"It's over."
Ron flicked his wrist, sending the last streak of blood from his blade into the sea. The corpses of the Iron Hammer Pirates littered the deck, and only the sound of rolling waves broke the silence.
He walked to the edge of the ship, glancing down at the bodies of those who had leapt into the ocean in terror. Most had vanished beneath the waves, their fear doing more to kill them than his magic ever could.
"If they'd fought in smaller groups instead of swarming together," he murmured, "I might have had a hard time taking them all down. But I suppose I should thank my harmless appearance for that."
The corners of his lips quirked upward, though a faint frown soon followed.
"Do I really look that weak?"
Behind him, Nami landed lightly on the bloodstained deck, her expression half annoyed, half amused. "You certainly didn't look weak just now," she said dryly. "But… you've turned this whole ship into a slaughterhouse. Cleaning this up is going to be a nightmare."
Though she spoke with mock complaint, her tone was calm. Having lived under Arlong, Nami had seen scenes far worse than this. Pirates dying meant nothing to her in fact, every dead pirate was one less monster to torment the innocent.
Ron, however, was facing this carnage for the first time. Yet his spirit was far stronger than any ordinary person's. Fear, guilt, and unease were emotions he could easily suppress.
Powerful spirit didn't just mean sharper thought. It meant mastery over one's emotions, one's desires, one's very mind.
He sighed softly. "There wasn't really another choice. If I'd used fire magic here, the whole ship would've gone up in flames. Wind magic was the only safe option."
Nami shrugged, a teasing smile touching her lips. "Whatever you say, Captain. Anyway, I'll go below deck to check for treasure. I'm sure these pirates didn't come empty-handed."
"Of course you will."
Ron gave her a tired smile and watched her vanish below deck. Then, leaning against a railing unstained by blood, he summoned the translucent panel of his Achievement System.
Moments earlier, when he had slain Iron Hammer Loff, a familiar sound had echoed in his mind.
[Achievement Unlocked: Captain II — Reward: 1 Achievement Point]
The condition was to seize a medium-sized, twin-masted ship exactly what this was. The smaller "Captain I" achievement, which required ownership of a single-mast ship, still hadn't triggered. He supposed Nami's old boat didn't qualify; it was too small, barely more than a dinghy.
"Well, I'll find a smaller one later," he muttered. "Easy enough."
He focused his thoughts and poured his newly earned points into Spirit. His total jumped past the long-awaited threshold thirty points.
A sharp sound rang through his soul, clear as crystal striking ice.
Ding!
In that instant, something deep within him rippled. His perception sharpened until the world itself seemed to grow more vivid colors brighter, edges clearer, air crisper. His thoughts raced ahead of his body, moving faster than the blink of an eye.
It felt as though the mind had outgrown the flesh.
Ron flexed his hand experimentally. He raised his arm before his eyes, opened and closed his fingers. The action was smooth, yet in his mind it seemed unbearably slow, as though the body lagged behind the will by several seconds.
"How strange…"
He stared at his hand, his voice calm but low. His mind could now run laps around his body, a sensation not entirely pleasant. It was like controlling a puppet through a fog of delay.
He recalled this feeling faintly from before, when his spirit had first surpassed twenty. But now it was magnified tenfold.
"Feels like… being bound," he murmured.
And yet, the realization brought no frustration. Because he knew this was not a curse, but proof of growth.
A normal body couldn't keep up with a spirit that had ascended beyond mortal limits. The imbalance was inevitable.
"So this is thirty points of spirit…"
Ron's thoughts moved like lightning. Each second birthed dozens of conclusions.
At this level, his thinking speed had surpassed physical reaction by far. If a sword came flying at him, he could calculate its trajectory, its angle, and every possible counterattack before it reached him. His body simply couldn't move fast enough to match.
For a physical fighter, this would be agony thought trapped inside flesh too slow to act. But for a mage like Ron, it was liberation.
He didn't need to swing fists or blades. His battlefield was the mind.
Wind and flame obeyed thought alone.
Still, the dissonance was uncomfortable. For a moment, he considered strengthening his body but soon realized that wasn't the answer.
No. The problem wasn't weakness of the flesh. It was his own lack of control over his expanded spirit.
His power had grown too suddenly. His soul was struggling to synchronize with its vessel.
Closing his eyes, Ron steadied his breathing. "Then I just need to adapt."
He stilled his mind, letting the waves wash away all thought. For ten minutes he sat unmoving, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow.
When he opened them again, the strange delay between body and mind had vanished.
He flexed his fingers once more. Perfect. Smooth. Natural.
"Good. Much better."
A soft smile curved his lips. The storm within had quieted. The mind and flesh were one again.
With that, he rose and stretched lazily, gazing at the horizon.
At thirty points of spirit, the difference wasn't merely mental clarity it was evolution. His thoughts flowed twice as fast as before. His memory had become photographic; a single glance at a page, and every word etched itself into his mind.
His control over magic would soon reach terrifying heights. Complex runes that once took minutes to memorize could now be understood in seconds. Even the intricate arrays required for second-tier magic would no longer daunt him.
"At last," he whispered. "Now I have the qualifications to master second-tier spells."
From this moment on, the road to greater power lay wide open.
Below deck, Nami's delighted voice echoed. "Found it! Treasure!"
Ron chuckled quietly and turned toward the stairs. "Looks like my luck's improving too."
The mage who had crossed the thirty-point threshold walked down into the crimson-stained ship the smile on his face calm, the storm in his spirit serene.
The legend of Ron, the Mage of the East Blue, was only just beginning.
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