**Year 1484 of the Haiyuan Calendar, Valley of the Gods**
The dense jungle pulsed with the sound of desperate footsteps, rustling foliage, and the sharp crack of gunfire. A group of people, clad in white short-sleeved shirts emblazoned with "target" symbols, sprinted through the undergrowth like panicked prey. Their ragged breaths filled the humid air, their eyes wide with fear—shadows of helplessness clinging to their faces.
Behind them, death pursued relentlessly.
"Run! They're catching up!"
"Get out of my way! I have to survive!"
A thunderous *bang* split the air, followed by the anguished scream of a fallen man.
*Bang! Bang!*
More bodies crumpled to the forest floor, lifeless before they even registered the pain. The chaos spread like wildfire—screams, gunfire, and the frantic pounding of feet all blending into a frenzied symphony of terror. Some tripped, others shoved their way forward, their only goal to escape the unseen executioners hunting them down.
Amidst the madness, four figures huddled together, their bodies moving as one. No matter how erratic the fleeing crowd became, they stuck together, their bond stronger than the desperate instinct to scatter.
There were four of them—three boys and a girl—all children, though one of them was already built like a giant. The burly boy towered over the others, his broad frame betraying his youth despite the childish roundness still lingering in his features.
Though his physical strength far exceeded that of his companions, he refused to run ahead, choosing instead to guard their backs.
An arrow had already embedded itself deep in the target symbol on his back, the shaft quivering with every strained breath he took. Blood seeped into the fabric of his shirt, but he merely clenched his teeth, swallowing the pain without complaint.
The little girl, the only female among them, turned back and let out a heart-wrenching cry when she saw his injury. Her voice trembled with panic as she reached out toward him.
"Bear! Get in front of us! You're too big to be left at the back! You'll get hurt!"
The boy—*Bear, also known as Kuma*—forced a weak smile despite the pain creasing his face. He shook his head, his voice soft but firm.
"Ginny, don't worry about me. I'm fine. As long as you're not hurt."
His words were meant to reassure, but his pale complexion and labored breathing betrayed his true condition. He was faltering, and they all knew it.
For all his strength, Kuma was still just a child. A **two-meter-tall** child, but a child nonetheless.
The remaining two boys, who had been running just ahead, turned at the sound of Ginny's distressed voice. The boy with an afro clenched his fists when he saw the arrow sticking out of Bear's back, his expression dark with fury.
His voice was low and simmering with anger.
"Jiger, we have to find somewhere to hide—fast. Bear's not gonna last like this! Damn those bastards!"
The boy he spoke to—Jiger—was the only one among them dressed differently. Instead of the degrading white shirts marked with a **"target"**, he wore a pristine, well-tailored long-sleeved coat of fine material.
Messy black hair framed his sharp yet youthful features. His dark eyes, far too steady for someone so young, carried a rare maturity—a chilling contrast to the fear and desperation in the others.
At that moment, Jiger's face was void of emotion, his gaze cold and calculating.
He did not answer immediately, his eyes scanning their surroundings as though searching for a path unseen. Then, in a voice as calm as still water, he finally spoke.
"There is no safe place."
His words sent a shiver down their spines.
Jiger's grip tightened into fists as he continued, "We can't stop. Not yet. Hold on a little longer. The sun is setting soon. Once night falls, those bastards will retreat."
"But..."
"Run! Or you'll die!"
His voice was sharp, cutting through Ginny's hesitation like a blade.
Kuma, despite the burning pain in his back, forced himself to speak through gritted teeth.
**"Ivan-chan, Jiger is right. We can't stop here. If I can't hold on any longer… don't worry about me. Just run!"**
He was only nine years old, but his words carried the resolve of a man prepared to die.
Ginny's small hands clenched into fists as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
**"Wuwuwu... Kuma, I will never abandon you!"**
Jiger's expression remained unreadable, but his pace subtly slowed—just enough to ensure they stayed together.
It was an incredibly dangerous choice, but luck was on their side. As the sky darkened, the pursuers behind them seemed to be tiring, their gunfire becoming less frequent, their movements slowing.
The afro-haired boy bit his lip in frustration but said nothing. Ginny wiped at her teary eyes and turned forward, forcing herself to focus. Kuma gritted his teeth, pressing on despite the agony that wracked his body.
Their fate hinged on the coming night.
And so, they ran.
Less than an hour later, the gunfire behind them finally ceased, fading into silence.
Still, Jiger didn't take any chances.
"We keep moving."
Even as exhaustion weighed them down, they pressed on for a little while longer before finally stopping near a small pond deep within the jungle.
**Plop! Plop!**
The moment they halted, Ivan and Ginny collapsed onto the grass like deflated balloons. Kuma, his injury worsening, fell flat on his back, arms spread wide as he gasped for air.
Jiger, however, remained standing. His dark eyes scanned the surroundings, every rustling leaf and distant chirp heightening his alertness. Only after ensuring there were no immediate threats did he exhale and step toward the pond.
Kneeling by the water's edge, he gazed at his reflection, his mind drowning in thoughts.
A full **week** had passed since their escape began. A week of running, hiding, starving. A week of waking up to gunshots and falling asleep to the screams of those who weren't fast enough.
And yet, the most surreal part wasn't the horror—it was the **fact that he wasn't supposed to be here at all**.
Jiger had traveled through worlds and time.
Once, he had been an ordinary orphan on Earth, struggling through college while working part-time just to get by. He barely scraped through graduation, celebrating with his friends in their cramped dormitory, drinking cheap liquor into the night.
And then… nothing.
He only remembered stumbling to the bathroom, holding onto the wall for balance. Then a misstep—his foot slipping—falling from the corridor into the void.
When he woke up, he wasn't a college graduate anymore. He was an **eight-year-old child** stranded on a desolate island with his name.
Jiger.
His past life—his identity—had become a blur, leaving behind only messy fragments. Fortunately, despite the vagueness, the knowledge of **One Piece** remained vivid in his mind.
And that was how he realized exactly **where** he was.
When he first stumbled upon the runaway trio—Ginny, Ivan, and Kuma—he barely dared to believe it. But as soon as they introduced themselves, there was no doubt left in his mind.
Kuma… a massive boy, impossibly large for his age. **Bartholomew Kuma**.
Ivan… an afro-haired boy with an unmistakable aura of flamboyant *perverseness*. **Emporio Ivankov**.
Even Ginny, though less recognizable, **was supposed to be a part of their story**.
Jiger had read their tale before.
He knew what was supposed to happen.
In the manga, the three of them had been slaves in the Valley of the Gods before Kuma **accidentally discovered the
Paw-Paw Fruit**, using its newfound abilities to save them from the slaughter.
But now, the story has changed.
Because **he** was here.
And he wasn't just any extra in this world. No—he had somehow been thrust into the worst possible **starting point**.
The **Valley of the Gods**—the Celestial Dragons' hunting ground.
Jiger clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
He knew exactly what this place was. He knew what was coming.
Very soon, this island would become the battlefield for **the most terrifying powers in the One Piece world**.
The **Rocks Pirates**—a crew filled with **monsters**.
The **Navy**, bringing with them **their strongest warriors**.
And worst of all, the Celestial Dragons' **trump card**—the **Knights of God**.
Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.
And here he was—weak, defenseless, and completely outmatched.
A single pirate with a gun could end him in seconds.
Jiger's body trembled. Not from fear—no, he had been past that stage for days now—but from sheer **rage**.
'What the hell is this?!'
Where was his **novice village**? His **beginner tutorial**?
How was it fair to **drop him right in front of a max-level boss battle** with nothing but his bare hands?!
He had hoped—prayed—that this world would at least give him something. A **system**, a cheat, anything to level the playing field.
He had waited, expecting to hear that **familiar "ding!"** in his mind, some godly voice announcing:
*"XX condition met! Unlocking XX ability!"*
But nothing came.
Day after day, bullet after bullet, death after death—his supposed **golden finger** never appeared.
At this point, he had grown numb to the daily sound of gunfire and screams.
No power-up. No chosen one prophecy.
Just **survival.**
Jiger's breathing grew heavier, his knuckles white as he suddenly slammed his fist into the pond, the impact sending ripples across the water.
His teeth clenched, and from between them, he spat out a whisper filled with venom.
**"Celestial Dragons..."**
His chest heaved as the words burned in his throat.
**"If I make it out of here alive—**
**I swear none of you will live an easy life!!!"**
The stars above flickered in the darkening sky, reflecting in the water like shattered glass.
And in that moment, as his reflection rippled with fury, Jiger made a silent vow.
He **would not** die here.
He **would not** remain weak.
He **would** survive.
And one day—**he would slaughter them all.**