As Ron and Nami argued, her small boat had already left Cocoyashi behind, gliding deeper into the boundless sea.
The island vanished from sight, swallowed by the horizon. In every direction, there was only endless water, shimmering with light, stretching on without end.
And then the System's voice echoed in Ron's ears.
Achievement Unlocked: First Voyage – 1 Achievement Point awarded
He had been waiting for this one. He thought it would trigger the moment they set sail, but the judgment only came when Cocoyashi was gone from view.
Without hesitation, Ron funneled the point straight into Spirit.
At once, the change was sharp and clear. By his estimation, his Spirit had now reached around fourteen. It did not sound like much, but compared to the three or four of an average person, his soul's strength was already triple, perhaps quadruple.
Nami, sitting nearby, blinked. She could not explain it, but she swore Ron's eyes seemed brighter than before.
Their argument continued… but in the end, Ron won.
He had one unbeatable weapon. Age. No matter what Nami said, the truth remained, she was only fourteen.
And when she tried her usual tricks to bait him into giving up, he countered her every time. Each feint, each misdirection, he caught them all, his reactions crisp and immediate. That, more than anything, left her unsettled.
He was sharper than he looked.
For Ron, this was expected. Spirit was not only about magic. It was thought, memory, the velocity of the mind. The stronger the Spirit, the faster the thinking. Without such speed, how could anyone ever hope to weave twenty-seven runes for fourth-tier magic or eighty-one for the legendary fifth?
Even decoding nine runes alone could consume an ordinary man's lifetime.
Ron, however, preferred simpler solutions. Why unravel schemes when magic could erase the problem? With overwhelming power, one spell could silence the world.
…
The voyage dragged on.
Nami's boat was only a single-mast dinghy. No kitchen, no cabins, only dry food and water she had stocked beforehand. With her skill at navigation, they avoided storms and treacherous currents, but the waves still pitched them up and down endlessly.
Ron had never been at sea before. He would have been sick, but his Spirit crushed the discomfort, and soon enough he grew accustomed to the swaying of the ocean.
What he could not ignore, however, was Nami herself.
The mischievous little fox would curl up nearby, looking as though she were asleep, seemingly unguarded. But Ron knew better, she was never without defenses.
Still, he had to chant his mantra over and over in his heart. I am not a lolicon. I am not a lolicon.
Thankfully, meditation saved him. Within its depths, his Spirit became tranquil, untouched by distractions. He could sense the world without being swayed by it.
So for four days, he spent most of his time cultivating in silence.
The Wind Blade had already reached high proficiency. Further practice yielded little. The real key now was pushing his Spirit higher, sharpening thought, accelerating rune construction. Spirit was the forge of all magic.
Four days later, the boat reached the largest island town in the region. Not a grand island, but big enough to dwarf the small ones nearby. It was a bustling trade hub, guarded by a Marine presence.
From the shadows, Nami peeked around a wall. Her sharp eyes locked onto a medium-sized brig moored at the coast.
A pirate ship. The flag was unfamiliar to Ron, but the sight told enough. A small East Blue crew, perhaps a few dozen strong.
That was her target.
Nami would never steal from civilians. The poor and downtrodden were her own kind. Her hands reached only for the corrupt nobles and the bloodstained pirates who had preyed on the weak. Risky, yes, but their treasures were rich, and her conscience clean.
Ron's gaze fell on the same ship.
But his eyes gleamed with more than thoughts of gold.
For him, that vessel was not just treasure, it was achievements waiting to be claimed.
A ship itself meant new milestones. Battles meant more. Defeated pirates meant even more.
Four days at sea had given him nearly sixty hours of meditation, pushing his Spirit to sixteen.
This ship could grant him everything: wealth, victories, a vessel of his own. If all went well, he could gather enough to reach ten Achievement Points.
That would raise his Spirit past twenty, even toward thirty.
And thirty Spirit was the true threshold. The line where second-tier magic became reality.
With second-tier magic in his hands, Arlong would no longer be untouchable. East Blue itself would become his hunting ground, its seas offering achievements to harvest at will.
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