Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Reluctant Captain

Lucas stepped onto the Moby Dick, met with a chorus of cheers and curious stares from the assembled crew. Their anticipation was palpable, and Lucas could only sigh inwardly. 

This wasn't the life he wanted. He'd much rather be back on his island, sketching the next chapter of his comics and quietly growing stronger through the system's mysterious enhancements. The position of acting captain? Too much hassle. 

In truth, Lucas wasn't your typical pirate. He was a traveller from another world, thrown into this one without warning or preparation. His first days in the chaotic seas had been perilous, and he'd nearly perished at the hands of lesser pirates. 

By sheer luck, Whitebeard himself had stumbled upon him during a late-night drinking spree and saved his life. With his signature laughter, the old man had declared that Lucas was now part of his "family." 

It had been a blessing to find refuge under the protection of the Whitebeard Pirates, but Lucas knew the timeline of this world all too well. The glorious Whitebeard Pirates were destined to fall during the fateful war at Marineford. Even the great Whitebeard himself wouldn't survive. 

In the years since joining the crew, Lucas had earned Whitebeard's trust with his sharp insight and uncanny ability to predict significant events. The crew had come to rely on his advice, though not without scepticism—especially when it came to Teach, the unassuming member whose betrayal Lucas had warned about repeatedly. 

But Whitebeard's steadfast belief in family had made him deaf to such warnings. "No one slanders my sons," he'd growled, shutting down Lucas's attempts. 

Lucas had tried a softer approach, hinting to Thatch, the captain of the fourth division, to be cautious. But Thatch, with his ever-cheerful demeanour, had laughed it off. "Teach? Nah, he wouldn't hurt a fly!" 

After that, Lucas gave up trying to change fate directly. Instead, he focused on his hidden ace: the God-Level Comic System

This unique system rewarded him for creating extraordinary comics. With every chapter he drew, he earned mysterious energy points that randomly boosted his abilities. It wasn't the straightforward path of a Devil Fruit or training in Haki, but it was effective. 

Lucas had lived in seclusion for years, steadily amassing strength while preparing for the war he knew was coming. 

And then, Whitebeard called. 

Now, he was standing before the crew, feeling a headache forming. The timing couldn't have been worse. The storm of war was on the horizon, and Lucas wanted to focus on his final preparations. Instead, he'd been saddled with the massive responsibility of leading the crew. 

He turned to Whitebeard, his expression a mix of exasperation and pleading. "Dad, can't you pick someone else? Surely Marco or one of the others can handle this." 

"Gurararara~ Don't be modest, my boy," Whitebeard chuckled, throwing an arm around Lucas's shoulders. "Your brothers are great fighters, but managing this rowdy bunch? That's a different story. You're the only one with the brains for it!" 

The captains exchanged looks, their expressions somewhere between flattery and annoyance. 

"Gee, thanks, Dad," Marco muttered under his breath. 

Lucas sighed, recognizing there was no escaping this. "Alright, but don't blame me if I'm too blunt with them." 

Whitebeard laughed heartily. "Blunt is what we need! Besides, you've never been wrong before." 

Lucas cringed at the memory of Whitebeard dismissing his warnings about Teach and Thatch. Those tragedies had only solidified the old man's trust in Lucas's judgment. 

With a final wave to his crew, Whitebeard leapt onto a small whale-shaped boat and set off, leaving the Moby Dick in Lucas's reluctant hands. 

As the ship grew smaller on the horizon, Marco crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, Captain Lucas, what's the plan?" 

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, "First plan? Survive this headache…" 

The captains laughed, their respect for the reluctant leader growing. Lucas, however, felt the weight of the crew's expectations settling heavily on his shoulders. The war was coming, and he had to ensure they were ready.