"Damn thing just won't go away."
Smoker gritted his teeth around his cigars, flexing his fist as he stormed through the bustling streets of Loguetown. His eyes narrowed in irritation as he glanced at the translucent text hovering persistently before him, flickering annoyingly in and out of his vision.
[Congratulations, Smoker! You have been invited to join The System.]
[Do you accept?]
[Y/N]
Whatever this "System" was, Smoker had no idea. He'd seen plenty of strange things in his line of work—Devil Fruits, Sea Kings, the Grand Line's bizarre weather—but a floating message? That was a first.
He didn't have time for distractions. Loguetown was spiraling into chaos. New reports had come in just this morning about a masked vigilante tearing through the underworld, picking off criminals one by one. Rumors claimed it was the same masked man seen before the ship disappeared—a man presumed dead.
Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he forced himself to refocus on the task. If this vigilante was indeed the same person, it meant he was far more dangerous than anyone had anticipated. Worse, it suggested he wasn't acting alone.
"I want every inch of this city searched," he'd told his men earlier. "Find the man in the gas mask and don't let him slip through."
But the investigation was proving to be tougher than expected. Every lead seemed to evaporate into thin air—just like the ship.
[Do you accept?]
[Y/N]
The words floated in front of his face again, breaking his concentration. He scowled, swiping at them in frustration, but they remained fixed, taunting him. His patience was wearing thin.
"Captain," Tashigi called, jogging up to him. "We've had more reports of the masked man. Apparently, he's been targeting more thugs, taking them out, and disappearing just as quickly." She handed him the report.
Smoker's eyebrow twitched. He'd expected something like this. Whoever this masked figure was, he wasn't just some bystander. The chaos in the underworld suggested that this person was a serious threat.
"Did anyone see his face?" Smoker asked, voice taut with frustration.
"No, sir. All they know is he's wearing a gray coat and an gas mask. He's been hitting targets all trough the night, and no one's gotten close enough to identify him." Tashigi handed over the report.
Smoker took it, glancing at the words briefly. He already knew what it would say—more speculation, no hard facts. Whoever this masked figure was, he was like a phantom. And phantoms didn't leave trails.
"I want eyes on every corner of this city," he ordered sharply. "If this guy is behind the ship's disappearance, we'll find him. And when we do, I'll be the one asking the questions."
Tashigi nodded and turned to relay his orders, but Smoker's mind drifted back to the flickering message that had been haunting him all day.
[Congratulations, Smoker! You have been invited to join The System.]
[Do you accept?]
[Y/N]
He'd ignored it as long as he could, but it wasn't going away. What the hell was this "System"? And why was it targeting him? It didn't feel like some Devil Fruit trick or hallucination—though he almost wished it were. Whatever it was, it was persistent.
He muttered the word under his breath, testing it. "System." In a general sense, he knew what a system was, but this felt like something else entirely. What kind of 'system' needed invitations? And how had it found him?
His first instinct was to reject it. He wasn't one for games or tricks, and this thing reeked of both. But he also knew he wasn't going to shake it. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the words remained, waiting for his response.
[Do you accept?]
[Y/N]
He hesitated, irritation flaring. What would happen if he accepted? Could it be a trap—maybe a diversion set by the masked man?
"Only one way to find out," he muttered, a growl of frustration in his voice. "Fine. I accept."
The words blinked out of existence, vanishing as abruptly as they had appeared. For a moment, everything was still, and Smoker almost believed the whole thing had been some kind of bizarre daydream.
Then, the world seemed to shift around him, subtly but unmistakably. Whatever this "System" was, it wasn't gone. It was just beginning.
A faint shimmer appeared in his vision again, but this time, it was different.
[Welcome, Smoker, to The System.]
The words felt intrusive, like a whisper inside his mind. He didn't like it, but there was no denying something had changed. As much as he wanted to dismiss it, his gut told him that this was significant. And Smoker always trusted his gut.
[The System will provide you with quests tailored to your current situation and desires. Rewards will be granted based on successful completion.]
Quests? Smoker frowned. He wasn't a kid playing games—he was a Marine Captain with a mission. But something about it piqued his curiosity.
Another message flashed before his eyes:
[First Quest: Capture the Gas Mask Vigilante]
Objective: Track down and capture the masked man responsible for the recent underworld attacks and the disappearance of the pirate ship.
Time Limit: 12 days
Reward: Armament Haki (Beginner)
Smoker's eyebrows shot up. The mention of Haki alone made him pause. He'd heard of it—a rare power, ancient and potent. Armament Haki was capable of coating a user in invisible armor strong enough to counter even Devil Fruit users.
For someone like Smoker, the potential to combine Haki with his existing powers was... intriguing. Dangerous, even. This System was offering him a chance to unlock that kind of strength—a temptation he couldn't ignore.
But why him? And what did this "System" want in return?
Smoker clenched his jaw, his natural skepticism warring with the promise of power. Whatever game this System was playing, it was offering a reward he couldn't overlook.
As much as he disliked the thought, he had to admit he was intrigued. Smoker prided himself on his strength, and any chance to become stronger was hard to resist.
The fact that the System knew about the gas mask-wearing man and the missing ship meant it had access to information. And if it had information, maybe it could be useful.
"Fine," he muttered to himself. "I'll play along—for now."
He didn't need anyone or anything telling him what his mission was. He was already after the masked man. But if this thing could help him get his hands on him faster, so be it.
Another message flickered before his eyes:
[Quest Activated]
Smoker's fists clenched. If the System thought it was calling the shots, it had another thing coming. He wasn't a man to take orders lightly. But if this helped him restore order in Loguetown, he'd use it.
He turned on his heel, eyes scanning the crowded streets. The man in the gas mask might have eluded the underworld, but Smoker knew this town better than anyone. He'd find him—and when he did, no amount of tricks would keep him from justice.
Without another word, he set off, ready to track down his target.
———
The streets of Loguetown were alive with energy, buzzing with merchants, locals, and travelers alike. The town square was plastered with flyers announcing the grand tournament, and the word on everyone's lips was the same: Vice Admiral Hiroshi was backing the event. Even if the man himself was unaware of the rumors, the townspeople were more than happy to let the gossip spread.
It wasn't just a local contest anymore. With a marine of Hiroshi's rank supposedly watching, fighters from all over were eager to prove themselves—and the rewards this year were more eye-catching than ever before. Crowds gathered around the registration tables, eyeing the posters detailing the prizes: money, prestige, and even a free upgrade to the top three ships courtesy of the local shipwrights. For some, it was the perfect opportunity to rise in both strength and status.
Among those signing up for the tournament was Fullbody, the flamboyant marine lieutenant known for his theatrical flair. With a confident grin, he admired the flyer, particularly the offer to upgrade the top three ships. "Now that," he muttered to himself, "is exactly what I need." The money was just a bonus, but the prestige, the recognition, and that ship upgrade—those were the real prizes. He flexed his muscles, eager to show everyone how much he'd improved since the last tournament.
At another corner of the square, Tashigi studied the sign-up list with quiet determination. Her goal wasn't the money or the prestige—no, she had her eyes on something far more valuable. Among the rewards listed were two legendary swords: Sandai Kitetsu and Yubashiri. According to the merchants, one lucky member had stumbled upon this treasure trove in the city's outskirts, and Tashigi wasn't about to let anyone else claim them. "Those blades belong in the hands of a swordsman who respects them," she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on her own sword. This tournament wasn't just a competition—it was her chance to secure those blades.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the bustling square, Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine stood quietly, watching the crowds. They had little interest in the glory or prestige that the tournament offered. No, they were here for something else entirely—the prizes and potential recruits for Baroque Works. "This'll be fun," Miss Valentine said with a playful smirk. "Let's see who stands out."
In another part of the square, the towering figure of Kuroobi stood out even among the crowds. The Fish-Man Karate master wasn't here for petty fame or fortune. He decided to prove the superiority of the Fish-Men. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the list of competitors. No human would leave this tournament thinking they were stronger. Kuroobi would ensure that, he had a new junior to impress after all. The prizes were a secondary bonus for him—what mattered most was sending a message.
Commander All-Hunt Grount stood tall, exuding confidence. The tournament's allure was undeniable, and Grount had been the first to apply. He wasn't here for the prizes—he was here to prove his strength. He'd fought countless battles, but this tournament was a chance to show the marines—and everyone else—what he was truly capable of. His gaze swept over the crowd, already sizing up potential opponents.
Behind him, Lieutenant Hibari hesitated for a moment as she signed her name on the participant list. She had heard of the tournament's reputation, and although it wasn't normally something she would get involved in, the thought of her fellow marines participating concerned her. She couldn't let them go in without backup. "If they're doing this, I might as well too," she said to herself, hoping to keep an eye on the others—and keep them out of trouble.
Meanwhile, Yosaku and Johnny hurried through the streets, their eyes wide with anticipation. "Do you think we'll make it in time?" Yosaku asked, glancing at his partner.
"I sure hope so," Johnny replied, adjusting his headband. "Zoro might be in there already. We can't miss this!"
———
Sweat poured down the back of the pirate as he trudged through the crowded streets of Loguetown, a boat slung over his and 5 other's shoulders like it weighed nothing. His muscles screamed in protest, but his fear of the man sleeping peacefully inside the boat kept him moving. He could feel the stares from the townsfolk—wide-eyed and bewildered—but none of them dared get in his way.
On the boat, nestled against one side with his arms folded, Roronoa Zoro snored away, a large snoot bubble inflating and deflating from his nose. The pirate could almost feel the weight of the swords strapped to Zoro's waist, but it was the dirty cloth bag lying next to him that made his skin crawl. Inside was the head of their former captain.
The pirate shuddered at the memory of how this nightmare had started.
It had all seemed normal—just another day in their pirate crew, looking for ways to make a quick berry. Their captain, a proud man with an 8-million-berry bounty, was never one to back down from a challenge. That all changed when Zoro appeared, out of nowhere, boarding their ship with a single demand: "Take me to the tournament."
Their captain had laughed, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. "Who the hell do you think you are, barging onto my ship with orders?"
But before anyone could blink, Zoro's blade had flashed, and their captain's head was rolling across the deck. The rest of the crew had frozen, terrified as Zoro turned his gaze on them.
"Any other opinions?" he had asked, his tone casual, as if the decapitation had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
None of them had answered. What could they say?
Zoro had then plopped down in one of their emergency boats, tied his swords to his waist, and immediately fallen asleep. His only words after that? "Wake me up when we get there, and if anyone tries anything funny... you'll end up like him."
And so here they were, carrying the damn boat through the streets of Loguetown like a bunch of porters, terrified of the sleeping monster on board. The second-in-command had tried to take his chance back at sea, sneaking up on Zoro while he slept. But one failed shot later, the second-in-command had been sliced clean in half in a single motion—Zoro hadn't even opened his eyes.
The pirate adjusted the boat's weight on his shoulder, grimacing as he passed curious bystanders. "Just get us to the registration," he muttered under his breath, his fear keeping his legs moving despite the fatigue.
As they neared the area where the tournament registration was taking place, the pirate heard Zoro's snoot bubble pop. The swordsman blinked groggily, lazily stretched his arms, and then jumped off the boat in one smooth motion. The pirate froze, his breath catching in his throat. Was this it? Was their ordeal finally over?
Zoro slung his swords back to his waist, along with the bag carrying their captain's head—along with the head of the second-in-command—and turned to the pirate, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks for bringing me here," Zoro said, his voice casual. "But you should have woken me up when we hit port."
The pirate just nodded, too exhausted and terrified to respond. Then, without a second glance, Zoro turned and started walking... in the completely wrong direction.
The pirate watched, sweat dropping from his brow as he realized Zoro had no idea where he was going. The rest of the pirates stood frozen, gawking at the scene, while the bystanders exchanged bewildered glances.
The pirate sighed, too tired to care anymore. "At least he's someone else's problem now."
———
Charlie stepped out into the bustling streets of Loguetown, still groggy from the half-day of sleep he needed after a night spent terrorizing the local underworld. The savory aroma of grilling meat wafted through the air, immediately drawing him in. Following his nose, he found a small but bustling restaurant with a line stretching out the door—a good sign.
Inside, the clatter of plates and lively chatter filled the space. Finding an empty table by the window, Charlie sat down, relishing the slower pace after a chaotic night. The clamor around him felt comforting, a stark contrast to the violence he had experienced. With his Inventory fuller than before, he had plans to trade for a few useful things. However, he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment; the steep exchange rate coupled with the new restrictions he discovered yesterday left him frustrated.
"What's with this limit for active missions anyway?"
[As a system add-on, I am not privy to the inner workings of other systems. Like you, I can only figure them out as you use them. Currently, the limit for active quests is five. However, two slots are already taken.]
Charlie's brow furrowed. "Great. So you telling me I shafted myself," Charlie grumbled under his breath, "You should have told me this before I decided on that you know." a mix of irritation and disbelief coloring his voice.
[We could always be more careful in the future] Oracle offered.
Instead of answering to that, Charlie raised his hand to signal the waiter, who quickly arrived. "I'll take whatever you recommend," He said, settling into his seat. "Surprise me."
The waiter nodded and hurried off, leaving Charlie to observe the crowd. Behind him, two older women were deep in conversation, their voices low but excited.
"Did you hear about Vice Admiral Hiroshi's ship arriving today?" one of the women whispered, clearly thrilled with the local gossip.
"Oh, I did!" the other replied. "They say the marines are staying for a while. Apparently, some even signed up for the big fighting tournament the Merchant Council's hosting in two days."
"Marines in a tournament? That's sure to draw a crowd," the first woman said, her voice hushed. "With all the pirate troubles lately, the locals could use something to take their minds off things."
Charlie leaned back, intrigued. A fighting tournament could bring together pirates, marines, and underground fighters all in one place—a chaotic mix, and one that might serve him well. With the System, he had a unique edge. If he played his cards right, he could find another Player.
Just then, his food arrived—a tempting array of grilled meats and seafood, steaming and fragrant. Charlie took a deep breath, savoring the aromas.
"Oracle," he muttered between bites, "make a note of it. Could be worth checking out."
Oracle responded in his mind, calm and steady as always.
[Information noted for future planning]
He nodded, continuing his meal, but a flicker of unease crept in. This all felt too much like a game—a dangerous one. He pushed the thought aside. For now, he'd stay sharp, always looking for his next move.
As he finished his meal, Charlie mulled over the information he'd overheard. He paid his bill, leaving a generous tip for the waiter, and then rose from his seat, his mind already plotting potential strategies.
As he walked around, Charlie kept activating his Appraisal skill, focusing on the crowd. He scanned the faces around him, searching for someone who fit his criteria. A notification pinged in his mind.
[Quick Appraisal Complete]
Name: Blackguard Tom
Crimes: Theft, Assault, Smuggling
Threat Level: High
Charlie smirked as he spotted a target—a scruffy-looking man with a shifty demeanor. He was hanging back near a darkened alley, casting glances around as if he were waiting for something—or someone.
"Looks like I've found my guy, Oracle, Give me a quest"
[New Quest Initiated: Investigate Blackguard Tom]
Objective: Gather information on Blackguard Tom's activities and assess his threat level.
Reward: Keen Observation (Beginner) - Enhances your ability to notice subtle details and analyze situations.
Failure: Increased risk of being caught, leading to unwanted attention.
Charlie grinned. Not all quests gave skills as rewords after all. With determination, he positioned himself closer to his target and activated his Appraisal skill once more. He had learned that in order to get a clear picture of the person, he needed not only close proximity but also time and direct eyesight. This made it even more challenging, especially since he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He pretended to browse through items at a nearby merchant stall while keeping his eyes on the shady character. Maintaining a direct eye on the target for an extended period was essential for the skill to work effectively, but it was not easy to do discreetly in such a bustling market square.
[Appraisal In Progress - 20%]
The mental notification popped up as Charlie maintained his stare. He could tell Blackguard Tom was getting antsy, glancing around more frequently as if sensing the scrutiny. Charlie forced himself to look away for a moment, examining a scrap of fabric.
[Appraisal Interrupted]
Charlie stifled a sigh of frustration. This was going to be harder than he thought. As he shifted his gaze back to Tom, the shady man suddenly started moving, slipping into the darkened alley behind him.
"Damn it," Charlie muttered under his breath. He couldn't let his target get away now. Abandoning all pretense of browsing the merchant's wares, he quickly followed after Tom, keeping to the shadows as he entered the alley.
The narrow passage was dimly lit, the tall buildings on either side blocking out most of the sunlight. Charlie's eyes adjusted to the gloom as he scanned for any sign of his quarry. Up ahead, he caught a flicker of movement. Tom was hurrying down the alley, glancing furtively over his shoulder.
Charlie quickened his pace, his boots barely making a sound on the cobblestones as he tailed Tom through the shadowy alleyway. The shady man seemed on edge, constantly glancing back as if sensing he was being followed. Charlie had to be careful not to lose him in the winding passages that snaked between buildings.
But as he moved deeper into the alley, an unsettling feeling crept over him, like a cold draft cutting through the narrow passage. He shook it off as nerves, but the strange sensation lingered. His instincts whispered that he wasn't alone, but he brushed it aside—too focused on the task at hand to worry about ghosts in the shadows.
As Tom made a sudden turn to the left, vanishing around a corner, Charlie let out a quiet expletive and increased his pace to catch up. As he turned the corner, he found himself in a small, dimly lit courtyard surrounded by dilapidated buildings. Crates and barrels were scattered against the walls in haphazard piles. Four pirates stood in the center, their postures menacing.
Propped against a stack of boxes with arms crossed was someone familiar from the anime series. Pearl towered over the others, his muscular build dominating the scene. Tom lay sprawled on the ground nearby, clutching his face and groaning in pain.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Pearl said, his voice dripping with disdain as he looked down at Tom. "Looks like a little rat followed you, Tom. Didn't I tell you to make sure you weren't followed?"
Tom whimpered, shaking his head. "I-I'm sorry, man! I thought I was being careful, I swear!"
Pearl snorted, uncrossing his arms and cracking his knuckles menacingly. He gestured to the two pirates flanking him, who stepped forward with guns drawn, their predatory smiles revealing their intentions. A third pirate remained behind Pearl, his weapon aimed at Tom.
Charlie cursed under his breath, realizing his mistake. "I messed up," he muttered, shaking his head. His heart raced, not for the right reasons. He had rushed in without thinking—without putting on his gas mask. Sloppy.
Oracle, remind me next time not to charge in without my mask, he thought, frustration lacing his voice.
[Noted. I will ensure you are prepared before engaging,] Oracle replied, its calm tone almost infuriating given the situation.
Before Charlie could react further, a notification blinked in his vision:
[Appraisal Complete]
Name: Blackguard Tom
Status: Queasy
Affiliations: Red Claw Syndicate
Rank: Enforcer
Health: Stable (Currently recovering from damage to the face)
Threat level: High
Weapons: 2 high-quality Stilettos, Brass Knuckles
Bounty: 5,000,000 Beli
Crimes: Theft, Assault, Smuggling, Kidnapping
Skills:
Pugilism (Adept)
Knife Mastery (Intermediate)
Intimidation (Adept)
Stealth (Intermediate)
Notes: The Syndicate is infamous for moving illicit goods, including weapons, stolen cargo, and illegal substances. Blackguard Tom is directly responsible for keeping their allied pirates, Don Krieg's Armada, stocked with supplies, however all the people from the supply chain, from both sides have been caught thanks to the information you gave the marines yesterday and now he is under scrutiny from both sides.
[Quest Complete: Investigate Blackguard Tom]
Reward: Keen Observation (Beginner)
Not one of them, Charlie dismissed Tom and his quest mentally, he should use Appraisal on Pearl next.
[Quick Appraisal Complete]
Name: Pearl
Status: Confident, Slightly Annoyed
Threat level: Very High
Pearl cracked his neck, stepping over Tom. "Big mistake," he sneered, his cold eyes locking on Charlie. Two pirates flanked him, weapons raised.
He held up his hands, trying to appear non-threatening. "Look, I think there's been a misunderstanding here. I wasn't following anyone, I was just—"
"Save it," Pearl cut him off, his voice sharp. "I don't care what excuses you've got. The fact is, you've seen something you shouldn't have. And now you've got to deal with us."
Charlie's instincts screamed, a chill racing down his spine. He had options—but the odds weren't in his favor.
His mind was racing. Escape was not an option, he wasn't bulletproof yet. He needed a plan—fast.
He glanced around the courtyard, noting the scattered crates and barrels. He could at least use those for some cover.
"Okay, okay," Charlie said, slowly lowering his hands just enough that they where between himself and the gunmen, palms facing outward in a gesture of surrender, fingers relaxed as he wanted to appear non-threatening. "You're right, I shouldn't have followed your friend here. My mistake." He took a slow step to the side, angling himself closer to the crates. "How about we just forget this whole thing and go our separate ways?"
Before they could respond, Charlie summoned two flintlock pistols from his inventory.
With his hands already in the right position, he immediately pulled the triggers, the sharp cracks echoing through the courtyard. The two pirates threatening him with guns fell to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling beneath their heads.
As Pearl's expression shifted from amusement to shock, Charlie sent the now empty guns back into his inventory, and two more appeared in their stead, gleaming menacingly. He aimed at Pearl and the last remaining pirate, squeezing the triggers again.
But Pearl was quick. With a swift motion, he brought up his Iron Shield, the metal glinting as it caught the light. The bullet ricocheted off harmlessly, the impact sending a reverberating clang into the air. The last pirate managed to evade as well, but not entirely; the bullet clipped his shoulder, sending him stumbling back with a pained shout.
In the chaos, Charlie seized his chance. He dove to the side, rolling behind a stack of crates for cover. His heart raced as he caught his breath, adrenaline flooding his system. He needed to regroup and assess his options.
Pearl, enraged, shouted, "You little bastard! You think you can take us on?" His voice was thunderous, echoing in the small courtyard.
Charlie remained hidden behind the stack of crates, his mind racing for a plan.
"Seems like I've already taken down your backup crew. What makes you think you stand a chance alone?" Charlie retorted, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins.
Pearl let out a deep, menacing laugh. "You got lucky, but luck won't save you from me."
He charged, shield smashing into the crate with a deafening clang, missing by inches.
Reacting quickly, Charlie dodged to the side just in time, feeling the rush of air whistle past him. The impact of Pearl's shield against the crates sent wooden splinters flying in all directions.
"Missed me!" Charlie taunted, leaping over a fallen barrel to gain some distance.
As Pearl regained his balance, he raised his hand, signaling Tom to flank Charlie from the other side while he retreated.
Tom moved with stealthy grace, slipping around the crates, his eyes narrowed as he prepared to trap Charlie between them. The realization sent a chill down Charlie's spine—he was now surrounded. With a quick spin, he faced the fast approaching smuggler head-on.
"I hope you're more skilled than your friends," Charlie taunted, the words laced with defiance as he readied himself for the impending clash. He refused to let fear creep in, even as the odds stacked against him.
Tom lunged, stilettos flashing. Charlie reacted, pulling more flintlocks from his inventory and leveling them at him. He was outmatched—facing a tank and an assassin again—but he didn't have a choice, and they all knew it.
Pearl had positioned himself in front of the only exit and seemed to be letting Tom to do all the fighting for him, most likely to tire him out first, possibly to flank him as well but Charlie felt like he had one advantage, he wasn't really alone.
Oracle, can you keep an eye on Pearl for me?
[Affirmative, I will monitor Pearl's actions and alert you if he makes any moves,] Oracle replied in Charlie's mind, a reassuring presence amidst the tension.
With Oracle watching his back, Charlie could focus solely on the threat before him. Tom circled him like a shark, his stilettos glinting menacingly. Charlie kept his flintlocks trained on the smuggler, watching for any sudden movements.
Tom's stilettos flickered as he feinted to the left, then lunged right, trying to catch Charlie off guard. But Charlie anticipated the move, sidestepping smoothly and firing off a shot but Tom twisted out of the way with surprising agility.
"Nice try," Charlie jeered, keeping his distance. "But you'll have to do better than that."
"You're in over your head," Tom sneered, rushing him with a snarl.
"I'll take my chances," Charlie shot back, dodging another attack.
The courtyard had become chaotic, splinters flying and the sharp cracks of gunfire echoing off the walls. Charlie's heart pounded in his chest as he barely resisted Tom's relentless assault, sweat beading on his brow. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever - but he had a plan. He'd been studying Fish-Man Karate, practicing the fluid movements and devastating strikes whenever he had a moment. It was a risk, beginner level skills where not that great, plus, It probably wouldn't have worked on someone fully armored like Pearl anyway.
As Tom lunged forward, Charlie let himself fall backwards, as if tripping over a loose cobblestone. Tom's eyes widened in surprise for a split second as he saw his opening and he surged ahead, moving way faster than Charlie had expected. Charlie immediately swung his arm in a Fish-man Karate move, but Tom was ready. He dodged by a hair's breadth and closed the distance.
Before Charlie could react, the first stiletto found its mark, plunging into his shoulder with sickening precision. He gasped in pain as the blade went clean through. The second stiletto, aimed at his head only grazed his ear, leaving a shallow cut but narrowly missing a more serious injury.
Agony shot through his body—the first time he'd truly been hurt since coming to this world. His mind screamed in shock, but his instincts took over. Without a second's hesitation, he pulled another fully loaded flintlock pistol from his inventory into his uninjured hand and with a grimace, he leveled it at Tom's midsection.
"Bang!"
The shot rang out, and Tom staggered backward, clutching his side as the bullet struck home. He fell to the ground, his breath shallow, blood seeping from the wound.
Charlie's eyes blazed with fury. His shoulder throbbed, blood flowing freely, but he didn't let the pain control him. With anger and indignation thick in his voice, he tossed the flintlocks into the air. It vanished mid-flight, dispersing back into his inventory.
"Don't worry," Charlie growled, pulling out two more loaded pistols. "I've got more where that came from. I'll fill you full of lead."
Tom's eyes widened as Charlie leveled the guns. But before Charlie could pull the trigger, Oracle's voice interrupted him .
[Warning! Pearl is approaching you from behind!]
Charlie barely had time to register the warning before an impact hit him like a freight train. Pearl, out of nowhere, and at a speed that didn't make sense for his size crashed into Charlie with a shield bash so powerful it sent him skipping across the surface of the ground like a stone over water.
He's body hit the wall hard, pain flaring from everywhere. He groaned, dazed, Oracle's warning still echoing in his mind. Even knowing the attack was coming, he couldn't dodge it—his shoulder and the loss of blood, slowed him down just enough.
Lying on the ground, Charlie struggled to catch his breath. Drenched and depleted, each inhalation was painful.
[Warning! You have sustained multiple injuries. You are bleeding and have a concussion. Medical attention is advised.]
Coughing, blood dripped from his mouth as he attempted to lift himself off the ground. His head pounded, and for a brief moment, doubt flickered through his mind. What was I thinking? He had rushed in like an idiot.
I got too cocky... His breath was ragged, a pulse of pain radiating from his shoulder—a sharp reminder that he wasn't invincible. Not even close.
As he struggled push himself upright, his right knee buckled beneath him making him fall back down. Great, dislocated. He cursed under his breath.
Two days ago, I was just a normal guy... And now he was fighting for his life. Pearl was relentless, and if even Sanji had struggled against this brute, what chance did Charlie think he had?
But there was no time to dwell on that. The pain refocused him—pain means I'm still alive. Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to move again. Focus. Survive.
"Oracle, can you get me anything to help with this shoulder?" he asked hurriedly, knowing time was slipping away.
Oracle's response was immediate and emotionless.
[Insufficient resources for any effective healing at this time.]
Pearl closed in, Tom trailing with a hand on his stomach. But Charlie wasn't done.
Not yet... he thought, he's heart pounded in his chest as Pearl's massive foot came down, aiming directly for his head.
Just before the kick could connect Charlie yanked a large rock from his inventory and dropped it right in Pearl's path.
"Thud!"
The sickening sound of foot meeting stone was followed by Pearl's agonizing scream. The sudden pain shot up his leg, and Charlie felt a small, grim satisfaction. That's right, scream. For a moment, the tables had turned. But he knew it wasn't enough to stop Pearl. Not by a long shot.
The suddenness of it all startled Tom, freezing him in place for just a second.
Charlie's gaze sharpened. One second is all I need. Without hesitation, he pulled the last loaded pistol from his inventory and aimed at Tom's knee. You're going down.
The shot rang out, hitting its mark, and Tom crumpled forward, crashing into Pearl, sending both men sprawling to the ground in a heap. his face twisted in pain.
Charlie seized the brief opening, knowing it was his only chance. Ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder and knee, he dragged himself back to his feet, his breathing ragged. He had to move fast.
"Oracle, options," he grunted, his voice strained. He needed a way out, and fast.
[Recommended course of action: Immediate retreat and medical attention. Your current condition puts you at a severe disadvantage. Engaging further risks critical injury or death.]
As much as it stung his pride, he knew Oracle was right. He was in no shape to keep fighting and he was all out of loaded flintlocks as well. Survival had to come first.
He stumbled towards the courtyard exit, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Each step sent a jolt of agony through his body, but he pushed through it, his mind focused on one thing: survival.
Behind him, he could hear Pearl and Tom struggling to untangle themselves, their curses and grunts echoing off the walls. He didn't dare look back, knowing that every second counted.
Just a little further, he urged himself, his vision blurring at the edges. The exit was just ahead, a narrow alleyway promising escape. If he could just reach it...
[Warning! You are losing to much blood. Your injuries may worsen if you exert yourself.]
The courtyard seemed to stretch on forever, the exit tantalizingly out of reach. Each footfall echoed in his ears, a steady rhythm that pounded in sync with the throbbing pain in his knee. He could feel his strength waning, the edges of his vision starting to darken as his body began to shut down from the pain and exhaustion.
Almost there. Just a few more steps.
His body was failing him, though. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, his strength draining with each passing second. The world around him blurred and twisted, like he was underwater. His legs wobbled, his grip on reality loosening. He could feel himself slipping, consciousness hanging by a thread.
Then, as he stumbled, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A figure appeared at the entrance of the alley, cloaked in shadow. He couldn't make out any details—his vision was too blurred—but the figure stood still, watching him.
His mind raced, trying to process what little he could see, but his body couldn't take any more. His legs finally gave out, sending him crashing to his knees. The world tilted dangerously, the pain in his body now a distant echo.
The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the figure stepping forward, closing the distance between them with deliberate, heavy steps.
And then, nothing.
[AN] I realize that I need to work on the quests descriptions and system logs and all that in order to make them standardized, I just don't now how yet. Also are my fight scenes too big, this one is around 2000 words. Also, also I have noticed that I do not make enough description of how the people look, but I will try to do more of that in the future.