The salt spray stung Roman Rakrak's face as the Serpent's Kiss cut through the waves. Beside him, the two Alpha female titans, their immense forms dwarfing even the ship's sturdy masts, grumbled good-naturedly. Rocky, a surprisingly agile boy with a mischievous glint in his eye, perched on Roman's shoulder, occasionally whispering tactical advice (mostly involving creative distractions). They were en route to the Land of the Samurai, a mission born from a desperate need for…well, everything.
"Five years, five months," Roman muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Transmigrated with no system, no cheat codes, no talent...just me and my divine common sense." He grinned, a flash of mischief mirroring Rocky's. "And let me tell you, common sense is a hell of a weapon."
Their journey hadn't been straightforward. Roman, initially pathetically unskilled, had employed an unorthodox training regimen. "Fighting beasts," he explained to the increasingly bewildered titans, "yields double experience. Who needs talent when you've got efficient XP farming?"
His method involved strategically choosing weaker beasts, maximizing experience gain, then retreating for short seclusion periods to consolidate his progress. It was less glamorous than traditional cultivation, more like a highly efficient, if slightly blood-soaked, video game grind. Rocky, ever the resourceful companion, often provided crucial distractions during these battles, creating openings for Roman to strike.
The breakthrough to Great Warrior rank had been met with thunderous applause from the titans. They marveled at his "unprecedented talent," completely oblivious to the meticulously planned battles and calculated seclusion sessions.
"They think I'm some prodigy," Roman chuckled, ruffling Rocky's hair. "Meanwhile, I'm just a guy who figured out the exploit, with a little help from my very clever friend here."
Their arrival in the Land of the Samurai promised more challenges, more "experience farming," and more opportunities for Roman to showcase his cunning and ruthlessness—all while maintaining a comedically detached air. After all, even a god wouldn't stand a chance against a man armed with divine common sense, a well-crafted XP farming strategy, and a remarkably resourceful young accomplice. The journey to becoming the greatest wasn't about innate ability; it was about knowing the game, and Roman Rakrak, with Rocky by his side, was about to show everyone just how well they played it.
The Serpent's Kiss dropped anchor, and Roman, issuing a quick instruction to his Alpha Titans – Shiro and Hinata – to shift from their magnificent winged tiger forms into more discreet human-beast hybrids, led his crew ashore. Rocky, ever eager, bounced ahead, his excitement barely contained.
The Land of the Samurai unfolded before them, a vibrant tapestry of ancient traditions and bustling modernity. Roman, internally marveling at the similarities to ancient Japan, found himself captivated by the sights and sounds. The air hummed with the energy of a culture both steeped in history and fiercely alive.
"First, food," Roman declared, his pragmatic side taking over. "Then, we recruit Fujitora. Let's not keep the legendary samurai waiting."
They found a bustling restaurant, the aroma of exotic spices filling the air. Rocky, his hunger seemingly bottomless, practically vibrated with anticipation. The orders were placed – a feast fit for weary travelers and legendary warriors – and the four of them dove in with gusto. The sounds of chopsticks clicking against bowls and contented sighs filled the air, a symphony of satisfaction accompanying their meal. With renewed energy, they prepared to embark on the next phase of their adventure.
Roman, seeking information, approached a stranger in the bustling streets of what appeared to be a major port city in the Land of the Samurai. "Excuse me," he began, "do you know where I might find the legendary samurai, Fujitora?"
The stranger, initially wary, eyed Roman's attire and the imposing figures of Shiro and Hinata, who remained subtly in the background. "You're looking for Fujitora?" the stranger asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "And why would a pirate like yourself want to meet him?" He gestured towards the impressive Serpent's Kiss visible from the docks. "Your ship...it's hard to miss."
Roman admitted, "Yes, we're pirates. And we're trying to recruit Fujitora."
His words were met with an eruption of laughter. The news spread like wildfire. The legendary Fujitora, the strongest samurai in the land, the man who refused countless pirate captains, was now the target of yet another audacious recruitment attempt.
"He's rejected every pirate captain who's ever approached him," one passerby scoffed. "You're just another fool who'll be sent away with a laugh." The general consensus: Roman's quest was nothing short of delusional. The legendary Fujitora was not someone easily persuaded.
Roman, unfazed by the laughter and skepticism, simply stated, "Fine. If you won't help, just tell me where to find him. Then you'll see what happens."
The passerby, unable to resist the pirate's unwavering confidence, grudgingly pointed towards a modest, traditional-style house tucked away in a quieter part of the city. "That's Fujitora's residence," he muttered. "It's a simple home, nothing like you'd expect from a legendary samurai. Go ahead. If you get rejected, don't worry, you're not the first." He chuckled, shaking his head. The crowd joined in, their laughter echoing down the street.
Despite the amusement, Roman, Shiro, Hinata, and Rocky set off towards the indicated house. Roman's expression remained unchanged, a mask of calm determination hiding the thrill of the impending challenge. The legendary Fujitora awaited.
A young samurai boy answered the knock at Fujitora's door. "Who is it?" he asked, his voice cautious. "I've heard rumors of a pirate trying to recruit my master. Are you the one?"
Roman stepped forward. "Yes," he confirmed. "And I have something far better to offer than any other pirate. I believe I am worthy of being your captain."
Fujitora, appearing suddenly behind the boy, interrupted. "I have no time for this," he said, his tone dismissive. "I must attend to the Centennial War. It's been raging for centuries, and my duty calls."
Roman pressed on. "The Centennial War? What's its strategic importance? Why are you still fighting a war with no apparent purpose?"
Fujitora's response was curt and revealing. "There is no importance. It's a war our ancestors fought, and so we fight. It is tradition."
A beat of silence hung in the air before Roman responded, his tone laced with a hint of disbelief. "You're fighting a war simply because your ancestors did? You have no strategic objective, no clear goal?"
Fujitora's voice rose, "Yes!" His answer was a defiant shout, a testament to the blind adherence to tradition, a tradition that seemed devoid of logic or purpose. Roman knew he had stumbled upon something far more significant than a simple recruitment challenge. This was a deeper issue, one that might require more than just a compelling offer to resolve.
As the two warring samurai factions prepared to clash, Roman appeared seemingly out of thin air. He addressed both sides, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Why are you fighting?" he asked, his tone both curious and challenging.
The responses were eerily similar to Fujitora's: a blend of duty, tradition, and ancestral obligation. One leader spoke of inherited duty, the other of a pointless war that must be continued simply because it had always been fought.
Roman, sensing the absurdity of the situation, pressed his point. "You're wasting lives, resources, everything! You have no clear objective, no rational reason to continue this bloodshed. Why?"
His words struck a chord. The centuries-old conflict, suddenly viewed through the lens of Roman's simple yet profound question, seemed utterly pointless. A stunned silence descended upon the battlefield.
"You're right," one leader finally admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of shame and enlightenment. "We've been fighting for centuries without ever questioning why." The other leader nodded in agreement.
Roman, with a wry smile, delivered his verdict. "You lack common sense. Go home. This isn't a war; it's a circus."
The two factions, their centuries-long conflict abruptly ended by a single, insightful question, sheathed their swords and retreated.
Fujitora, witnessing this astonishing turn of events, approached Roman. "You are…unusual," he remarked, a hint of grudging respect in his voice. "Different. I like that. I think…I might join you." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You stopped a century-old war with a single question. That's…impressive."
"They simply lacked common sense," Roman agreed, "and a little enlightenment. They needed a dose of reality." Turning to Fujitora, he extended an invitation. "If you're joining my crew, let's head back to the ship."
Fujitora, along with Shiro, Hinata, and Rocky, followed Roman back to the Serpent's Kiss. The sight that greeted them was astounding. The ship, far from being a simple vessel, was a marvel of technology and magic, a floating fortress bristling with advanced features.
"These…programs," Fujitora stammered, his voice filled with awe. He pointed to various displays showing weather manipulation algorithms, advanced defense and offense systems, and sophisticated navigation tools. "Such sophisticated control over the elements…it's unheard of! Even the legendary Noah's Ark, with its supposed hundreds of programs, couldn't match this level of technology. How…how did you achieve this?"
Roman simply smiled. "It's a secret," he said, "but let's just say it involved a little more than just 'millions of illusions and a great kingdom.' This technology surpasses anything I've ever seen or heard of, even from the most advanced civilizations. It's quite remarkable." Fujitora's eyes widened in shock and wonder, taking in the sheer technological superiority of the Serpent's Kiss. The ship was more than a vessel; it was a testament to Roman's ingenuity and resourcefulness, a powerful symbol of his unique capabilities.