The moon hung low over Foosha Village, pale and distorted like it was trying to reflect the chaos that had unfolded hours ago.
Ravian sat alone on a cliff edge, knees pulled up, watching the last embers of Shanks' ship fade into the horizon. The sea breeze tugged at his hair, but his mind was miles away—locked on the moment Shanks stared down a Sea King with nothing but willpower.
His heart still wasn't beating right.
"…Holy crap," he whispered, fingers trembling. "That was real."
DING.
The metallic voice rang out again—calmer this time, like it was waking up from a long nap.
[Synchronization Increased]
[Current Sync: 1.4%]
[Limit Breaker Template: Initial Stabilization Complete]
Ravian blinked.
(…It's still climbing? For what? I literally just stood there the whole time.)
But the system didn't bother explaining itself. It felt more like a silent observer than some tutorial AI.
Ravian rubbed his face.
"Alright… if this world plays by story logic, then I need to stay alive long enough to figure out how not to die like an extra."
He stood, brushing sand from his clothes—
—and froze.
Leaves rustled behind him.
Ravian spun around instinctively, body tense.
A girl stood there. Small, maybe eight or nine, with messy dark hair and eyes too sharp for her age. She clutched a fishing rod like a weapon more than a tool.
"...Uh." Ravian pointed at himself. "Sup?"
The girl narrowed her eyes.
"You're not from the village."
Her voice was flat. Suspicious. Brutally honest in the way only children and drunks mastered.
Ravian swallowed dryly.
Crap.
This was a new character—someone who definitely wasn't in canon.
(Okay… think. I can't drop my name, but I also can't look like a threat.)
He forced a small smile. "I just washed up on the beach. Lost my… uh… boat."
She stared. No blinking. Zero mercy.
"You don't smell like a fisherman."
"What does a fisherman smell like?"
"Fish."
"…Fair."
The girl stepped closer, inspecting him like she was checking if he was edible.
Then she sighed.
"You look pathetic. Come on."
She turned and walked into the woods like she expected him to follow.
Ravian blinked.
"What—? Where are you taking me?!"
"To Grandma Nari," she replied without turning around. "She's good at fixing strays."
"…I'm not a stray."
"You washed up on the sand like driftwood. You're a stray."
Ravian opened his mouth—closed it—then followed her anyway because honestly, what other options did he have?
As they walked, the system chimed again.
[New Character Detected]
[Assigning Identity…]
[Name Generated: MIRA]
[Role: Local NPC | Variable Importance]
Ravian nearly tripped.
(Variable importance? That sounds dangerous… Why is she variable?! Npc's aren't supposed to have dynamic tags!)
He glanced at Mira, who was now humming some tune while skipping over roots.
She seemed harmless.
Which, in this world, meant she was probably a walking disaster waiting to happen.
The path opened up into a small clearing. A tiny wooden hut sat under an old banyan tree, its windows glowing warm gold.
Mira shoved the door open.
"Grandma! I brought another one!"
"'Another one'?!" Ravian repeated, voice cracking.
An elderly woman turned from the stove, white hair braided neatly and eyes glowing with both kindness and the kind of wisdom that made you feel immediately judged.
She smiled warmly. "My, my… you do have a talent for dragging home trouble, Mira."
Mira pointed at Ravian. "He's extra trouble. He smells weird."
Ravian lifted a hand. "I swear I'm normal—"
DING.
[Ambient Threat Level Changing]
[New Event Approaching: Minor Hostile Encounter]
Ravian froze.
Grandma Nari paused, eyebrow twitching. "Mira."
"Yeah?"
"…Did you bring wolves again?"
The girl looked offended. "No! They followed me."
Ravian's stomach dropped.
(Wolves… in East Blue…? Why is this turning into a side quest—?!)
A low growl echoed outside.
Multiple growls.
Grandma Nari sighed, rolling up her sleeves. "Ravian, was it? Be a dear and fetch the broom by the door."
"Why the broom?!"
"It hits harder than it looks."
Another growl.
Ravian grabbed the broom instantly.
(I swear if I die because of a broom tutorial quest—)
The door burst open.
Three wolves lunged.
Ravian swung on instinct—pure panic, zero technique.
THWACK.
One wolf flew back like it got hit by a truck, crashing into a stack of firewood.
Ravian froze mid-swing.
"…The hell?"
[Basic Combat Instinct Activated]
[Synchronization: 1.7%]
His body felt lighter. Faster. Sharper.
The second wolf leapt—
Ravian sidestepped without thinking and smacked it sideways.
Mira whooped. "YOOOO! He's cracked!"
Grandma Nari tied her apron like she was prepping for war.
The third wolf hesitated—then bolted.
Silence.
Ravian lowered the broom, panting hard.
"…Did I just beat up wildlife with a cleaning tool?"
Grandma Nari nodded proudly. "A fine broom warrior."
Mira grinned at him like he'd just earned XP in her personal game.
The system chimed again.
[Combat Assessment Complete]
[User Potential: Above Standard]
[New Quest Available]
[Quest: Establish Your Path]
[Reward: Skill Selection Menu Unlocked]
Ravian stared at the glowing screen.
"…Skill selection?"
Suddenly the world felt bigger.
Wider.
Full of a thousand directions he could run.
Mira tugged on his sleeve. "Hey. If you're staying here for a bit… you gotta help with chores."
Ravian blinked.
"…Chores?"
"Yeah. Like chopping wood."
He pointed at himself. "But I literally fought wolves just now—"
"That was warm-up."
Ravian muttered under his breath.
"So help me god… East Blue is ridiculous."
The system pulsed softly.
And Ravian realized—
This was the first step.
Not as a spectator.
Not as a powerless extra.
But as someone being written into the story.
And this world had already decided he wasn't here to sit quietly.