The air tasted of iron and rotting seaweed.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Arthur swung slightly, his wrists raw beneath rusted shackles. His toes brushed the slime of a stone floor.
He shouldn't be here. He should be dead, buried under the debris of a Swiss vault.
A flicker of obsidian light sparked in his vision.
[Infinite Evolution Authority System Initialized]
Host Status: Critical Debt.
Vitality: 12%
"Debt..." Arthur croaked. "Even in the afterlife, the collectors find me."
The Arrival
The heavy iron door groaned. Two shadows stretched across the cell.
"Still silent, Number 742?"
A man in a velvet coat stepped into the light. Vane. The man who ran this dungeon for the underworld brokers. Behind him loomed a giant with a meat cleaver.
"You're a waste of space," Vane sneered. He flicked a gold coin. "And I hate bad investments."
Arthur didn't look at the coin. He looked at the air above Vane's head.
[Target: Vane 'The Accountant']
Potential detected: High (Future Haki Master)
Authority Action: [Harvest Potential?]
Cost: 10 Days of Life Span.
Do it, Arthur thought.
A sharp pang stabbed his chest.
[Processing... Success]
Life Span Remaining: 32 Days.
Acquired: 'The Eye of Calculation' (Neural Evolution).
The Shift
The world shifted.
The giant's breathing became a rhythm. The dripping water became a countdown. Vane's hand moved to his pistol—to Arthur, it looked like it was moving through syrup.
"I have a tip for you, Vane," Arthur said, his voice a jagged blade.
Vane paused, his finger on the trigger. "A tip?"
"The 'Red Silk' shipment you lost? It wasn't a storm. It was a shift in the 4th Meridian," Arthur interrupted. "Your navigators are amateurs. Kill me, and you lose the next three fleets."
Silence filled the cell.
Vane stepped closer, his face inches from Arthur's. "You're smart. But smart men are hard to control." He glanced at the giant. "Cut out his tongue. We only need his brain."
The Counter-Strike
The cleaver whistled through the air.
Arthur didn't panic. He saw the trajectory. A simple vector. He swung his legs up.
Clang!
The shackles caught the blade. Using the momentum, Arthur twisted.
Crunch. The giant's wrist snapped like a dry twig.
"Useless!" Vane screamed, pulling his flintlock.
Arthur dived. Bang! The bullet grazed his shoulder.
3.2 seconds, Arthur calculated. That's his reload time. He lunged for a sharpened stone hidden in the corner. Slice.
Vane shrieked, clutching his Achilles tendon. He hit the floor, blood staining his velvet coat. Arthur was on him in a heartbeat, pressing the stone shard against Vane's throat.
"I don't want your money, Vane," Arthur whispered. "I want your future."
[Initiating: Identity Erasure]
Vane's Future Status: [Null]
Host Gain: [Strategic Foresight - Rank F]
Vane's eyes went dull. The fire of ambition vanished. He was a hollow shell.
The Betrayal
Arthur unlocked his chains. He stood, shaky but free. He stripped the velvet coat from Vane and threw it over his rags.
"Arthur-san?"
A boy stood at the door. Ren. He was a thin kid, another slave who had been sneaking Arthur bread for weeks.
"We're leaving," Arthur said.
Ren's eyes filled with tears. "You did it... You really did it!"
They sprinted through the damp corridors. The docks were ahead. One boat remained. But a figure stood in their way.
A man in a black cloak. A massive cross-shaped sword on his back. His eyes were like a hawk's, piercing the fog.
Dracule Mihawk. The greatest swordsman in the world. And he was twelve years too early.
[WARNING: EXTREME THREAT]
Entity: Mihawk.
Survival Probability: 0.02%
Arthur froze. "What is a man like you doing in a hole like this?"
Mihawk didn't draw his sword. He stared at Arthur. "I followed a scent. The scent of something that shouldn't exist in this timeline."
Arthur felt a cold sweat.
"Arthur-san," Ren whispered behind him.
"Stay back, Ren," Arthur commanded.
"No," Ren said. His voice had changed. It was no longer a boy's voice. It was cold. Robotic. "You shouldn't have eaten the bread, Arthur."
Arthur felt a sharp sting in his lower back. A poisoned needle.
He stumbled, his vision blurring. Ren stood next to Mihawk. The boy's eyes were glowing with a faint, obsidian light—the same color as Arthur's System.
"The System chose you to be the King," Ren smiled, his face twisting into something monstrous. "But it chose me to be the Executioner if you failed the first test."
Ren looked at Mihawk. "Kill him. He's no longer efficient."
Mihawk's hand gripped the hilt of his black blade.
[TO BE CONTINUED]