Mary Geoise — The Holy Land Deep beneath the radiant splendor of Holy Land Mary Geoise, far below the reach of sunlight, Ethan Vale sat alone in a damp stone cell and listened to people scream.
The sound rolled endlessly through the underground corridors.
Raw.
Broken.
Animalistic.
Every cry twisted tighter around his chest.
It had been less than a month since he arrived in this world.
One moment, he’d been an ordinary man on Earth.
The next, he woke inside the body of a teenage boy, was captured by traffickers at Sabaody Archipelago, and sold into slavery at Mary Geoise.
And now— he was waiting to receive the mark of the Celestial Dragons.
The Hoof of the Soaring Dragon.
“Damn it…” Ethan leaned his head against the cold wall and let out a slow, uneven breath.
Other transmigrators got systems.
Overpowered bloodlines.
Ancient inheritances.
He got branded like cattle.
The stench of scorched flesh drifted through the prison block.
Even after everything he’d endured in his previous life, Ethan couldn’t stay calm in a place like this.
Fear crawled through his nerves on instinct, impossible to suppress.
Across from him, three girls sat together inside the neighboring cell.
All around his age.
Unlike Ethan, they looked unnervingly composed, as though they had already adapted to this living hell.
One had broad shoulders and short green hair.
Another was lean, with long brown hair tied behind her back.
The smallest of the three had black hair and an air of cold authority that overshadowed the others entirely.
Even sitting quietly in chains, she carried herself like someone born to command.
Her eyes shifted toward Ethan.
“You’re new.” Her voice was cool and steady.
“When they take you out later, don’t scream.
No matter how much it hurts, endure it.” Her gaze darkened slightly.
“If you irritate those monsters, they’ll make sure you regret it.” Ethan met her eyes and nodded.
“Thanks.” The girl’s expression eased by the slightest degree.
Outside, the screaming gradually died down, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
After a while, the tension inside the cells loosened enough for conversation.
“What’s your name?” the black-haired girl asked.
“Ethan Vale.” He paused before adding: “And stop calling me ‘kid.’ You don’t look any older than I am.” One of her brows lifted.
“Ethan Vale?
Strange name.” Then a smug smile curved across her lips.
“I’m Boa Hancock.
You may call me Big Sister Hancock… kid.” She deliberately stressed the last word.
Under normal circumstances, Ethan would’ve argued back immediately.
But his thoughts had already ground to a halt.
Boa Hancock?
The future Pirate Empress.
The realization hit him instantly.
She was still a slave in Mary Geoise.
That meant the current timeline was at least thirteen years before canon—possibly earlier, depending on when Fisher Tiger would attack the Holy Land.
Ethan’s expression stiffened.
Escaping Mary Geoise was already close to impossible.
Escaping as a powerless slave?
That was pure fantasy.
The weight of it settled over him like chains.
Helpless.
Powerless.
Completely at the mercy of others.
Just as Ethan was about to ask Hancock for more information, heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Drawing closer.
The guards.
Hancock’s expression changed immediately.
“Ethan,” she said quietly, “whatever happens, hold on.” Ethan forced out a thin smile.
Then— BOOM!
The cell door exploded inward.
A towering man stepped through the dust and darkness.
He wore a black uniform, his face hidden beneath a hood that made him look more executioner than guard.
Ethan steadied his breathing, refusing to show fear.
The man didn’t say a word.
He simply grabbed Ethan by the collar, lifted him effortlessly off the ground, and examined him the way someone might inspect livestock.
Then he dragged him out into the corridor.
Behind him, Hancock watched in silence, fists clenched tightly at her sides.
She had seen too many slaves die here because a guard became “bored.” Humans especially.
The rare races at least possessed value.
Killing them could invite punishment.
But ordinary humans?
Nobody cared.
A few minutes later, Ethan was chained upright beside a massive furnace.
Flames roared behind the iron grating.
Inside the coals, a branding iron glowed a vicious orange-red.
One of the guards pulled it free.
The metal hissed violently in the air.
Then the man approached with a grin full of malice.
Ethan stared back at him like a wounded beast cornered to death.
And strangely— the fear disappeared.
What remained was fury.
The guard chuckled.
“I’ve seen eyes like yours before.” He raised the branding iron.
“None of them lasted long.” Then he drove the iron into Ethan’s chest.
The initial contact lasted only an instant.
The pain that followed was beyond description.
Heat exploded through his flesh.
His body convulsed violently against the chains, muscles trembling hard enough to tear skin open.
The smell of burning flesh filled the room.
But somehow— he didn’t scream.
An invisible force seemed to hold his mind together by sheer will alone.
He kept staring at the guard.
Kept glaring at him.
Blood vessels burst across his eyes, turning them crimson with hatred so intense it bordered on madness.
For the first time, the guard’s smile faltered.
Something about that gaze unsettled him.
Instinctively, he took a step back.
Then he realized— Ethan had already lost consciousness.
“Tch.
Thought you were tougher than that.” The guard snorted dismissively.
“Collapsed pretty fast.” But Ethan never heard him.
Because his consciousness had already arrived somewhere else.
A palace.
Ancient beyond comprehension.
Vast enough to feel infinite.
The structure towered like the remains of a civilization no mortal empire could ever hope to rival.
Yet despite its grandeur, decay covered everything.
Cracked stone.
Collapsed pillars.
Fractured carvings weathered by countless ages.
The air itself carried the weight of endless time.
At the center of the palace stood rows upon rows of thrones stretching endlessly into darkness.
Most were destroyed.
Broken apart.
Abandoned.
Only twelve remained intact.
And among them, the two central thrones emitted a deep crimson glow, like fresh blood staining ancient stone.
One throne was occupied.
A figure sat there silently.
Then slowly rose.
Through the dim crimson light, the two locked eyes.
Both froze.
Shock erupted across their faces at the exact same moment.
Because they looked identical.
Not merely similar.
Identical.
The instant their eyes met, an indescribable sensation surged through Ethan’s soul.
Warmth.
Recognition.
Connection.
Not strangers.
The same existence.
Fragments of memory exploded into Ethan’s mind— memories that were not his own.
At the same time, the other Ethan clearly experienced the same phenomenon.
The two stood motionless while foreign memories fused together inside their minds.
Finally, the other Ethan spoke first.
“So there really is another me in a different world…” Ethan frowned as he processed the flood of information.
“Our soul probably shattered during transmigration.” His eyes swept across the endless palace.
“And this place… this Soul Palace… is what connects all of us.” The other Ethan nodded slowly.
Then Pirate-World Ethan blinked.
“You ended up in the Naruto world?” The other version gave a tired laugh.
“Yeah.
And I arrived way too early.” He rubbed his forehead helplessly.
“So early that all my knowledge of canon is basically useless.” Pirate-World Ethan sighed.
“I’m thirteen years before canon myself.
Currently a slave in Mary Geoise.” “Oof.” The other Ethan grimaced.
“Alright, that’s definitely worse than my situation.” Then he added dryly: “At least I’m not enslaved.” Pirate-World Ethan narrowed his eyes.
“How early are you talking?” The other Ethan suddenly looked exhausted.
“I don’t know the exact year.” A brief silence passed.
Then he said: “But the Hidden Villages haven’t been established yet.” Silence.
Pirate-World Ethan’s eyes widened sharply.
“No way…” “The Warring States Era?” The other Ethan nodded.
“In the Shinobi World…” He straightened slightly.
“My name is Senju Ethan.”