The air was thick with gunpowder and fear.
At the port, cannon fire thundered like an endless drumbeat, shaking the ground beneath Kyle's feet. Panicked screams carried through the salty wind, blending with the crash of waves against the dock.
He ignored them all.
The townspeople fled in every direction—men dragging carts of goods, women clutching their children, fishermen abandoning their boats—but Kyle walked straight toward the chaos. There was no hesitation in his steps, no flicker of fear in his golden eyes. Instead, there was something else—an uncontrollable, almost dangerous excitement.
He had been adrift for days, tossed on waves without direction, trapped in the strange melancholy of a wanderer lost in a new world. That aimless feeling had been gnawing at him, building pressure inside his chest.
Now, at last, he had found a release.
And it came in the form of the Black Shark Pirates.
---
Near the port's edge, a wooden door was kicked open with a splintering crack.
"Hey, brothers!" a pirate shouted, his voice brimming with greed. "This shop looks like it's full of loot!"
Five or six thugs barged inside, laughing, their boots stomping over broken glass. Each wore the same emblem on their ragged jackets—a snarling black shark.
They didn't see him.
Kyle moved silently through the chaos, slipping behind them like a shadow. His gaze swept over the men, sharp and calculating.
Invisible waves of vibration spread outward from his body, expanding in every direction like ripples on a pond. The sensation brushed over every weapon at their waists, every buckle, every belt clasp, every brittle weak point in their bodies.
The instant his mind focused—
The leader raised his scimitar, ready to smash open a locked chest, when the blade in his hand began to hum. The vibration grew stronger, higher-pitched—
Bzzzzz!
The weapon shattered. Steel fragments tinkled onto the wooden floor like falling rain.
The man's eyes went wide. "M-My sword… what… what's going on?!"
He didn't have time to finish the thought.
A sudden tingling crawled through his body, followed by a crushing pressure deep inside his chest. It was as if invisible hands had reached in, seizing his organs and twisting hard.
His knees buckled. No sound came out when he tried to scream. His companions dropped in the same instant, clutching their stomachs, their eyes rolling back. Foamy blood bubbled from their lips and nostrils.
Not a single gunshot, not a single shout—only the faint tink of broken metal and the heavy thud of collapsing bodies.
Kyle didn't spare them a glance. He stepped over the fallen pirates and walked toward his next target.
---
"That kid!" one of the remaining pirates yelled, his voice cracking. "He's the one killing everyone!"
The spell of shock broke.
Dozens of eyes snapped toward Kyle. Muzzles and sword tips swung in his direction.
"Fire! Kill him!"
Muskets roared, spitting leaden death. Cutlasses and sabers flashed in the sunlight, their edges thirsty for blood.
Kyle didn't move.
The bullets were nearly on him when his body shimmered. His outline wavered, edges blurring like the air above a scorching road in midsummer. Subtle ripples distorted his form—
—and the bullets passed straight through him.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
They slammed into the wall behind, splintering wood into dust. The swords that should have cut flesh met nothing but resistance-less air, passing through with the same strange ripples.
"Wha—?!" a pirate choked. "We… cut through air?!"
"He's—he's a ghost!" another shrieked.
Panic set in. They had faced Devil Fruit users before, but nothing like this.
Kyle's lips curled into a cold smile. His mastery of elementalization wasn't perfect yet, but here, in the middle of battle, it was flowing like second nature. The feeling… wasn't bad at all.
---
He moved through them like a dancer on the edge of a blade.
One moment solid, the next incorporeal. Every flicker of movement was followed by a pirate collapsing without a cry. Some clutched their chests as if something inside had caved in. Others dropped their weapons with limp fingers, eyes rolling back as blood trickled from their noses and ears.
"Too slow. Too weak," Kyle said, his voice cutting through the clamor like a whip crack.
He stopped, planting both feet firmly, and thrust his hands forward.
Boom!
The first shockwave burst outward, tangible and violent, leaving a white scar of compressed air in its path. It slammed toward a group of pirates huddled together in uncertainty.
Before they could move, two more followed in quick succession.
Boom! Boom!
Three in total—each one a hammer of force.
The pirates didn't even scream. They were simply gone, blasted backward into the buildings behind them. Wooden walls exploded outward, rooftops collapsing in showers of dust and splinters.
Silence fell.
Townspeople who had been peeking from behind barrels and doorways stared, wide-eyed. Even the surviving pirates froze, weapons trembling in their hands.
"A… monster!" one muttered, before tossing his cutlass aside and running for his life.
---
Kyle was ready to chase them down when a sudden wave of dizziness struck. His vision swam.
Not now…
His knees almost buckled. The thrill of battle drained away, leaving behind a deep, bone-deep fatigue. He had pushed his Devil Fruit abilities to the limit—and he hadn't eaten in days. His body was screaming for energy.
"Damn it…" he thought, bracing against a wall. "I need to finish this fast—"
"Captain!" a voice rang out. "That kid's slowing down!"
---
From the center of the docks, a huge man stepped forward. His scarred face was carved into a permanent scowl, and in his hands he held a weapon that seemed absurd even here—a ship's anchor, the size of a man, chain links rattling behind him.
The Captain of the Black Shark Pirates.
His eyes locked on Kyle with cold fury. "You've cost me men and time, brat. That ends now."
"Everyone!" he roared. "Attack! Kill him, and your bounty doubles!"
---
Kyle's body tensed—but danger didn't come from the front.
A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye—too fast.
From the shadows behind him, a tall, thin man lunged. His long sword gleamed wickedly, the blade coated in a glossy black sheen that seemed to swallow the light.
Armament Haki.
What the hell—? In a place like this?
The blade came for his ribs. Kyle twisted—
Rip!
Pain flared hot. Blood stained his black shirt in seconds.
He staggered back, clutching his side, teeth bared.
The swordsman sneered, advancing slowly, his blade dripping crimson. "Your tricks are strange, boy. But this—" he tapped the blackened steel "—is Armament Haki. Against it, your illusions are useless."
Kyle's breath came ragged. Sweat chilled his back.
Reckless. Too reckless. Do even side characters pull stunts like this now?
For a moment, the thought hit him—Am I really going to die right after leaving the Newbie Village?
Then—he smirked. Nah. I lied.
---
His body split into three—two shimmering light-and-shadow clones rushing in from opposite sides while his real self darted forward head-on.
The swordsman's eyes widened. He slashed wildly, uncertain which target to defend against—
A shadow dropped from above.
Clang!
The impact rang like a bell, the shock forcing the swordsman back several steps. His grip faltered, fingers numb from the blow.
---
A figure now stood between Kyle and the enemy, blocking the blade with ease. The brim of his straw hat tilted low, shadowing his eyes.
Kyle froze, staring at the man's profile. His breath caught. His pupils shrank.
An image from memory, thought lost forever, slammed into him like a tidal wave.
"A… Ace?!"
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