Pale golden Flame Clouds gradually dissipated beneath the dragon claws as peach-colored Scales receded like tidewater, revealing Ryan's original form.
He landed on the coastal reef rocks. The three-day-and-night flight had left only a faint trace of exhaustion in his eyes. The formidable physical prowess granted by the Artificial Dragon Fruit made this long journey feel as effortless as an ordinary stroll.
He was no longer the weakling from two years ago who would tremble at the slightest exertion. Now, his stamina was so abundant he felt like he could punch through the shoreline rocks with a single blow.
Even his bones radiated a subtle warmth—the comforting heat of the Fruit's power coursing through his veins, the restless vitality unleashed after breaking free from constraints.
Tugging at his collar, swollen from the sea breeze, Ryan lifted his gaze to the town ahead. A wooden suspension bridge spanned the shallow waters, with several fishing boats moored along the shore.
It should have been a serene coastal scene, yet an eerie atmosphere pervaded everything—roofs of tilted houses gaped with broken holes, drying fishing nets hung in tatters on wooden stakes, and even the village nameplate at the entrance was split by a vicious crack.
"Raided by pirates?" Ryan frowned, his tone carrying a casual assessment.
He was no longer that naive boy harboring unrealistic fantasies. During his two years on the Floating Island, squeezed between chains and chemical concoctions, he had long seen through this world's true nature.
Beneath the pirate flags, there was no room for reason—only the law of the jungle where the strong preyed on the weak. Weakness was the original sin, and compliance was merely self-delusion for lambs awaiting slaughter.
Just like this seemingly tranquil coastal village before him—perhaps warm lights still glowed last night, but by morning, it could have been thrown into chaos by some passing pirate crew.
Ryan withdrew his gaze and continued toward the town. As he stepped onto the center of the suspension bridge, a gentle woman's voice drifted from a side alley: "Excuse me... are you a traveler from afar?"
Ryan turned to see a woman standing in the alley's shadows. Neat blue hair fluttered in the sea breeze, accentuating her wheat-toned skin. A cotton wrap dress hugged her slender waist, revealing toned calf muscles beneath the hem.
Despite her simple attire, her movements carried an indescribable elegance—a resilience tempered by wilderness, yet imbued with an undeniable gentleness.
Ryan's pupils constricted sharply—this face, wasn't she Nami's sister, Nojiko!
Why would he encounter her here?
Startled, he stared at Nojiko and asked, "Is this... Cocoyasi Village?"
Nojiko clearly didn't expect the stranger to suddenly inquire about the village name. After a pause, she nodded, a flicker of wariness in her blue-gray eyes: "Aren't you an outsider? How could you not know the village name?"
Ryan didn't answer immediately, feeling momentarily disoriented.
Having chosen revenge, he had naturally planned ahead—the Floating Island hovered ten thousand meters high, drifting unpredictably with air currents, never settling. Before taking action, he knew the island was approaching the East Blue waters.
He just never expected that after three days and nights of flying, he would actually arrive at Cocoyasi Village!
Noticing his shifting expression, Nojiko subtly retreated half a step, her hand resting on the short knife at her waist.
It was an ordinary, well-polished curved blade, the scabbard still smudged with soil—clearly not meant for combat, but more like a farming tool repurposed for self-defense.
"Who are you really? What brings you here?"
Ryan took a deep breath, his gaze settling on Nojiko. His blue-gray eyes shimmered like seawater-soaked glass in the faint light at the alley's entrance. The lines of her fitted dress swayed gently with her breathing, and even the strands of hair lifted by the sea breeze carried a vibrant liveliness.
A faint smile suddenly tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes revealing an appreciation that was both frank and unrestrained: "Just a passing traveler."
Ryan was no born fighter—just an ordinary man tossed into hell by fate who'd clawed his way out. Now that he'd shed the ferocious mask forced upon him, even his smile carried a relaxed sincerity.
The sea wind suddenly strengthened, making the suspension bridge creak. Nojiko's blue short hair pressed against her cheeks as she studied the long sword wrapped in dark purple cloth at Ryan's waist, then the tranquility in his eyes that seemed at odds with his demeanor. The confusion in her gaze deepened.
There was a strange contradiction about this man—like a beast fresh from the battlefield, yet when he smiled, he carried the gentleness of an ordinary person.
"A traveler?" Nojiko raised an eyebrow, though her hand subtly shifted away from her sword hilt. "Not many travelers come to Cocoyashi Village at this time."
Ryan shrugged, a hint of self-mockery in his tone: "Guess I've got bad luck. Even flying blind, I managed to crash into this sea."
He deliberately omitted the part about his dragon form, making it sound like an ordinary sailing accident: "Just wanted to find a place to rest, but this village doesn't seem very peaceful?"
"The village has been unsettled lately," Nojiko's voice softened slightly, though she maintained a safe distance. "If you need lodging, I can take you to see the village chief."
Ryan smiled, his tone as natural as chatting with a neighbor: "Then I'll trouble you, beautiful."
The human warmth that had been worn away on the Floating Island was gradually returning to him. He wasn't some monster or avenger—just an "ordinary person" who could finally speak his mind and walk at his own pace.
This relaxed feeling... turned out to be so liberating.
Nojiko didn't respond, simply turning to walk deeper into the alley. After a few steps, she glanced back at him, signaling him to follow. "This way."
Ryan immediately fell in step, casually resting his hands behind his head, his pace as light as if he were strolling through a market.
His gaze lingered with interest on Nojiko's retreating figure—the fitted dress outlining fluid curves with her movement, her blue short hair catching glints of sunlight, even the way her skirt brushed against her ankles as she walked carried an indescribable crisp efficiency.
Quite the view.
"That sword... doesn't look like something a traveler should carry." Nojiko's voice came from ahead, her eyes inadvertently sweeping over the Wind Splitter at his waist.
Ryan glanced down at the dark purple cloth strips swaying in the sea breeze around the scabbard and smiled. "When you're out traveling, you can never be too careful."
The words held practical wisdom, the kind of caution anyone making their way on the seas would understand. Nojiko hummed in acknowledgment but didn't press further, merely quickening her pace slightly.
Ryan maintained his casual posture, hands behind his head, following at a leisurely pace, his appreciative gaze entirely unconcealed.
During his two years on the Floating Island, he'd grown accustomed to cold chains and ferocious faces. Now, watching this vibrant figure before him and listening to the rustle of wind through orange leaves in the alley felt like rediscovering life itself.
Suddenly, I felt that this "Weakest Sea" was far more comfortable than those so-called strongholds of the powerful.