It didn't take long to tail the CP agents to the royal palace. I didn't go inside—just spread my Observation Haki from the shadows.
Seriously? The palace guards were that useless? The agents slipped into the inner quarters like it was market day. The patrols were thicker around another great hall—likely where the king stayed. But the agents weren't moving toward the king. Hunting something else, then? Hm. Keep following.
I drifted in after them, silent as mist. A few stronger auras flickered nearby. Heh—perfect.
I flicked a pebble with my fingers. Tock. It smacked squarely between a CP agent's shoulder blades.
"Ah!"
"Who's there? Who dares infiltrate the palace?!"
And just like that—two groups collided. Steel rang. I hooked one leg over the other and watched, thoroughly entertained.
Now this is a show. The two sides were evenly matched, and with the kingdom troops closing in from all sides, those agents weren't getting out any time soon.
"Well, since I'm already at the palace…" I stretched. "Not paying the treasury a visit would be an insult to all my hard work tonight."
Action beats intention. I slipped down the rear steps. A squad of kingdom guards rounded a corner—and I let a pulse of Conqueror's Haki roll out. They collapsed like wheat in a gale. I left the captain standing, blade resting cold against his neck.
"The treasury. Where?"
"B–behind the princess's bedchamber," he stammered, pointing.
I tapped his temple with the flat of my sword, dropping him, then moved through the squad one by one, making sure none of them would be waking—or talking—anytime soon.
Three turns later, I slid into the princess's rooms. "Good grief—that's the princess?" She was… magnificently round, snoring through the racket outside. Impressive dedication to sleep.
No storeroom in sight. "Secret mechanism, then."
A few minutes of searching, and my heel pressed a sunken brick in the corner. A panel shifted. A hidden door yawned open.
"Now that's rich." Chests of treasure sat piled high, coins and gems spilled across the floor like stardust.
"Shame I don't have a storage ring…"
I scanned the room and spotted two small lacquered cases. No need to guess—Devil Fruits. I cracked them open. Sure enough: two fruits. One looked like an apple, one like a banana.
Paramecia and Zoan, I thought, flipping open the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia I'd just found on a shelf—alongside what looked like a set of ship blueprints. I skimmed the plates until the carvings matched.
Paramecia—Cold-Cold Fruit.
Zoan, Bird-Bird Fruit, Ancient Zoan—Golden Eagle Model.
Not bad at all. The Cold-Cold Fruit's a step below the Ice-Ice Fruit, but still useful. And an Ancient Zoan Golden Eagle? Rare and valuable. Perfect for future crewmates.
Still, why were CP agents here? It wasn't for fruits. The World Government has Devil Fruits to burn—Celestial Dragons feed them to slaves for sport.
I tucked away the encyclopedia, the blueprints, and both fruits, sealed the vault, and ghosted back out of the palace.
A very good night.
I slipped through my inn-room window, set the two fruit cases down, double-wrapped everything, and hid the haul. Then I faceplanted into bed. Staying up late makes you bald. Sleep.
Morning. I cracked the window and checked the street. No panic, no dragnets. They must have recognized the infiltrators as World Government agents and decided to swallow the humiliation. What can they do—file a polite complaint at the Reverie?
I grabbed breakfast, wandered the streets, picked up three outfits each for Mom and Dad, then went to find Captain Dylan. The fruit cargo was sold; most of the crew was out buying supplies. Dylan was toasting a few merchants.
"Yo, Karl! Sleep well?"
"Like a log. Captain, I bought some things for my parents. Please take them back—and tell them not to worry. I'll take care of myself."
"Will do. Come—now that you're a grown man, have a drink."
"Cheers!"
We drank straight through to afternoon. The procurement teams returned, but the goods were too many to haul today—delivery tomorrow.
A bit dizzy, I headed for the inn—where the landlady proceeded to take… significant liberties. She even tried to shove my hand into her so-called "Will of D," all while groping my chest. Took everything I had to politely refuse her "care." Terrifying. The Will of D is fearsome indeed.
I slept until hunger gnawed me awake. At the door, I hesitated—then opted for the window again. Safer that way. One blur later I was on the opposite rooftop, down into the alley, then off to my usual restaurant.
Same joint, same table, same lineup of dishes. Same bill: two hundred thousand beli. Painful… but delicious. Thinking of the Holy Mountain's vault soothed me. Plenty of money. Spend with confidence. Heh.
Toothpick in my mouth, I strolled the streets. With a Marine branch less than two hours away, the city stayed orderly. Even pirates resupplied here without causing trouble.
The Marines are a contradiction. Call them "justice," and they'll still carry out a Buster Call to wipe out innocents on a whim from the World Government. Call them unjust, and you ignore the officers who really do protect common folk.
Whatever. Blame the Celestial Dragons for everything. I'm no savior. This world's protagonist is Luffy. I'll wait for him to boot Im off the throne.
I'd skipped the tavern so far—time to change that and fish for intel. I ducked down another street.
"One rum," I told the barkeep, sliding onto a stool.
"Right away!"
The place was loud—a chorus about infamous pirate crews, how much treasure the Pirate King actually found, and which district's ladies were the most… flavorful last night.
I drank and listened. Entertaining—if not enlightening. No would-be bandit king swaggered over to pick a fight either. Which was fine. Not every mountain bandit is a Higuma.
Half a day later, I gave up on useful intel and went back to the inn, planning my route. The next island was Monlan, two days away. If all went smooth, I'd reach Reverse Mountain in about half a month. Plenty of time.
At dawn, I headed to the port to see Captain Dylan off. Sacks of supplies were being loaded. I finally spotted Jason—the navigator who'd seemingly vanished since we docked.
"Morning, Uncle Jason. Where've you been these days?"
"Grown-up business. You'll understand later. How's your ship?"
"Few more days. It's all arranged."
"Good. Look after yourself out there."
"I will. Where's Captain Dylan?"
"In the hold, stowing cargo with the crew."
An hour later, the last crate slid into place.
"Karl," Dylan called, "we're casting off. I spoke to Beck about your ship—just go to him when it's ready."
"Thanks, Captain. Tell my parents not to worry. I'll come home once I find Sis."
"Understood. We're off!"
I watched the anchor rise and the great hull ease from the harbor. Only when it vanished on the horizon did I turn back.
"Lonely already, huh," I muttered. "From here on, it's just me."
The next few days, I ate, slept, drank, and—occasionally—flirted back at the landlady. Confidence breeds courage, what can I say.
On the last morning, I shouldered my pack to leave. The landlady's eyes were wet as she called me heartless. I winced… then reminded myself: I didn't do anything to her. She's the one who took liberties. Case closed.
I reached the shipyard and found Beck on the slipway. "Uncle Beck! How's my ship?"
"Come have a look." He patted the hull of a sleek, mid-small sailboat. "Four cabins below, two bath rooms, a kitchen and storeroom. I installed the icebox. And, per your request, grass carpet on the deck. Go aboard."
I toured the cabins, touched the rail. "Perfect. I'm very satisfied."
I paid the balance and eased her out of the dock. One last stop at the port for the provisions I'd arranged yesterday. The suppliers were waiting; I paid in full and loaded everything into the hold.
A final checklist. Food, water, spare sails, rope, medicine, tools. All in.
I set my Log Pose in its cradle, caught the breeze, and smiled at the open water ahead.
Reverse Mountain—here I come.
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