Year 1477 of the Sea Circle Calendar
North Blue
A fleet of eleven massive merchant ships sailed across the sea. A formation of this scale would be impossible to ignore in any of the Blues.
…
"They're here again! Run! Run as far as you can!"
"Go to the sea! The sea is vast and tolerant—there will always be a place for you in this world!"
"Don't look back, Roldy! Follow in your parents' footsteps—go and see this world for yourself!"
…
In the dim, lightless hold of a ship, a frail boy suddenly sat upright.
His ragged clothes were soaked through with cold sweat. Every bone in his body felt as if it had been torn apart by pain. His skin burned as though scorched by fire, and the heavy shackles on his wrists and ankles weighed him down. He gasped violently for air.
The boy stood roughly over eight and a half feet tall. His youthful face made it clear he was still a child, yet around his shoulders grew a ring of fur like a mantle—pure snow-white, streaked with black strands. It had gone unkempt for far too long and looked grimy. His features were sharply defined; though still a child, there were already traces of striking handsomeness about him. Solid muscles covered his body—an extraordinary physique for an eight-year-old.
His name was Roldy—Fit Roldy.
A descendant of the Mink Tribe.
"What… happened?"
He muttered weakly, his voice hoarse like a worn-out bellows. Using the faint glimmer of light around him, he surveyed his surroundings. His body suddenly stiffened.
Slowly, trembling, he raised a hand and touched the object blocking him—
Cold iron bars.
It all came rushing back.
That nightmare… hadn't been a dream at all.
It had truly happened.
To outsiders, he had always been a freakish child. He lived with the aunt who raised him on a small island in the North Blue. She was an utterly ordinary woman—yet she had taken in a child over two meters tall at the age of eight. Naturally, there had been gossip.
There are villains everywhere in this world. But most of the island's residents had been kind enough—or at least tolerant enough—to let a "freak" like him live there. The fruit shop lady, the fishmonger uncle, the gentle mayor… they had all treated him well.
Life had been happy.
But in the North Blue—known as one of the most chaotic of the Four Blues—evil was never far away.
Creak—
The cabin door opened with a harsh groan. A piercing beam of light cut into the darkness, and Roldy instinctively narrowed his eyes, long unaccustomed to brightness.
Several men in sailor outfits entered, swords and flintlock pistols hanging at their waists. They pushed carts loaded with supplies. When they saw Roldy awake, surprise flickered across their faces.
"Well, well? As expected of a Mink—woke up pretty fast!"
A burly man chuckled maliciously as he pushed a cart forward and placed a heap of food before Roldy's cage.
"Kid, hungry? Don't hold back. It's all yours."
The food was lavish—far more luxurious than anything Roldy had ever eaten.
Juices dripped from a perfectly grilled steak, filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma. White rice balls were piled like a small hill. There was even a bowl of soup and a plate of fresh fruit.
Compared to the hard bread he used to gnaw on, this was heaven and earth apart.
But Roldy's gaze lingered on the feast for only a moment.
Looking at the man's disgusting grin, he suddenly lunged forward viciously. His powerful body slammed against the iron cage with a loud clang, his long arms stretching out—just inches away from grabbing the man's throat.
The burly man jumped back in fright. Regaining his senses, he angrily drew the flintlock pistol from his waist.
"Brat, you looking to suffer?"
Killing the boy was out of the question. Minks were worth a fortune. As slave traders, they had finally gotten their hands on such valuable merchandise. Someone of this caliber could even be presented to the Celestial Dragons.
Because of that, the boy was receiving the highest level of treatment—lavish meals even the crew couldn't enjoy, and a private cage instead of being crammed together with other slaves. The holds containing ordinary captives were packed with over a hundred people.
"You bastards! What did you do to my aunt?! What did you do to everyone in town?! Answer me!"
Seeing the face of a frightened young beast, the burly man instinctively took a step back. A chill crept up his spine.
But almost immediately, embarrassment turned into anger. He was a seasoned slave trader—he had more than a hundred lives on his hands. And yet he'd been startled by a child?
Even if that child didn't look like he was eight.
The man grabbed a wooden club nearby and brought it down hard against Roldy's arm with a heavy thud.
The pain shot through Roldy's body—but instead of fear, it only fueled his rage.
"Hey, York! Are you crazy? If you damage this brat, the boss will toss you into the sea to feed the fish! Don't forget—he's our ticket to promotion and riches!"
York's companion hurriedly stopped him. His cart was loaded with high-grade medicine. Roldy was already covered in fine wounds; as merchandise, that clearly lowered his value.
"Don't forget the intel we paid good money for! That noble loves furry things! This kid's got good looks—he'll definitely catch that noble's eye!"
"Hmph!"
York snorted, clearly dissatisfied. But soon, a malicious grin spread across his face.
"Kid… want to know what happened to those people?"
That smile filled Roldy with dread.
Sure enough, York's next words dragged him into boundless despair.
"They're all dead! Just a bunch of powerless civilians—they should've handed over their supplies obediently! Trying to resist was pure stupidity! On this sea, strength is everything!"
"As for that woman who protected you… heh…"
York didn't finish his sentence. That revolting grin was enough.
The blow he had dealt to Roldy's arm was merely pain. But those unspoken implications cut far deeper, slicing into his heart.
A beast-like growl rumbled from Roldy's throat. His hands clamped onto the iron bars of his cage. Scarlet flooded his vision. The innate power of the Mink Tribe surged through him, driving him into a frenzy.
The cage, forged from refined iron, might as well have been paper in his grip.
With a burst of strength, he tore it apart.
"You deserve to die!"
Like a wild beast breaking free, Roldy lunged at York. Standing over two meters tall, he towered a full head above the man. His massive hands locked around York's throat.
Everything happened too quickly for York or his companion to react.
"You brat—!"
The other man hurriedly drew his pistol—
—and was splashed with sudden warmth.
He saw it happen.
A head, like a smashed watermelon, hit the floor with a dull thud—then was crushed to pieces beneath a shackled foot.
Blood sprayed into the air.
Bathed in crimson, Roldy tore off the rest of his shackles. His eyes burned with unrestrained killing intent.
"This kind of strength… how is this possible?!"
The cage had been made of solid refined iron—the most practical kind. It wasn't as expensive as cages reinforced with Seastone, but it was enough to restrain ninety-nine percent of slaves. They had even captured powerful races before—Fish-Men, for example—and none of them possessed such monstrous strength.
There was no time to think.
A massive shadow rushed toward him at terrifying speed. The man fired twice in panic. One shot missed; the other struck Roldy in the shoulder.
But Roldy moved as though he felt no pain.
His enormous frame slammed into the man, knocking him to the ground. What followed was savage and merciless.
Flesh and blood flew.
"M-Monster!"
The last surviving crewman had completely lost his nerve. His legs trembled violently; his weapon slipped from his grasp. Ignoring his companion's horrific screams, he turned and fled without hesitation, scrambling on all fours toward the cabin exit.
Sunlight washed over him as he burst outside, bringing a fragile sense of relief—but he didn't dare stop. He slammed the cabin door shut and bolted toward the deck.
Even on deck, he could still faintly hear the bone-chilling roars from below.
Without pausing, he rushed toward the captain's quarters.
"Cap—Captain! S-something's happened!"
Overwhelmed by terror, he didn't stop to wonder why the deck was empty. Why no one had come to investigate the gunshots.
He ran for what felt like forever before finally spotting someone.
Thank goodness—it was their vice captain!
Second only to the captain himself, the powerhouse of their crew—"Bear Claw" Barr, with a bounty of 17,000,000 Berries!
"Vice Captain! Something's wrong!"
Panting heavily, he braced his hands on his knees, gulping down air.
But no reply came.
"Vice Captain! It's serious! Really serious!"
He emphasized it this time.
A heavy fist smashed into his head.
"Idiot! I've got eyes! Of course I know!"
The vice captain's voice was deep and rough—almost like the growl of a bear.
"What do you mean you know? It's in the hold—"
The man was about to protest. He had locked the cabin door himself!
But as he straightened and followed the vice captain's gaze toward the distant sea, the blood drained from his face.
Oh.
There really was trouble.
On the horizon, three ships bearing pirate flags had appeared.
And on those great sails… there seemed to be several large letters painted across them.
Starting with an "R."
What kind of pirate crew could that be?
Hard to guess.