Putin stood frozen.
His brain was flipping through a mental PowerPoint presentation titled
"My Life: A Summary of Bad Decisions," and the final slide was just a picture of a magma fist flying at his face.
He began to seriously weigh the pros and cons of his current predicament.
Option A: Be instantly vaporized by Admiral Akainu. Pros: Quick. Painless (probably). No more deadlines.
Cons: Permanent death. No air conditioning in the afterlife.
Option B: Be captured by Fleet Admiral Sengoku and sent to a military tribunal.
Pros: Live a few days longer. Cons: Likely sentenced to the death by a thousand cuts execution, or worse, thrown into Level 6 of Impel Down to play cards with Shiryu of the Rain until he rotted.
"Neither option is great," Putin whimpered, his knees knocking together like castanets.
He felt his heart stutter.
It was about to give out, preparing to follow in the footsteps of his previous life's heart and just quit without notice.
He was a marketing manager, not a warrior!
His only combat experience was fighting for the last bagel in the breakroom!
Just as his mental state teetered on the brink of total collapse—
[Ding!]
The sound was sweeter than a choir of angels singing the opening theme of One Piece.
[System Warning: Abnormal host mental fluctuations detected. Panic levels at 99%. Please remain calm. Screaming is undignified.]
[Mission Report: Detected that the host successfully maintained stall operation within the stipulated time.]
[Achievement Unlocked: "The Admiral's Distraction."]Description: You successfully distracted a Marine Admiral with MSG, causing a slight deviation in the timeline of the Summit War. You are a chaotic element.
[Newbie Guidance Task Status: Exceeded Completion! Comprehensive Evaluation: S-Grade!]
[Issuing Newbie Gift Pack... Rewards have been doubled due to S-Grade evaluation!]
[Congratulations! You have obtained:]
Miracle Version Fat Happy Soda (x2 Cases):The ultimate carbonated nectar. Guaranteed to bring joy to the darkest souls.
Miracle Small Folding Stool (x1):Sitting on this stool significantly reduces your "Presence." Enemies will subconsciously ignore you, treating you like background furniture.
Divine Megaphone (x1):Built-in mental shock effect. Sound amplification covers the entire island. Your voice will be heard by everyone, whether they want to or not.
Newbie Protection Aura:Passive Skill. Grants total immunity to ONE fatal attack from an Admiral-level entity within the next 30 minutes.
A series of holographic prompts hit Putin's retinas until he saw stars.
He stared blankly at the new golden icon on his system panel.
A warm current, like drinking hot cocoa on a snowy day, washed over his trembling body.
"Can... can block one attack?" he whispered, his voice trembling with hope.
It was a "Get Out of Death Free" card.
His courage, previously a deflated balloon, was instantly pumped full of high-pressure industrial gas.
"Just once? Just thirty minutes?" Putin muttered, his posture straightening. "That's all I need! Screw fear! Fear is for people without system cheats!"
He looked at Akainu.
The Red Dog was glaring at him with eyes that promised nothing but incineration.
The killing intent was heavy enough to crush a tank.
"He wants me dead anyway," Putin reasoned, a manic grin spreading across his face. "Since I'm doomed either way, and now I have a shield... I might as well die with some dignity! No, not dignity... PROFIT!"
He was a businessman, dammit! A capitalist! A grinder!
"I just earned one million Berries in minutes! Do you know what the annualized ROI on that is? It's astronomical!"
His eyes burned with the fire of avarice. "I need money... I need to exchange points for a safe house! I need a dimension with Wi-Fi, a bidet, and a fridge full of snacks! I will not die a broke cannon fodder!"
Putin's train of thought, stimulated by the adrenaline of survival and the dopamine of loot, veered onto a track that no sane human would follow.
His gaze fell on the inventory in his system space.
Two cases of ice-cold "Fat Happy Soda" (Cola).
That's right, he thought, cracking his knuckles. I still have inventory to move.
CRASH!
Suddenly, a noise erupted from the rubble of the distant fortress wall, interrupting the standoff.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch... That really hurt..."
The pile of debris exploded outward.
A beam of golden light shot into the air, moving awkwardly before reforming into the tall, striped-suit figure of Admiral Kizaru.
Kizaru dusted off his suit—removing non-existent dust—and touched his cheek.
There was a suspicious trace of noodle broth still lingering at the corner of his mouth.
The usual lecherous, mocking grin was gone from his face.
In its place was a dazed, dreamy expression.
The look of a man who had just experienced a spiritual awakening via carbohydrates.
"Oh yahhh..." Kizaru sighed, looking at the sky. "That was... truly delicious... The texture... the salt..."
He subconsciously licked his lips, his tongue chasing the memory of the flavor.
Slowly, his gaze drifted back to the small aluminum table.
His eyes weren't filled with anger over being kicked. They were filled with desperate, hungry longing.
He wants seconds, Putin realized.
Following Kizaru's gaze, the attention of the entire battlefield—Pirates, Marines, Shichibukai—snapped back to Putin.
Now!
Putin took a deep breath. He reached into the void of his system space.
In his left hand: An ice-cold, condensation-covered red can of "Fat Happy Soda."
In his right hand: The bright red "Divine Megaphone."
Under the watchful eyes of tens of thousands of killers, Putin raised the megaphone to his lips.
Click.
He turned the volume dial to "MAX."
Then, he hooked his finger under the tab of the soda can.
SNAP-FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
The sound was amplified a thousand times.
It wasn't just a can opening.
It was the crispest, most refreshing sound in the history of audio.
It sounded like a glacier cracking in a symphony of fizz. The sound wave rippled across the plaza, echoing off the ice walls.
Seagulls flying two miles up in the sky stopped flapping in shock and dropped into the ocean. Giants froze mid-swing.
Immediately after, Putin's voice—amplified to god-like proportions—pierced the clouds and shattered the tension.
"ICE-COLD HAPPINESS! QUENCHES THIRST AND BEATS THE HEAT!"
The voice boomed from the heavens. It didn't sound like a nervous grunt; it sounded like a radio announcer from the dimension of hype.
"BEFORE THE BIG BATTLE, GRAB A COLD ONE!"
"REFRESHES YOUR MIND! RESTORES YOUR ENERGY! IT'S THE FIZZY MIRACLE!"
Putin pointed a finger dramatically at the recovering Kizaru.
"ADMIRAL KIZARU PERSONALLY CERTIFIED! THOSE WHO DRINK IT, KNOW! JUST LOOK AT THAT SATISFIED FACE!"
"MARINE BROTHERS! SHOW YOUR UNIFORM ID FOR A 10% DISCOUNT! LIMITED STOCK! BUY NOW OR DIE THIRSTY!"
Silence.
Absolute, dumbfounded silence.
On the high execution platform, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, the man responsible for the entire strategy of the war, lost his footing.
He slipped, his boot screeching on the metal, and nearly tumbled face-first off the platform.
He grabbed the railing, his knuckles white.
He glared at the corner of the plaza, his chest heaving violently.
"Marketing...?" he choked out. "In the middle... of a WAR?!"
He had to swallow back a mouthful of blood that rushed to his throat from sheer stress.
'My blood pressure... Garp, pass me my pills.'
But Garp wasn't listening.
The Hero of the Marines was staring at the soda can with his jaw unhinged.
The half-eaten rice cracker in his hand slipped from his fingers and hit the deck.
"That... that looks refreshing," Garp muttered, betraying the cause.
Down below, the commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates stood blankly.
Jozu, the diamond man, looked like he'd been hit with a confusion spell.
Vista lowered his swords. It was as if they were looking at a deformed Sea King doing a tap dance.
Marco the Phoenix, who was hovering in the sky, forgot to flap his wings and dropped ten feet before catching himself.
"Is this... a hidden Marine tactic? Psychological warfare?"
And Kizaru?
Upon hearing "Personally Certified," Kizaru stumbled.
His leg caught on a piece of rubble, and the light-human almost fell back into the crater he just climbed out of.
"Scary..." Kizaru mumbled, adjusting his sunglasses. "This marketing strategy is... terrifying."
But there was one man who was not amused.
One man who did not want a cold soda.
Akainu.
The magma on Akainu's arms was no longer just dripping.
It was erupting.
He looked like a walking volcano that had just been insulted.
"Marine..."
Akainu spoke the word slowly, his voice sounding like grinding stones.
The ground beneath his boots melted instantly, turning into a bubbling crimson pool.
"...SCUM!"
Putin's mind went blank. The adrenaline of the sales pitch evaporated instantly.
'Wait. Is the 'Newbie Protection Aura' actually reliable?'
Akainu didn't hesitate.
He raised his right arm. It completely transformed into a massive, churning limb of molten rock.
Dark red magma boiled and popped, radiating a heat so intense that the air around him shimmered.
It was the "Great Eruption." It was the "Hellhound." It was Death.
Wow, Putin thought, detaching from reality. It's much brighter in person.
He could already envision the next three seconds: Pierced by magma. Internal organs boiled.
Instantly evaporated into a wisp of greasy smoke. A tragic end to the Grand Line's greatest entrepreneur.
Akainu lunged forward. "DIE!"
At this critical moment!
BOOM————!
An earth-shaking roar erupted, not from Akainu, but from the highest point everyone had momentarily overlooked—the execution platform!
A powerful shockwave, infused with Conqueror's Haki, swept across the arena.
It blew away the smoke, the dust, and the tension.
Everyone's movements halted involuntarily.
Even Akainu froze mid-punch, his magma fist hovering inches from Putin's terrified, sweating face.
The crowd looked up.
In the dissipating dust, half of the execution platform had collapsed into ruins.
Standing atop the wreckage, flames raging behind him like wings, was Fire Fist Ace.
He was free.
The Seastone handcuffs lay broken on the ground.
And beside him?
A small, thin figure wearing a signature straw hat.
He was grinning with a foolish, fearless smile that shone brighter than Kizaru's lasers.
Straw Hat Luffy!
Behind him, a bizarre collection of legends descended from the sky.
Jinbe the Knight of the Sea. Emporio Ivankov the Miracle Person. Sir Crocodile.
The escapees of Impel Down had arrived, crashing into the heart of Marine Headquarters like divine reinforcements!
"ACE————!!"
Luffy's voice was clear, childish, and powerful.
It echoed across the battlefield, drowning out even the memory of the megaphone.
"LUFFY!!"
Ace looked at his younger brother, tears welling in his eyes, flames dancing on his shoulders.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
The comedy was over; the drama had returned.
The entire battlefield's focus snapped away from the weirdo selling soda in the corner and locked onto the reunited brothers.
"Straw Hat Luffy..."
Fleet Admiral Sengoku regained his balance, his face turning a grim shade of grey.
The vein on his forehead throbbed.
"Dragon the Revolutionary's son... He actually did it! He broke the encirclement!"
Akainu slowly lowered his magma arm.
The heat radiating from him didn't decrease, but his target changed.
His burning eyes of rage shifted from Putin to Luffy and Ace.
One was the "Most Evil Bloodline," the biological son of Pirate King Roger.
The other was the "Most Dangerous Spark," the son of Dragon the Revolutionary.
In Akainu's rigid, absolute justice calculus, the math was simple.
Putin was an annoyance.
A disgrace. A stain on the uniform. But ultimately? He was a small fry.
A bug.
But those two brothers? They were an existential threat.
If they escaped, they would burn the World Government to the ground.
They posed a threat ten thousand times more serious than some insane idiot selling snacks.
Akainu's eyes narrowed.
'The trolley problem of Justice', Akainu thought. 'Kill the salesman, or kill the future Pirate King?'
"They cannot be allowed to escape," Akainu growled, turning his back on Putin. "Absolute Justice demands their heads."
Putin, still holding the soda can, let out a breath he had been holding for forty-five seconds.
'I... I'm alive?'