The salty wind of Sixis Island, a relentless tormentor, whipped around Klien. Jagged cliffs plunged into chaotic currents, a natural barrier that had claimed many who dared to seek escape. Until now, Klien had been a solitary figure against this harsh landscape. But two days had wrought a strange transformation, gifting him not solitude, but an unlikely alliance.

  Portgas D. Ace, a young man whose grin seemed as untamed as the island itself, and Deuce, a silent sentinel hidden behind a mask, had become his partners. Their shared endeavor: a precarious raft, cobbled together from the skeletal remains of shipwrecks and wayward driftwood. And Klien? He was their provider, their chef. More importantly, he harbored a plan, a flicker of hope in their desperate situation.

  Dawn painted the sky in hues of bruised purple and reluctant gold. Klien was already awake, his eyes scanning the meager vegetation for the last vestiges of sustenance. The island offered little, and every edible leaf and stray berry was a precious commodity. Over a crackling fire pit, he coaxed a simple stew to life – a scant offering of scavenged meat, tough roots, and foraged herbs. It was a meager meal, but enough, he hoped, to fuel their final push.

  The aroma, thin yet promising, drifted through the sparse trees. Ace, drawn by the scent, sauntered over, his characteristic grin splitting his freckled face. “Man, you’re a lifesaver, Klien. Once we get off this rock, I swear, I’m never eating raw seagull again.”

  Klien snorted, a puff of amusement. “Good. ‘Cause if you do, don’t ask me to cook it.”

  A subtle warmth spread through him.

  [EXP +40]

  [EXP: 200/200]

  [Level Up!]

  You have gained 2 attribute points.

  A soft luminescence briefly veiled his vision. Almost instinctively, Klien accessed his Status Window.

  [Status Window]

  Level: 3

  EXP: 0/300

  HP: 1/1

  Attributes:

  Strength: 6

  Agility: 5

  Intelligence: 6

  Unallocated Points: 2

  A moment of consideration. Then, with a mental command, he directed the newfound points.

  [Intelligence: 8]

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  If cooking was his path, then sharper senses, a deeper understanding of ingredients, and accelerated skill acquisition were paramount.

  Still the fragile 1 HP. Still the clean slate of zero bounty.

  He sighed, the sound barely audible above the crackling fire. “I need to get a bounty soon, or a papercut might actually kill me.”

  The meager breakfast consumed, they gathered around their handiwork. The raft was a testament to their desperation – vines lashing together mismatched pieces of driftwood, a tattered fragment of sailcloth offering a pathetic hope of propulsion. Deuce, his expression hidden behind his mask, shook his head.

  “The currents’ll tear this thing apart in minutes.” His voice, when he spoke, was low and even.

  Klien’s own assessment mirrored Deuce’s grim pronouncement. The swirling vortexes that guarded Sixis were legendary, a natural prison designed to crush any attempt at escape.

  But Ace simply grinned, the morning light catching the excitement in his dark eyes. “Good thing we’ve got me.”

  He stepped onto the unstable platform and raised a hand. With a suddenness that stole Klien’s breath, a swirl of vibrant orange flame erupted from his palm. The fire danced and coiled, wrapping itself around the raft’s crude edges. The wood glowed with intense heat, yet remained untouched by the destructive power of the flames. Ace’s control was unnerving in its precision.

  “What the hell?” Klien’s jaw dropped, his carefully constructed composure shattering.

  Deuce crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Ace’s display. “You never asked what his power was, huh?”

  “I—I just thought he was some reckless idiot,” Klien stammered, his mind reeling.

  “Still is,” Deuce muttered, though a hint of something that might have been amusement flickered in his unseen eyes.

  Ace laughed, the flames licking playfully along his fingers. “Flame-Flame Fruit. Logia type. I’m basically fire itself.” He punctuated his statement with a stamp of his foot, sending a surge of heat through the makeshift vessel. The vines visibly hardened, the disparate pieces of wood fusing together, becoming a surprisingly sturdy whole.

  “This’ll reinforce it. And better yet – we can ride the currents now.” With another focused burst of energy, Ace unleashed a wave of heat, creating a powerful gust of wind that gathered behind them, an invisible sail of pure energy.

  A slow grin spread across Klien’s face. This… this was the kind of audacious, borderline insane display that painted a target on your back. The kind of madness that inevitably led to a bounty.

  By midday, their improbable vessel was as ready as it ever would be. Klien meticulously secured their remaining supplies – the carefully dried herbs, the roasted scraps of meat, the few remaining cooked roots – everything he could carry, a meager insurance against the uncertainties ahead.

  Ace, radiating restless energy, raised a triumphant fist. “Alright, let’s sail outta here! Time to make a name for ourselves!”

  Klien chuckled, a genuine sound of burgeoning hope. “And get me a bounty while you’re at it.”

  They pushed off from the shore. The raft bucked violently in the turbulent waters, a testament to the raw power of Sixis’s embrace. But Ace’s fiery wind held them steady, propelling them forward with surprising speed, allowing them to navigate the treacherous currents that had doomed so many before them.

  As they sailed away, the desolate silhouette of Sixis Island shrinking on the horizon, Klien cast one last glance back. The island had been a near-fatal cage. But it had also been the unlikely crucible for this strange, new beginning.

  Night draped the sea in velvet, the stars above a silent, glittering audience to their improbable journey. Ace leaned against their makeshift mast, arms slung behind his head, a picture of carefree confidence. “When we reach a town, we’ll find a real ship, real trouble, and real Marines.”

  Deuce sat quietly nearby, the faint light of a lantern illuminating the pages of a tattered book, his silence a constant presence.

  Klien stirred the last of their stew in its pot, the simple act a comforting ritual. The salty wind carried the scent of the sea and the flickering flame, the vast, unknown horizon stretching before them – a sense of anticipation, sharp and exhilarating, filled him.

  He glanced at his Status Window, the familiar numbers a stark reminder of his precarious existence.

  [Level: 3 | EXP: 20/300]

  Still the same fragile 1 HP. Still the frustratingly clean slate of zero bounty.

  But he was alive. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he wasn’t alone. He had a crew, however unconventional.

  Sooner or later, word would spread. Whispers of a reckless Logia user who commanded fire, his enigmatic, masked partner, and the resourceful chef who somehow kept them fed.

  And when those whispers reached the right ears, the bounties would follow.

  Klien smiled into the firelight, the warmth mirroring the burgeoning hope in his chest. He was finally on the move. The world, for all its dangers, awaited.