The vast and boundless ocean is fair and magnificent. It continuously embraces and accepts everything without judgment, including all the world's sins and dreams.
Year 1496 of the Sea Circle Calendar. The Western Sea.
Foster D. Shalanter had been drifting alone on the ocean for an entire week. After his country was overthrown by pirates, the five-year-old boy had lost everything.
His father, mother, sister, and all his relatives and friends had perished in the pirate attack. Only he, by some stroke of luck, had managed to escape on a wooden raft.
However, Shalanter's current situation was far from ideal. As a five-year-old child, stranded alone at sea, there was no way to look at it as anything but disastrous.
Moreover, his food supply was running low. While he had brought plenty of food when escaping, in the endless ocean, that little food was never enough.
Fortunately, Shalanter was an excellent fisherman. Fishing had been his father's greatest hobby, and naturally, that had influenced him. Thanks to his fishing skills, Shalanter's food supply barely kept up.
But sailing on the ocean, fresh water was always much more important than food, and Shalanter had no way to obtain fresh water. At this rate, there were only two possible outcomes for him: dehydration or drowning.
Although he had lived two lives, his memories of the past were completely lost. He was an otherworldly transmigrator, but he had no extraordinary abilities or cheats on him. In fact, Shalanter didn't even know that he was a transmigrator. All he had was the mentality of a five-year-old: somewhat resolute and calm, but otherwise like any other child.
Just as Shalanter was on the brink of despair, a distant island suddenly appeared before his eyes.
The island was covered in dense forests, and in its center stood a towering giant tree. It wasn't an exaggeration—this tree's enormous canopy and lush branches almost overshadowed the entire island.
The island didn't seem particularly prosperous, but it appeared to be inhabited.
Shalanter's heart leapt with joy. No one wants to die if there's a chance to survive. Moreover, as a five-year-old child who knew nothing of navigation, drifting aimlessly on the boundless sea, finding an inhabited island was already an immense stroke of luck amidst misfortune.
Shalanter rowed his raft with all his might, and finally reached the shore before the tide receded.
Upon reaching the island, exhausted, Shalanter couldn't help but think of his deceased relatives and friends. Overcome with grief, he collapsed from both thirst and fatigue and fell into a deep sleep.
At this point, it's necessary to explain a bit about Shalanter's background.
Foster D. Shalanter was a member of the Foster family (fictional). The Foster family was one of the many families that inherited the will of D, but unlike powerful figures like Gol D. Roger or Monkey D. Garp, the descendants of the Foster family had not produced such great figures. Although the Foster family was quite powerful hundreds of years ago, it wouldn't have dared to take the surname "Foster" (which means "first") if it hadn't seen itself as the "first" family, it had now fallen into decline due to the passing of time and lack of heirs.
In fact, most families that inherited the will of D had gradually disappeared from the stage of history, fading away with the winds of time. Only a few families had managed to pass down the will of D.
Shalanter's father was a general in a kingdom of the Western Sea. However, he wasn't a military genius or a man of exceptional strength. He was merely a good-natured man who cared for his subordinates but lacked much ability. As a person, Shalanter's father was certainly commendable, but as a general, he was rather mediocre.
This kingdom was merely a small one, and in this pirate-ruled era, it had been completely overthrown during the latest pirate invasion.
In this age of rampant piracy, although the navy wasn't weak, its influence had diminished greatly, especially as most of the navy's forces were focused on the Grand Line. The instances of nations being toppled by pirates were not a rare sight, though not a daily occurrence either.
After the kingdom's overthrow, countless civilians were left homeless, and countless children lost their parents. Foster D. Shalanter was merely one of many.
As the first rays of sunlight touched the land the next day, Shalanter slowly regained consciousness.
Looking around at the unfamiliar environment, Shalanter didn't know where to go. While his mentality far exceeded that of children his age, he lacked the experience and knowledge of an adult.
Although Shalanter didn't know how things would unfold, he understood that his first priority was to survive. Only by living could he hope for anything else.
Shalanter finished off his remaining food and managed to build a small hut by the seaside from whatever he could find. It couldn't be called a proper house; it was more like a makeshift shelter. But with everything he had lost, he had to accept it—after all, he needed a place to stay, however humble.
Food was no longer a major concern. Shalanter's fishing skills were more than adequate, and since this world hadn't undergone an industrial revolution, the waters were clean and the fish plentiful. The fish were not as wary as in overfished areas, and Shalanter had no problem catching enough to sustain himself—and even a little extra.
In the following week, Shalanter's main task was to build a proper place for rest, as the original hut made of grass was too poor and could barely withstand wind or rain.
Although Shalanter was only five, his physical strength was impressive—almost on par with an adult man. This was something he could be proud of. If he were allowed to grow up safely and receive proper training, he could certainly rise to the rank of a naval officer.
But there were no ifs in history... History never allows for hypothetical scenarios.
With his strength far exceeding that of children his age, and after a week of hard work, Shalanter finally built a small wooden house in the woods by the sea.
Though the house was only about ten square meters, it was still a place where Shalanter could call home.
During the week, by selling fish at the local market and using some money he had on hand, Shalanter was able to purchase everything he needed. The people on the island were warm and helpful. Seeing that Shalanter was just a child, they gave him some kindness. After all, the people of this world were still simple-hearted, and no one would stoop to deceiving or bullying a child trying to make a living.
Through conversations with the locals, Shalante
r learned the name of the island—Ohara, the Island of Archaeologists.