An unnamed town on the fringes of the East Blue screamed.
"Hahaha! Charge, you runts! Take the grain, take the gold, and take the women!"
At the prow of a marauding vessel stood a man two meters tall, his face a roadmap of scars and malice. A captain's hat sat askew on his head, and he flourished a rapier with yellow-toothed glee.
Otto Mann. Captain of the Li Jian Pirates. Bounty: 8,000,000 Berries.
"Oh—ho!" The pirates roared, a tide of filth pouring off the ship to descend upon the terrified populace. To them, this was a festival of plunder.
"Captain," a man with a cigarette dangling from a grim mouth stepped up beside Otto. This was Frank, the first mate, worth 5,000,000 Berries. "This is Loguetown's backyard. If we make too much noise, the Marines will crawl out of their holes."
"Frank, you coward! Look at me! I am Otto Mann!" The Captain threw his head back, laughing. "I've checked the charts. We're on the very edge of their reach. By the time those white-coats mobilize, we'll be halfway to the next island. And even if they come, it won't be a Colonel. Who's going to stop an 8-million-Berry man? Hahahaha!"
In the East Blue, where mediocrity was the standard, Otto Mann felt like a king.
Loguetown Port
Colonel Randle watched from the pier as the standard Marine warship began its slow, heavy chug out of the harbor. He caught a glimpse of a familiar shadow slipping over the railing at the last possible second. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips, softening his usually iron-cast features.
"What in the—!? Atlas! You brat! What are you doing here?"
Lieutenant Wright's jaw hit the deck as he spotted Atlas crouching behind a row of barrels on the main deck. The boy looked like he'd been caught stealing from the larder, but his eyes were bright with a terrifying focus.
"Reporting, Lieutenant Wright!" Atlas stood up, brushing the dust from his chore-boy uniform. "Chore boy Atlas requests permission to engage the enemy."
He didn't plead. He didn't make excuses. He simply stood there, a 1.9-meter wall of muscle that looked entirely out of place in a domestic role.
Wright groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fine. You're the ship's chore boy for this mission, you little delinquent. But listen to me: you stay in the rear. This isn't a training exercise. These are the Li Jian Pirates—their total bounty pool is over ten million. You stay back, or I'll throw you in the brig myself. Understood?"
"I'll be careful, Lieutenant. Don't worry about me," Atlas replied.
His tone was flat, devoid of the "carefulness" Wright was looking for. Atlas knew the math. Eight million Berries in the East Blue usually meant a man who was good at burning villages, not a man who could survive a duel with a monster.
Atlas walked to the armory and selected a standard-issue Marine cutlass. It was mass-produced steel, lacking the soul of a Meito or even a Grade Sword, but it felt balanced in his hand. He wasn't ready for Armament Haki yet, and his body hadn't reached the superhuman thresholds required for the Navy Six Styles. For now, steel would have to be his equalizer.
The warship rounded the headland. In the distance, the pirate flag—a skull pierced by a rapier—fluttered over a town choked by smoke. The Marines on deck tightened their grips on their rifles, the sound of nervous swallowing echoing in the sudden silence.
War was here. And war was a hungry beast.
"Boss! Marines!" the pirate lookout shrieked.
The Li Jian Pirates scrambled, retreating from the pillaged streets only to collide head-on with the landing Marine force.
Atlas didn't wait for orders. He was a blur of motion, leaning into a dead sprint that carried him past the front lines. He ignored the rank-and-file pirates, his eyes locked on the two-meter giant with the rapier.
"Wait! Atlas!" Wright's voice was lost in the din.
Otto Mann looked up, a sneer forming as he saw a mere boy charging him. "A chore boy? Is the Navy that desperate?"
Atlas didn't speak. He closed the distance in heartbeats, the air whistling around his blade.
"One-Sword Style: Lion's Song!"
The name was a lie—a title stolen from a future swordsman—but the intent was real. The sheer weight of Atlas's year of training was behind the strike.
Otto Mann raised his rapier to parry, expecting to swat the boy aside.
CLANG!
The impact felt like a falling building. The pirate captain's eyes bugged out as his rapier was slammed into his own chest. He was sent tumbling backward, rolling through the dirt like a broken toy.
Atlas didn't give him a second to breathe. He stepped into a deep bow-stance, the cutlass humming.
Otto Mann let out a roar of panic, performing a desperate, undignified roll to avoid the follow-up. He saved his heart, but his left arm wasn't as lucky. The blade sheared through muscle and bone.
"Agh! My arm! You little bastard!"
The pirate captain's face went gray. He wasn't a hero; he was a bully, and bullies don't know how to fight from the ground. In a desperate bid, he lunged forward with his remaining hand, his rapier aimed at Atlas's heart.
Atlas dropped his center of gravity, a cold feint that drew the pirate's strike wide, and then drove his blade into Otto's thigh.
The sound of the spray was like a heavy rain.
Otto Mann collapsed, the life draining out of him as he clutched his mangled leg. The duel had lasted less than thirty seconds.
The Li Jian Pirates stood frozen. Their "invincible" captain had been dismantled by a child with a mop-bucket title. Their spirit shattered like glass. One by one, they dropped their weapons, falling to their knees as the Marines closed in with shackles.
The battle was over.
Lieutenant Wright walked through the settling dust, his boots crunching on the gravel. He looked at Atlas, then at the defeated captain, and finally back at the boy. He patted Atlas's shoulder, too stunned to find words.
Atlas turned. His face was splattered with red, but he was grinning—a wide, perfect smile that revealed eight brilliant white teeth.
It was a sunny look, the kind you'd see on a recruitment poster, yet beneath the carnage, it was utterly chilling.