Chapter 1 – Ashen Dawn
The sky was a cracked canvas of storm-grey clouds. Rain fell in sheets, pounding the remnants of the wooden fishing boat like nails into a coffin. Splinters bobbed in the roiling waters, drifting aimlessly. Among the wreckage floated a body—slender, pale, and bloodied. Life had long since fled it, or so it seemed.
Until the eyes snapped open.
They were a strange shade—ashen silver, with flickers of defiance burning just beneath the surface.
Coughing, sputtering, and gasping for air, the boy heaved himself onto a floating timber. His fingers, slim but calloused, dug into the wet wood as he coughed up brine. Memories clashed in his mind—a shattered mirror reflecting two lives at once.
He didn't know where he was yet. Not fully.
But he knew one thing: he was alive.
And that shouldn't have been possible. Because he had died.
---
His name, or at least the one that made sense now, was Ashen Veyr.
Back in his old world, he had lived a life of survival. Dirty alleyways. Fists clenched tight around cheap meals. Betrayal behind familiar eyes. Friends who sold him out when food was scarce or danger loomed. Family? None. The system there had been ruthless. He had clawed his way through life only to die from something as stupid as trusting the wrong person one last time.
When he awoke in this new body, soaked to the bone and clinging to life, something inside him clicked—not just survival instincts but something... more.
System Integration Complete.
Berry Conversion System Online.
Starting Balance: 28,742 Berry.
Current Level: Novice (Level 1).
It appeared in his mind—not visually projected, but felt. A game-like interface, oddly intuitive. Berry, the currency of the world. And apparently, the key to power.
---
He had been drifting for what felt like hours. Hunger gnawed at his belly, but adrenaline and confusion pushed him to keep paddling, using a broken oar he found floating nearby. In the distance, land appeared—rocky cliffs at first, then a stretch of sandy shore backed by dark jungle.
He collapsed onto the beach, panting. His lean, defined frame trembled as water dripped from his soaked clothes. His white-grey hair clung to his face like seaweed.
Rain was still falling, but the storm had weakened. The world around him was alien—vibrant, dangerous, alive. The air carried a strange heaviness, like the pressure of a presence just out of sight. This wasn't Earth. He knew it in his bones.
---
As he lay catching his breath, memories from the body he now inhabited began to surface. They weren't full recollections—more like echoes.
A boy, alone. Orphaned. Parents killed by pirates.
He had survived by working for scraps—hauling nets, cleaning harbors, salvaging from wreckage. No name spoken clearly, no friends that mattered. Just jobs, meals, and bruises. The last memory was the storm. The fishing boat splitting apart. A scream swallowed by waves.
Ashen clenched his fists. This boy... was like him. Just another broken thing the world forgot.
But not anymore.
Because he was here now. And this time, he had a system. Power. A chance to climb.
---
Ashen sat up, letting the rain wash over him. The interface responded to his thoughts, and he examined it again.
Level: Novice [0/10,000 Berry]
Berry: 28,742
Core Attributes:
Strength: Novice (2,000/10,000)
Endurance: Novice (1,500/10,000)
Durability: Novice (1,000/10,000)
Agility: Novice (2,242/10,000)
Skill Trees: Locked
(Requirements: Attribute Thresholds & Situational Conditions)
Convert Option: Active
There were no tutorials. No sentient voice guiding him. Just numbers. Systems. Rules. He'd have to figure it out as he went.
Ashen slowly stood, his soaked clothes clinging to him. Despite the pain and disorientation, he felt... capable. His movements were coordinated, his balance sharp. Maybe the new body was naturally trained from years of labor, or maybe something else was kicking in.
He walked along the tree line until he found a thick piece of driftwood—light, but firm. Not ideal, but it would serve as a weapon for now.
---
As dusk approached, Ashen stumbled across a small boar-like creature foraging near the trees. It was wild, tusked, and territorial. When it spotted him, it charged with a shriek.
He stepped aside, narrowly dodging. His heart raced, instincts flaring.
[Danger Detected: Engage or Evade]
Ashen didn't run.
He twisted his body and brought the makeshift staff down hard on the beast's side. It squealed, turned, and rushed again. This time, he met the charge directly, dodging at the last second and striking the neck.
Three more blows, and the creature collapsed.
Ashen stood over the body, chest heaving.
A notification pulsed in his mind.
Beast Defeated. Value: 943 Berry
Convert?
Y/N
He didn't hesitate. Yes.
The body shimmered briefly—almost like heat distortion—and vanished.
Berry +943
Agility +500
Strength +400
Endurance +200
His legs felt steadier. His grip tighter.
So that's how it works.
Kill. Convert. Grow.
---
That night, he built a crude shelter using fallen branches and dried leaves. It wasn't much, but it kept the wind off. He sat with his back to a tree, eyes scanning the stars through breaks in the canopy.
A storm had cast him here.
But for the first time in either life, he wasn't completely powerless.
He could grow stronger. Not by begging, or stealing, or obeying someone stronger than him—but by converting the world itself into his own fuel.
That thought alone brought a crooked smile to his face.
---
Morning came with light winds and clear skies. The island was far from uninhabited—he spotted smoke in the distance and heard cannon fire echo faintly from beyond the cliffs.
He wasn't alone in this world.
But the boy who once feared betrayal now had sharper teeth.
And with every beast he felled, every treasure scavenged, and every scrap he converted into power, he stepped closer to something greater.
He didn't know what waited at the end of the system's strange hierarchy—Master, Grandmaster, Legend, Divine...—those titles were just placeholders for now.
But instinct told him: "Legend" was where monsters walked.
And "Divine"?
That was something else entirely.
---
Elsewhere...
Far across the sea, deep in the Grand Line, a man wearing a black coat with a curved saber on his back frowned. He stood atop a shattered galleon, gazing toward the horizon. His Observation Haki had trembled for just a moment—like a new storm had been born, quiet and distant.
He didn't know why.
But something dangerous had begun to stir.
---
Ashen rose with the early light filtering through the canopy. His muscles ached—not from injury, but the pleasant burn of use. The previous night's fight replayed in his mind: the tusked beast, the weight of the driftwood staff, the rush of combat. Primitive, yes, but deeply satisfying. A sense of purpose grounded in instinct.
He rubbed his hands together, the calluses more noticeable now. That beast hadn't been much, but it had given him valuable feedback. Strength mattered here. Skill would come later. But right now, survival was tied directly to growth.
"Convert. Kill. Grow." It was a brutal mantra, but it made sense in this world.
Ashen called the system interface again—not aloud, but through thought.
Berry: 29,685
Core Attributes:
Strength: Novice (2,400/10,000)
Endurance: Novice (1,700/10,000)
Durability: Novice (1,000/10,000)
Agility: Novice (2,742/10,000)
Threshold to Amateur (Next Tier): 10,000 in any attribute.
A pattern was emerging. Each kill didn't just add Berry—it reinforced attributes depending on how the kill was made. Agile strikes boosted Agility. Taking damage seemed to increase Durability. Endurance built slowly, probably through sustained effort or long battles. Strength… that one was clearest. Impact, power, force.
The staff wouldn't last forever, though. It was too light for real fights. He needed something more solid—and soon.
---
He headed into the deeper jungle, following a narrow game trail that twisted between roots and vines. The canopy above filtered the sun into golden shards. His bare feet moved with caution, eyes alert for threats.
He heard them before he saw them.
Voices.
Three men, dressed in ragged, mismatched clothing, were crouched over something near a shallow riverbed. One held a rusted cutlass. Another had a musket slung over his back. They were arguing over a crate—half-submerged and marked with a red 'X'.
Pirates.
Not the flashy kind with ships flying Jolly Rogers and bounty posters. These were scavenger-tier, the kind that picked over the bones of wrecks and traded slaves or stolen goods for cheap rum. Ashen ducked low behind a tree trunk, heart pounding.
He didn't know the full scope of this world's power system yet. For all he knew, these men could crush him with a flick of the wrist.
But the system whispered differently.
Targets Detected. Estimated Conversion Value: 6,000–10,000 Berry each.
That wasn't high. And if they were stronger, the system would have warned him—or at least hinted.
Still… three on one.
He needed a plan.
---
Ashen waited. He studied their behavior. They were careless—two stood bickering while the third turned his back to relieve himself in the bushes.
Ashen crept closer. He reached for a broken branch, thick like a club, and crouched low.
His body moved on instinct. Silent. Calculated. His lean muscles worked in perfect sync as he closed the gap.
The first blow came fast and brutal. A solid crack to the skull of the man with the cutlass. The pirate dropped like a stone before he could scream.
The other two turned, startled.
Ashen didn't give them time.
He swept low, striking the musket man's legs, then swung upward into his ribs. The man collapsed, gasping. The third—still fumbling with his pants—reached for a knife, but Ashen was already moving.
A jab to the throat, followed by a vicious elbow to the nose. Blood sprayed.
Seconds later, all three lay groaning or unconscious in the mud.
Convert Corpses?
Y/N
Only one was dead. The other two… close.
Ashen hesitated for the briefest second, but survival demanded no mercy. He brought the club down again. One. Two.
Then silence.
Y.
+24,983 Berry Gained
Strength +1,000 | Endurance +1,500 | Agility +600 | Durability +1,200
The corpses shimmered and vanished.
Ashen exhaled slowly. His heart was racing, but the system's reward soothed the storm in his chest.
This was the path. And there was no turning back.
----------------
Ashen squatted by the riverbank, rinsing the blood from his hands in silence. The red swirls faded downstream like whispers, carried off without ceremony. The club, now splintered and caked with gore, lay discarded behind him. He had taken the rusted cutlass from the first pirate—it wasn't ideal, but steel was steel.
The blade was chipped and poorly balanced, but it was far better than driftwood. He gave it a few test swings, adjusting to its awkward heft. His stance shifted naturally, feet shoulder-width apart, one hand loose on the hilt.
His body had memory. Whether from the teenager he'd taken over or remnants of his previous life, his movements weren't those of a novice. It was rough, unrefined—but there was potential.
The system hadn't unlocked anything under "Swordsmanship" yet. That probably meant no technical skill had been demonstrated. Not until he fought with precision. For now, the cutlass would serve as a stepping stone.
Berry: 54,668
Core Attributes:
Strength: 3,400 / 10,000
Endurance: 3,200 / 10,000
Durability: 2,200 / 10,000
Agility: 3,342 / 10,000
Still Novice, but rapidly progressing. At this rate, he could break through to Amateur in at least one category soon—maybe Strength or Agility first.
He looked over to the half-submerged crate the pirates had been arguing over. Curiosity stirred.
Dragging it to the shore, he pried the top open with the edge of the cutlass.
Inside were wrapped bundles—mostly preserved food, some salted meat, and a handful of small, colorful vials. One glowed faintly green.
Ashen blinked. That... looked unnatural.
[Item Detected: Low-Grade Stamina Elixir]
Estimated Value: 1,500 Berry | Consume to restore minor stamina.
Useful. But he didn't convert it.
Not yet.
He packed the meat and vials into a tattered canvas sack the pirates had carried and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to move.
He needed a better vantage point—someplace he could assess where the hell he was. The terrain so far suggested a small jungle island. Possibly near one of the more isolated Grand Line trade routes, judging by the pirates' loot.
Ashen began to climb.
---
The path up the rocky ridge was steep, but his stamina held. He paused only once to sip water from a small stream that trickled between moss-covered stones.
Halfway up, a system prompt flickered in his mind:
Passive Trait Gained: Climber's Instinct
"Endurance +100, Agility +150 when scaling vertical terrain."
That surprised him. So the system responded to behavior patterns, not just combat. Good to know.
At the peak, Ashen stood silently as wind brushed his hair back. His eyes scanned the horizon.
To the west: endless ocean.
To the east: the skeletal remains of a fishing boat wedged into a reef. Torn nets dangled like ghosts. That was the wreck he had washed ashore from.
To the north: dense jungle.
To the south: smoke.
Thin black tendrils rose above the canopy, subtle but steady. Campfire, maybe? Or a ship's signal fire?
He narrowed his eyes.
If it was more pirates, he could either avoid them or… test himself again.
But if it was someone else—fishermen, traders, or worse—the risk increased. He needed intel. If the One Piece world operated like he remembered, islands were rarely neutral. They were claimed, contested, or crawling with hidden dangers.
He would need to approach carefully.
---
By dusk, Ashen had closed half the distance to the smoke's source. He moved through the underbrush like a wraith, senses alert. He was starting to trust his instincts—there was a sharpened edge to his awareness now.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in orange and crimson, Ashen caught the scent of grilled fish. And something else: salt, oil, burning wood.
Then he saw the fire.
A small campsite had been set up in a clearing beside a rocky pool. A single tent. A pot suspended over the flames. And one man—lean, middle-aged, with a long rifle propped against a stone.
He wasn't a pirate.
His clothes were worn but clean. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and his eyes were the sharp, measured kind. Hunter or mercenary, maybe.
Ashen crouched in the shadows, watching.
Target Detected. Estimated Conversion Value: 32,000 Berry.
Warning: Higher combat ability than previous foes.
That was new. A warning.
Which meant this man wasn't just stronger—he could pose a real threat.
Ashen's fingers tightened on the cutlass hilt. He could feel the edge of something unfamiliar—his heart didn't race in fear, but anticipation.
He didn't want to run.
He wanted to test himself.
Ashen stayed crouched beneath a thick canopy of vines, the firelight reflecting faintly in his eyes. The lone man moved with a soldier's discipline, calmly sipping from a wooden bowl. He didn't appear to notice Ashen's presence.
But something about him set Ashen on edge.
[Kenbunshoku Haki: 0% — Not Unlocked]
The message lingered faintly in the corner of his vision, as though the system was reacting to the tension—acknowledging the sensation building in his gut. He couldn't access it yet, but... it was like a door creaked somewhere deep within his mind.
No. Not now. It wasn't time.
He needed more information.
Ashen backed away, silent as a shadow. He circled the camp from a distance, noting the man's gear—a satchel, small chest, water gourds, and what looked like a rolled-up map.
That was what he needed. Knowledge of the area. Directions. Names. But approaching directly might be suicide. The man looked like he'd shoot first and ask later.
Still, Ashen couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.
So he waited.
---
Hours passed.
The fire dulled into glowing embers. The man finally lay down, wrapping himself in a tattered cloak, rifle beside him.
Ashen waited longer.
When the man's breathing settled into the rhythm of sleep, Ashen crept forward.
Step by step.
He didn't breathe. Every inch of movement was calculated. The old instincts from his past life, blended with the body's muscle memory, guided him.
He reached the satchel first.
Inside: dry rations, a small folded journal, ink-stained parchment, and a compass. Jackpot.
He pulled the map free, unfolded it under the moonlight, and memorized the markings. This island had a name—Varkas Isle—and was listed as a "stopgap port" for smugglers and traveling merchants. It was marked as "Unclaimed," but not empty. Three trade outposts were scrawled along the coast.
Better yet, there was a Marine symbol marked to the southeast—with a date written beside it: "Inspection—2 Weeks."
He memorized everything he could.
And just as he slid the map back—
Click.
The soft whisper of metal. The rifle was pointed directly at his chest.
The man's voice was cold, tired, but steady.
"You move well for a thief."
Ashen didn't flinch.
He slowly raised both hands, the cutlass still strapped to his back. "Didn't take anything," he replied calmly. "Just needed to know where I was."
The man sat up, rifle never wavering. His eyes narrowed. "You with the Black Ledge Crew?"
Ashen blinked. "No. Killed two of them earlier today. Left their bodies near the east river."
The man studied him.
Then, slowly, lowered the gun.
"Well... you've got guts, at least."
Ashen relaxed—but only slightly.
The man pulled the pot from the embers and poured some of its contents into a cup. He gestured.
"Sit. You've earned some stew."
Ashen hesitated... then sat.
The two of them ate in silence, the fire crackling softly between them.
---
Eventually, the man spoke. "Name's Garrick. I hunt pirates for a living. Used to be a scout in the Revolutionary Army. You?"
Ashen hesitated, then offered a half-truth. "Name's Ashen. Survivor. That's all I've got right now."
Garrick grunted. "Plenty of those around here."
He poured another cup of stew, then eyed Ashen again. "You're not a normal kid."
"I'm not."
Garrick didn't push further. He simply leaned back, staring at the stars.
"You know this world will eat you alive, right?"
Ashen smiled faintly. "Let it try."
[Passive Trait Evolved: Defiance]
"Slight bonus to Endurance and Mental Resistance when facing stronger foes."
Garrick raised an eyebrow at Ashen's calm confidence but didn't comment.
Eventually, he asked, "You planning to head to the coast?"
Ashen nodded. "I need to reach the southern trade outpost."
"Bad idea," Garrick replied flatly. "Place is crawling with smugglers. Black Ledge Crew runs part of it. Your face won't be welcome."
"Then I'll go west."
"Even worse. That's Rokko territory. Mercenaries and flesh traders."
Ashen considered.
Then he asked, "What would you do?"
Garrick sipped his stew. "Find a ship heading south. Blend in. Learn. Survive."
He looked at Ashen thoughtfully. "Or... carve your own path."
Ashen's eyes met his. That last part echoed in his mind.
[New Objective Path Unlocked: ??? — "Carve Your Own Path"]
Strange. It wasn't from the system. It was something deeper—something awakening within him.
---------------
Morning broke slowly over the Varkas canopy. Pale light filtered through the jungle leaves, gilding everything in shades of green and gold. The fire had long since died, and Garrick was already up, sharpening a long knife with deliberate strokes.
Ashen rubbed sleep from his eyes, muscles sore but responsive. He was healing—fast. Whether it was the body's natural condition or something tied to the system, he couldn't say. But he felt stronger than yesterday.
[Strength: 3.4 → 3.6]
[Endurance: 4.1 → 4.5]
[Durability: 3.8 → 4.0]
[Agility: 3.2 → 3.5]
A quiet rush of satisfaction passed through him. Progress. Even if he didn't understand the full scale yet, the numbers didn't lie.
He was getting better.
Garrick tossed him a strip of dried meat and a waterskin. "Today, you move west."
Ashen raised an eyebrow. "Thought you said west was suicide."
Garrick smirked. "It is. But there's something there you need."
Ashen waited.
"An old outpost. Marine-run a few years ago. Abandoned when pirates started raiding supply ships. Word is, the place still has a signal mirror and charts."
Ashen understood immediately. "I can use them to signal for a passing ship."
"Exactly. Risky, but doable. Better than waiting for a miracle."
Ashen took a deep breath. "When do I leave?"
"Now. I'll draw any scouts away east. Give you a window."
Ashen stared at him. "Why help me?"
Garrick's eyes darkened slightly. "Because once, someone did the same for me. And you... you've got the look of someone who might do something dangerous with a second chance."
Ashen bowed slightly, sincerely. "Then I won't waste it."
Garrick handed him a compass and a small vial. "Smear this on your blade. Toxic, paralyzes muscle for an hour if it gets in the bloodstream. You'll need every edge."
Ashen accepted it, fastening it inside his satchel. Then he turned, adjusted the sword on his back, and took his first real step into the jungle with purpose.
---
The western trail was barely more than broken underbrush and faint animal tracks. Every few hundred meters, he stopped to listen. Birds called out warnings. Insects buzzed. But no human movement—yet.
He climbed a ridge, then paused.
Below, a faint structure emerged through the vines—a broken wooden watchtower, its top leaning awkwardly. Beyond it, the silhouette of the outpost walls.
He descended quickly, but carefully.
[Agility: +0.1 (terrain navigation)]
The outer walls were half-rotted, vines winding up their beams. No movement inside. He slipped through a gap near the corner and crouched low.
Dust. Crumbled barrels. Footprints—weeks old.
The signal mirror was his first target. It had once stood atop a central platform, now collapsed, but parts of the reflective panel remained. He gathered the shards and started reassembling a crude signal base on an exposed rooftop nearby.
Then he found the charts—tucked away inside a rusted locker, wrapped in a mold-stained marine coat. They were usable, if brittle.
He rolled them carefully and tucked them into his satchel.
That's when he heard the voices.
Low, gruff. Two men. Maybe three.
Ashen immediately doused his presence, diving behind a broken slab of wall. The voices got closer—smugglers, most likely.
"They said some brat was asking around the riverside last night. Could be him."
"Boss wants his head. He's killed two of ours already."
Ashen's mind raced. He had maybe seconds.
His eyes darted to the far tower. Still standing, but unstable. Could be a distraction.
He picked up a rock and tossed it at a support beam near the base.
Crash—!
The tower gave way in a dramatic fall of splintered wood.
"Shit—check it!"
As they ran toward the noise, Ashen dashed silently in the opposite direction, circling the wall and vanishing into the jungle once again.
---
Hours passed.
He didn't stop until he reached the edge of a sheer cliff overlooking the ocean. There, under the full glare of the sun, he set up the mirror fragments. The system guided his hand subtly—calculating angle, intensity, timing.
He aimed it westward. Toward the sea lane.
He waited.
Nothing for minutes.
Then—sails. A dark shape on the horizon.
Ashen signaled again.
This time, the ship's heading shifted—toward him.
A smile formed at the corner of his mouth.
[Berry Earned: 800 (from scavenged marine supplies and relics)]
[Total Berry: 31,200]
[Progress to Level: 31.2% to Amateur]
[Strength +0.2 | Agility +0.3 | Endurance +0.4 | Durability +0.2]
He had survived the first trial of this new world.
And now, the seas awaited.
End of Chapter 1
----------------------
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