Paradise – Shiganomi, January 1st, Year 1479 of the Sea Era.
Boom!
After five years in this world, the inevitable had finally happened.
When Arlen was reborn, he wasn't sure what to think. Just moments earlier, he'd been a normal guy — and suddenly, he was here. Confused, scared, and overwhelmed by the sight of a land filled with rust and scrap, stretching endlessly toward the horizon.
He remembered wandering for hours, lost among mountains of garbage, too afraid to call for help, surrounded by broken ships and wreckage corroded by time. A clueless kid, blind to the chaotic future waiting just around the corner.
After all, Shiganomi was no place for the weak.
And back then… he was anything but strong.
It wasn't until the moon hung in the sky that he finally understood what was happening. It took an entire day for the chaotic memories of the man once known as Kurogane D. Arlen to settle, while the soul of the poor boy who had once lived in that body was slowly devoured by his own.
He had transmigrated into the world of One Piece — and he had nothing.
No divine lights.
No bored gods waiting with a starter pack.
He just stole the kid's body… and existed.
Later, he realized all he had was that body, his knowledge, and an overwhelming amount of talent. As far as he could tell, that was it.
And deep down… it was enough.
Boom!
—Help! Mom-!
—No!
—Die, you damn revolutionary!
"Shit," Arlen muttered through gritted teeth, catching his breath behind a wall of rubble. "They won't even let me reminisce in peace…"
Around him, bullets screamed in every direction. Flames burned out of control. The few buildings still standing groaned, threatening to collapse at any second.
The screams of allies and enemies blended into a deafening symphony of chaos.
—Arlen, the situation's gone to hell… I don't know what the fuck we're paying for. — A middle-aged man stumbled nearby, his bloodied body giving out as he collapsed onto the debris. —We were doing fine until those Marines showed up…
"Just a setback, Kael," Arlen replied, holding back his anger. "The king's still hiding behind his walls. And it's only one Marine battleship. Most of that bastard Jeres' army joined us—if we finish them off, we ca-"
He fell silent for a moment. His chest relaxed as the exhaustion built up over hours of battle faded away, his recovery unnaturally swift.
"…Rest, old friend."
Slowly, he stepped out from the rubble and knelt beside the man. With a steady, almost calm hand, he closed his eyes. He was his right hand. His mentor. His family. The mad old man who had taken him in and dreamed of a better future for the wretched of Shiganomi. The fool who convinced him to use his strength for a revolution in the name of something greater.
And now he lay there. Dead.
Because of one man.
—There you are,— a worn voice broke the silence. —I figured you'd slipped away, using the chaos you started.
That voice. That damn voice.
The voice of the Marine who chose today to throw all of Kael and Olaf's plans in the trash.
—I'm glad I was wrong. What was your name again? Arda? Alan? …No, Arlen. Yeah, that was it.
Just a few meters away, standing at a towering three meters tall, was an old man. The Marine cloak billowed behind him.
Vice Admiral Raya.
Eighty-two years old. A legend behind the scenes. Worn down by time, sure… but his aura was dangerous. A shadow of the terrifying force he once was — and yet still so threatening.
—Do an old man a favor and just surrender, will you?— Raya asked, with a smile that was almost grandfatherly. —The gods know my back can't take another real fight.
His shoulders slumped as he smiled. His tone was warm, his face kind. He looked like a grandpa offering candy to a grandchild.
But his eyes… there was nothing sweet in those eyes.
His body looked frail, but Arlen could see the truth — in the way the once-saggy, wrinkled muscles tensed with a strength that simply didn't belong to someone his age.
"Old man…"
Arlen's brow furrowed. His clothes were torn and battered. His muscles bulged beneath his skin, as if trying to tear through it. Tense fibers. The air around him crackled.
"You killed my friend. You leveled this city without caring who you hit," he spat. "There's no way I let that slide. And there's no way you're leaving this island alive."
Raya sighed, his expression tinged with mild disappointment.
—Well… I was hoping a kid like you would have more sense. After all, you started all this, didn't you? A revolution, people dead, blood in the streets… Oh well. What can you expect from a revolutionary?
His fists clenched. Massive hands, scarred by years and wars. His once-kind expression faded, replaced by something far more honest — pure contempt.
—Let me show you… just how useless your courage really is, boy.
Arlen knew. He wasn't stupid.
If someone that old was still active — and held that rank — it could only mean one thing.
—Three… two… one…
The old man was strong enough to do something.
—I'm coming.
The air cracked.
In an instant, the world seemed to tremble.
The air grew thick. And in the blink of a moment, a Haki-blackened fist appeared in front of Arlen's face, flying toward him at full speed.
He barely had time to grit his teeth.
"(Shit-)"
Crack!
To be continued.
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Hello everyone, I'm a new author inspired by other fanfics to write my own. I've been reading for a long time, and with each reading, I've gotten more and more eager to write. I'm sorry if the grammar isn't very good; I don't speak English, so I'm translating what I write and correcting it as best I can with my nonexistent knowledge.
Thanks so much for reading. See you soon!