The era of the Rocks Pirates.
As Zed sat in the cramped, salt-stained cabin of the Blue Spider, the name echoed in his mind like a low-frequency hum. This wasn't the era of the Great Pirate Age he had seen in the snippets of history; this was the brutal, unrefined dawn of the monsters. Rocks D. Xebec, Whitebeard, Big Mom, Kaido—they were all out there, carving their names into the world with blood and lightning.
A dark, electric thrill shot through his reconstructed nervous system. To most, this was a death sentence. To Zed, it was a playground. He didn't want to save the world, and he didn't necessarily want to rule it in the traditional sense. He wanted to break it. He wanted to pull the strings of the "gods" of this era from the darkness, steering the course of history from behind the curtain. Why? Because he liked it. Because for the first time, he held the blade instead of being the one under it.
He closed his eyes, sinking into the cold, digital sanctuary of his mind. The System interface flickered to life, its violet-and-gold glow illuminating the darkness of his inner vision.
[Current Emotional Resonance Points: 324]
A significant jump. The slaughter on the deck had been a harvest. Most of these points were distilled from pure, concentrated terror—the kind that makes a man's heart stop before the blade even touches him. But 324 was a pittance. In the grand scheme of the Dimensional Store, he was a beggar looking at a king's treasury.
He began to scroll through the tabs, his mind moving with the speed of a processor. He ignored the legendary weapons for now; he already had the ultimate tools of the Galaxy Slayer. He ignored the consumable potions and temporary buffs. Finally, he found a hidden sub-menu labeled [Soul Partition: The Avatar Protocol].
His breath hitched as he read the description: "Project a fragment of your core essence into a secondary physical vessel. This vessel is a blank slate—customizable in appearance, gender, and power set. The Avatar operates as an independent entity but remains tethered to the Prime Will. Perfect for infiltration and manipulation."
The idea was intoxicating. Why be one man against the world when he could be a dozen? He could play every side like a grand puppet master. Then, he saw the price: 38,900 Points.
"A long grind ahead," he whispered, the metallic resonance of his voice vibrating in the small room.
A soft, hesitant rapping at the wooden door broke his concentration. A young woman stood there—one of the survivors. In the world of One Piece, even the commoners possessed a strange, exaggerated beauty, but she wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. To look into Zed's eyes was to stare into a black hole.
"T-there is..." she stammered. "A Marine ship. It's... it's coming alongside."
Zed's masked face didn't move, but the temperature in the hallway seemed to drop five degrees. He brushed past her, his presence so heavy and oppressive that she stumbled back. He reached the deck and walked straight to the railing. In the distance, a Marine scout ship was cutting through the waves.
Without hesitating, Zed stepped over the railing.
He didn't fall into the sea. Before the drop, he had spent 120 Points on a utility skill: [Treading of the Void]. As his boots hit the surface of the water, the ocean didn't swallow him. Instead, a ripple of dark energy spread out from his soles.
He began to walk.
On the Marine ship, the panic was instantaneous. A man in black-and-gold armor walking across the waves with the casual grace of a god? Only a fool—or a dog—wouldn't be terrified.
"Open fire!" the Marine Captain screamed. Musket fire peppered the water around Zed, but he didn't even flinch. He moved with a fluid, serpentine rhythm, dodging bullets as if they were standing still. He was farming them. Every gasp of horror was another point ticking into his bank.
He reached the hull and cleared the railing in a single leap. The air on the deck turned stagnant. Thirty Marines stood with rifles leveled. A Lieutenant stepped forward, his sword shaking.
"Identify yourself!" he yelled. "If you are aiding pirates, you'll rot in Impel Down!"
Zed didn't bother responding. He simply raised his hand, and the liquid gold began to flow.
An hour later, the Blue Spider finally docked at the pier of the village. The thirteen survivors staggered onto the wood, their eyes hollow. Zed stood on the prow for a moment, looking at the charred remains of the town. He didn't speak to them. He didn't care about their thanks. He stepped off the ship and, in a blink of shadow, vanished into the forest.
He pushed deep into the heart of the island, finding a cavern hidden behind thick vines. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of damp earth.
[Level Up: Level 2 Reached.]
[Skill Point Available.]
"Invest in the Q – Razor Shuriken," Zed commanded mentally.
Immediately, two large, lethal-looking shurikens materialized, floating behind his shoulders like celestial wings before fading into his shadow. He spent the rest of the night practicing new strikes, a fusion of the System's lethality and his own cold mind.
Meanwhile, back at sea, the Marine ship Zed had intercepted was found drifting. When the patrol boarded it, they were met with a scene of silent carnage. Every Marine lay dead, executed with surgical precision—save for one.
At the center of the deck, a young ensign sat huddled in the fetal position, his eyes wide and vacant, his mind shattered. He was the only one Zed had spared.
Zed always left one. A witness to tell the tale. A messenger to carry the seed of terror back to the World Government. As the ensign was taken into custody, his only words were a repeating, broken chant: "The shadow... the shadow walks on water... it has no soul..."
The report was sent immediately via Den Den Mushi to Marine Headquarters. The "Emotional Resonance" from the discovery was already starting to pour in. Harley was dead. The student was gone. There was only the shadow. There was only Zed.