The vast blue ocean rippled gently, and now and then, a bird soared across the sky. One of them had a bag of newspapers hanging from its neck—it was a News Coo.
Rono jumped up excitedly from an old, worn-out little fishing boat, waving the coins in his hand at the News Coo. The bird hesitated for a moment but eventually flew over. After all, no one would stop a shipwrecked young man from caring about current events, right? Besides, he had money. Ahem, not that that was the main reason. The News Coo quickly reached Rono, who cheerfully stuffed the coins into its pouch, then casually stroked its long neck.
Crack.
The bird's neck bent 180°. Rono skillfully took the pouch, emptied the coins, and tossed the empty bag into the sea. Judging by how smooth and practiced he was, he'd done this at least twenty times.
"Ugh, News Coos are getting rarer and rarer lately… Am I really gonna die out here? Manga really is full of lies. They promised fishing boats and adventure!" Rono grumbled while snapping the bird's neck and drinking the fresh red "beverage." After he finished, he grabbed a piece of jerky from the boat's storage and began gnawing on it.
---
Two days earlier—
Rono had boarded this "borrowed" old fishing boat and started his escape. Just thinking about being chased by more than twenty people made him click his tongue. "I just stole a knife, was that really worth all the fuss?"
Actually, if Rono hadn't clung to the idea of "I'm a good person, I can't just watch public indecency in broad daylight," and pulled out a loudspeaker Den Den Mushi to broadcast a live audio feed to the whole town, that nobleman (the main guy in the broadcast) wouldn't have been so obsessed with hunting him down.
Honestly, Rono brought this on himself.
---
Back in the present, after eating and drinking his fill (in a certain sense), Rono laid back down like a corpse to conserve energy. As the sun began to set, he suddenly sat upright and stared into the distance: a cargo ship was slowly approaching.
Excited, Rono waved both hands vigorously. In one of them, he clutched a coin pouch—the pleasant clinking of gold coins ringing out clearly.
No matter what, under Rono's hopeful gaze, the cargo ship gradually approached and lowered a soft rope ladder.
"I'm saved!" With the help of the sailors, Rono climbed aboard. The crew all kept their eyes on him, visibly cautious. A rugged man with a full beard, wearing a captain's uniform and a tricorn hat, stepped forward.
"What are you doing out here? In that tiny fishing boat no less?"
"Ahem," Rono cleared his throat—he'd only had a bit of News Coo blood today, so his throat was dry. "Well, mister, I just ran off blindly and got lost. Can you give me a ride? I'll pay, of course." He didn't answer the captain's question directly but shook his coin pouch.
The captain sized him up. Aside from the two coin pouches in his hands, the boy wore a decent outfit and carried a katana at his waist. Not bad. Probably just another thrill-seeking brat.
"Fine then. How old are you? We're heading to Alabasta. If it's along the way for you, the fare's 100,000 Berries. It's not exactly nearby. If it's not along the way, we'll drop you off at the next port—just pay a symbolic fee then."
"Oh, it's along the way, for sure!" Rono grinned. "I'm Rono, 15 years old! Nice to meet you all!" He scratched his slightly greasy red hair and handed over the fare. "Here's the money."
The captain took the Berries, waved his hand, and the crew dispersed. "You're lucky we found you. If you'd run into a pirate ship, you might've been sold off as a slave. Here's some advice—go home while you still can."
The captain knew full well: "Along the way" his ass. If that broken fishing boat had made it from Alabasta, he'd eat crap and kill himself. But since he had nothing to do with this kid, a warning was the most he'd offer.
---
That night, after a hearty meal, Rono lay on a hammock wearing a sailor's uniform (secondhand, of course). He muttered in his mind: "System, attribute panel."
Beep. A digital tone rang out in Rono's head, and a virtual panel was projected onto his retinas:
---
Body Strength: 21 (Average: 10)
Bone Strength: 25 (Average: 15)
Abilities: Self-Healing Factor, Bone Claws
Note: The average adult human has 10 body strength and 15 bone strength.
Assessment: You've got nothing to be proud of. Your only advantages are racial talents. You're still trash.
---
Rono muttered, "Wow, way to disrespect racial talents. Other people wish they had them. I was born to be superior!"
Beep
"Due to the host's arrogance, the system will now issue a reward: Hell Training (Level 1).
Failure penalty: Electric Shock LV3."
"…Uh, can I refuse?"
"… …"
"I was wrong! I'm guilty! I shouldn't have gotten cocky! Merciful system, please spare me!"
Beep
"Important item dropped. Host, please retrieve it immediately."
"Eh? Where?" Rono stood up and looked around. He suddenly spotted a pile of sparkling objects at his feet.
"Wahaha! I knew I was the protagonist—treasure just falls into my lap!" He bent down to pick it up.
Beep
"Detected: A pile of 'dignity.' Pick up?"
∑°□°!!
What the hell?! Rono turned to stone on the spot. Silently, he kicked the "dignity" aside, climbed back onto his bed, and muttered, "Sleep, sleep… everything will be fine when I wake up…"
---
The next morning—
Rono gulped nervously as he read the contents of Hell Training (Level 1):
5,000 punches
5,000 kicks
1 hour of horse stance
500 shuttle runs (100m each, 15-second limit per run)
Time limit: 7 days
Note 1: Kid, heard you're full of yourself. Come on, I'll teach you a lesson.
Note 2: Unqualified actions won't count. Standards set by system. Final interpretation belongs to the system.
Note 3: Incomplete daily tasks = time wasted for the day.
---
At exactly 6 AM, the system woke him up and began seven days of brutal, inhumane training.
"Hey, kid! Didn't expect you to be so tough! By the way, food's ready—miss it and you're on your own!"
Nick, the sailor who sold Rono the uniform, came by to call him.
Only then did Rono realize—it was already noon.
---
In the ship's dining room…
Amid the clatter of utensils, Rono leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. Looking at the 20+ empty plates on the table, he exclaimed, "Man, it's been so long since I ate this much~ o≧v≦o"
The room fell dead silent. Everyone was stunned by his insane appetite.
The captain lit a cigarette silently. "This brat's ticket should've been double. What a loss…"
---
After digesting for a while, Rono resumed another round of training.
If not for the Self-Healing Factor, he'd probably be dead by now.
5,000 punches and 5,000 kicks might not be too much—but what made it hell was the system's standards.
Punch thrown—beep—off by more than 1 cm from optimal angle. Not qualified. Current total: 1566/5000…
Rono nearly broke down. A phrase flashed through his mind:
> "I've got an MMP [cuss words] I don't know if I should say or not!"
He'd done daily system training before, with a 5 cm margin for error and far fewer reps. This Hell Training (Level 1) was way harder.
He remembered the only time he got punished—one day he got carried away and forgot to do his daily training. He got hit with an Electric Shock LV1, and the next day he walked out with an afro.
If he failed this one and got hit with LV3, he might be found foaming at the mouth and passed out cold. And that's with the self-healing factor. A normal person would probably be toast.
The fear of electrocution gave Rono a sudden burst of energy.
Yep. LV3 means 30 shocks.
From 6 AM every day, Rono stayed holed up in the training room until around 10 PM. Only then could he barely finish the day's quota.