interface flickered in his mind, followed by a simple message:
Host does not meet the activation requirements. System currently unavailable.
Ross sighed. "So the golden finger doesn't work after all. Looks like I'll have to rely on myself."
That so-called "system" had appeared in his mind just as he left Roger's ship, but it had remained dormant ever since. For a moment, Ross had felt a pang of disappointment but it quickly passed.
Because deep down, he had already made up his mind.
He was done being a pirate.
The memories of his predecessor were vague, but one thing was certain: the new Ross had no desire to chase after the chaos and glory of piracy.
The Great Pirate Era was about to begin. With his meager strength, he would be swallowed whole by that storm.
As for Barker, Ross couldn't be bothered to worry about him. The so-called powerful crewmate didn't even appear in the original timeline, which likely meant he didn't make it far. Maybe he was already dead somewhere.
Ross chuckled softly at the thought.
He had no plans to become famous. His only goal now was simple make one last score, gather enough treasure, find a quiet island in the East Blue, and spend the rest of his life in peace.
No ambition. No bloodshed. No adventure. Just comfort.
He thought of the world that was to come Luffy's adventures, the endless battles, the near-death fights that defined the Straw Hat's legend. Even knowing how those stories ended, Ross couldn't help but shudder.
"Every time he wins, it's barely," Ross muttered. "If that's what it means to be a pirate, I'll pass."
Meanwhile, at Marineford, the headquarters of the Navy, chaos was brewing.
"Garp, how can you still be laughing at a time like this?" Admiral Sengoku slammed his hands on the desk, glaring at the man across from him. "Can't you see what's happening? Roger's final words will plunge the world into madness!"
Across from him, Vice Admiral Garp leaned back comfortably, munching on his favorite rice crackers with an infuriating grin.
"Well, it's not like we can undo what's done," Garp said through a mouthful of crumbs. "The age is changing whether we like it or not. And honestly, that's for the higher-ups to worry about, not us. We just do our jobs."
"You're impossible!" Sengoku snapped, snatching the bag of crackers from his hand and dumping them into his own mouth out of pure frustration.
"My rice crackers!" Garp shouted, looking horrified.
Ignoring him, Sengoku chewed furiously. "There will be thousands of new pirates setting sail after today. Whether Roger's treasure is real or not doesn't matter people will believe it. That belief will tear the seas apart!"
He leaned forward, voice sharp. "And what about Roger's crew? Have we located any of them?"
Garp shook his head, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Not yet. The Dark King, Rayleigh, is probably in hiding. The rest of Roger's crew aren't exactly pushovers either. They're laying low, and ordinary marines don't stand a chance against them."
He gave a wry smile. "Be honest, Sengoku. If Roger hadn't turned himself in, do you really think we could've caught him? Even if we both went after him together?"
Sengoku was silent. The truth was obvious.
"Find them anyway," Sengoku ordered coldly. "Every single one of them. And I've heard reports that Roger may have met with a woman before his surrender. If that's true, we cannot allow his bloodline to continue."
His voice was iron. The era of mercy had ended.
Across the seas, the Navy mobilized ships launched from every corner of the world, hunting for the scattered remnants of the Roger Pirates.
Ross, of course, knew nothing of this. Even if he did, he wouldn't have cared.
After all, no one really knew who he was. He had joined Roger's crew late, his bounty never issued, his name forgotten. He could walk past a Marine officer and no one would look twice.
"My strength… if we're talking bounty levels," he said thoughtfully, "I'd probably be worth around ten million Berries. Maybe less."
He wasn't being modest. Despite training under legends like Roger and Rayleigh, he was still far from powerful. He had been lucky, really everyone on the ship had helped him train, including Jello and even Barker, who had once envied Roger's attention toward him.
Ten million Berries.
In the East Blue, that would make him a feared pirate. But on the Grand Line? He'd be nothing more than a weakling.
He stretched, feeling the salt wind on his face. "Still, being weak isn't so bad. At least I can live comfortably in the East Blue. A quiet town, a full belly, maybe a bit of wine... sounds perfect."
He smiled lazily, the corners of his mouth curling in satisfaction.
Who said being a transmigrator meant you had to conquer the world?
Ross was perfectly content to be a salted fish drifting through life without care or ambition.
"Still," he muttered, glancing at the empty food box beside him, "first things first. Gotta eat."
He tapped the side of his little boat. "Food's running out. Guess I'll just rob a pirate crew, take their supplies, and retire early."
He stood, squinting toward the horizon. A massive shadow loomed in the distance a large ship flying a black flag with a skull emblem.
"Captain Dirk! There's a small boat ahead! Someone's trying to avoid us. Looked like he was hiding something!" a lookout shouted from the pirate ship.
"Hiding something, huh?" boomed a deep, rough voice. A burly red-haired man emerged from the cabin, a giant cleaver strapped to his back. "Nobody hides treasure from Greatblade Dirk! Boys! Bring me whatever he's got!"
The pirate ship turned sharply, cutting through the waves toward Ross.
Ross smiled faintly, lowering his newspaper.
"Perfect," he whispered. "Right on cue."
He adjusted his grip on the small oar, the sunlight glinting in his eyes.
The Great Pirate Era had begun and Ross, the man who wanted nothing more than peace, was about to start it off with a little "retirement fund."
The sea roared around him as the two ships drew closer.
The world was changing, and Ross was ready to play his small, quiet part in it.