Reality proved that pirates recover as fast as they destroy things—and celebrate even faster.
One moment it was a battlefield.
The next, it was a drunken barbecue.
On the beach, a massive bonfire crackled. A huge unknown beast—cleaved in half by Roger—was roasting over the flames, fat dripping and hissing, filling the air with rich, mouth-watering aroma.
Kyle leaned against a rock shaved flat by shockwaves, holding a wooden bowl, feeling like a broken scrap dragged along by the tide of history. Every bone in his body was screaming in protest after the day's brutal fighting.
"Couldn't we at least wait until the ship's fixed… or until I'm not half-dead?" he groaned. "Do pirates really need to throw a party everywhere they go?"
"Kuahahaha! Kids are such a pain!" Roger laughed, one arm slung around the newly recruited Gaban while gnawing on a massive drumstick. "Pirates eat meat and drink booze! Right, Gaban?"
"Damn right!" Gaban clinked cups with him. "To our fateful clash—cheers!"
Rayleigh sat by the fire polishing his sword, calmly watching what looked like two long-lost brothers reuniting.
Kyle rolled his eyes and tore off a piece of meat.
Still… damn, that's good.
He looked at the three men around the fire.
Gold.
Silver.
Copper.
Roger, Rayleigh, Gaban—the future core of a legend.
So… what was he?
A strange feeling stirred inside Kyle. Anxiety? Excitement? Or the burning desire to find his place among monsters?
I'm not being a mascot. If they're Gold, Silver, and Copper… then I'll be Iron.
"Hey, Roger," Gaban said after a long swig of liquor. "Why'd you even go to sea? You said you wanted to… change the world?"
The firelight flickered across Roger's face, softening his usual wild grin.
"A dream," he said simply. "I want to see what's at the end of this ocean. I want to do something no one's ever done."
The words were quiet—but they hit like waves.
No talk of fame.
No greed.
Just pure curiosity and ambition.
Gaban stared at him.
He wanted to see the world.
This man wanted to reach its end.
Roger elbowed Kyle. "What about you, kid? What's your dream?"
Three pairs of eyes locked onto him.
Kyle's brain went into overdrive.
World's strongest? Too much trouble.
Ruler of the seas? Sounds exhausting.
Money and girls? …Okay, tempting—no, focus!
Then he remembered something from his past life.
Red-Haired Shanks.
One line: "Give me some face."
And the whole sea backed off.
The strongest Devil Fruit isn't fire or earthquakes… it's social connections.
Kyle stood up dramatically.
"My dream…"
He paused for effect.
"…is to become the King of Connections."
"…What?"
Roger blinked.
Gaban froze.
Even Rayleigh stiffened.
"King of… what?" Gaban repeated.
Roger burst out laughing. "Kuahahaha! What kind of dream is that?!"
Kyle raised a finger.
"What's the strongest power on the seas?"
"Haki," Gaban said.
"Devil Fruits," Roger added.
"Willpower," Rayleigh said.
Kyle shook his head.
"No. It's connections. Influence. 'Face.'"
He paced in front of the fire.
"When we're in trouble, I call the Fleet Admiral and he says, 'Kyle, my man, I'll send the fleet.'
When we're broke, the richest man alive wires us money.
When we face an enemy, I walk up and say, 'Give me some face'—and they back down."
He grinned.
"I won't need to fight. The world will move for me."
Silence.
Then—
"KUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Roger nearly fell over laughing.
"That's insane! I love it!"
Gaban chuckled.
Rayleigh smiled helplessly.
"Fine," Roger declared, raising his barrel. "I'll reach the end of the world. Kyle will rule it with connections. Gaban will travel it. And Rayleigh will watch it burn!"
Four cups clinked in the firelight.
And four ridiculous dreams were born.
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