The year was 1493.
Grand Line, Isnd of Jaya
Dawn paihe sky. A gentle sea breeze swept across the isnd, carrying the salty tang of the o. The sued the horizon, its golden rays pierg the fading darkness, stretg out in every dire. The isnd began to stir.
Waves crashed against the golden sands, their rhythmic roar a terpoint to the cries of seagulls weling the new day.
he shore sat a modest vilge, led beside jagged, sea-battered rocks that jutted out from the isnd's edge.
In one of the rger rocks, nature had carved a shallow cave, barely rge enough for one person. This is where a young boy had been sound asleep.
He was no older than thirteen.
The seagulls' cries were insistent. They finally roused him.
"M already..." Arthur mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
He rubbed his eyes, yawned widely, and tossed aside the makeshift b fashioned from animal hide. Stretg nguidly, he crawled out of the cramped cave and stood on the smooth, sun-warmed rock.
Arthur was a striking d, with sharp, handsome features, jet-bck hair, and eyes the color of midnight. Yet, his appearance was marred by tattered clothes, dirty from long wear, a testament to his harsh life.
Sunlight, sand, and surf—a se to inspire a poet. But Arthur found no joy in the picturesque view. This wasn't the world he beloo.
Have you ever seen fish the size of a house, capable of swallowing a ship whole? Or beasts in the forest that towered over buildings?
Behind him, the sea mist swirled. tless pirate ships moved across the water, their silhouettes barely visible.
This wash. This was the world of—One Piece.
It was Jaya, an isnd in the first half of the Grand Line—a wless pce beyond the reach of the Marines, a haven for outws, pirates, and bounty hunters.
...
The thirteen-year-old was Arthur, Seabury D. Arthur. He was not of this world.
Before, ba his old life, he'd been a solitary soul, a bachelor for over two decades. No house, no car, no girlfriend. He was a man with nothing.
After graduating from uy, he'd taken up welding, figuring it ractical skill that would at least keep him fed.
Life had bee. He earned enough to get by, with a little extra for weekend drinks. He would da the local bars.
Then, one day, it happened. A faulty e in his welding equipme a jolt of electricity through him, ending his life in an instant.
He awoke, surrounded by bess, filled with a single man's lingeriment. He found himself in a new world, and in a new body – that of a-year-old boy.
The boy was the desdant of a mert family of some renown, with a trade route spanning from the Grand Lio the West Blue, navigatiween the Wover and the pirate fas.
The thrill of it helped Arthur quickly adapt. He was in the world of his favorite manga, One Piece.
He was now a member of the "D" —the "Natural Enemy of God." Excitement surged through him, banishing sleep for three days. He dreamt of fighting the stro Marines, of kig the Yonko off their thrones.
But his fantasies were short-lived. The uable weather of the Grand Line, coupled with the inpetence of the ship's navigator, delivered a harsh dose of reality.
A torrential downpour and monstrous waves had struck. They smashed the mert vessel, sending it and most of its crew to a watery grave.
ging to a piece of shattered deck, Arthur drifted for days. He finally washed ashore on Jaya.
As a newer, he was met with suspi. Isnders were hostile to him. He found refuge in the sea cave, surviving by sging for shellfish, fishing, aing small traps in the forest.
This harsh existence had tinued for five long years.
...
Arthur sighed, staring out at the boundless o, lost in thought. Then, he began his daily training.
In the world of One Piece, power was everything. You could live without authority, without a single Beli to your name. But you could not live freely without strength.
Only the strong could carve their own path. The weak lived in stant fear, never knowing if they would see the sun rise again.
His training regimen was simple: Push-ups tthen his Arms and Core, frog jumps and squats to build leg power, a training to enhance his overall physique.
He dropped to the ground, his hands a finding their positions. A rge rock ced on his back, addi. He began his push-ups.
"Owo, three, four..."
With each repetition, he focused on his breathing, striving for a steady rhythm.
In this strange world, human limits were pushed. Effort yielded results. The food here acked with energy.
This was a world of Great Swordsmen, men who could cleave isnds in half with a single swing. Powerful warriors could unleash shockwaves with their fists, shatter ships with a kick.
"One hundred and y-eight, one hundred and y-wo hundred..."
Sweat dripped from Arthur's brow, falling onto the sand. Two hundred push-ups with added weight was hard, especially for a thirteen-year-old.
An ordinary person would be gasping for air, muscles screaming in protest. But Arthur's breathing was only slightly heavier. His limbs were still steady.
Mier, he reached five hundred. His arms finally gave out. The rock tumbled to the ground as he colpsed onto the sand, panting.
Brushing the sand from his tattered clothes, he stood up. His exhausted body had already recovered. His breathiuro normal, as if he hadn't just undergoeion.
He attributed this incredible recovery to a perk from his transmigration. Who else could recover from such a workout so fast?
After push-ups, Arthur moved on t jumps, hands csped behind his head. This further developed his leg muscles.
An hour ter, he stopped, drenched i. He sat down, enjoying the gentle sea breeze as he pted his future.
