Rook locked the door and lay down in his hammock.
The translucent system panel appeared before his eyes.
“Three points of proficiency…”
“It’s completely different from before I reached the beginner level, when I was basically practicing blindly and getting half the results for twice the effort. Back then, I could only brute-force progress through my talent.”
“Now that I’ve reached Beginner, I’ve systematically grasped a complete foundation in swordsmanship. As long as I train according to the knowledge in my head, combined with the enhanced concentration provided by my talent, my progress is actually pretty fast.”
“If I can practice swordsmanship for six hours every day, I should be able to advance again in about half a month.”
“I can’t neglect Hand-to-Hand Combat either.”
“Time… I really need to squeeze every bit of it out.”
“And I need to find an opportunity to leave this place as soon as possible.”
“As long as I stay on this ship, I’ll never have enough freedom.”
After thinking for a while, the exhausted Rook finally fell asleep.
At ten the next morning, a burst of excited howling and raucous shouting woke him.
Having recovered most of his energy, Rook climbed out of bed.
The cabin was dim.
He walked over to an old clock hanging on the wall and checked the time.
Rubbing his eyes, he picked up a bottle of cheap fruit wine and took a swig to rehydrate himself.
Later, Rook headed to the ship’s dining area and grabbed two pieces of bread and an apple to fill his stomach.
The deck was already overflowing with celebration.
Several pirates were holding newspapers and freshly issued wanted posters.
Beneath the main mast, Captain Norton sat drinking with one leg crossed over the other.
He stared at his own wanted poster.
The corner of his mouth slowly curled upward into a proud, almost crazed grin.
“Rahahaha!”
“My bounty doubled!”
“I’m in a damn good mood today. Let’s hold another feast at noon!”
“LONG LIVE THE CAPTAIN!!!”
Flattering cheers immediately erupted around him.
He walked over to the pirates holding the newspaper and leaned in to take a look.
But the moment he saw the headline of the East Blue Daily, his expression immediately turned serious.
SHOCKING!
WAS THIS HORRIFIC MASSACRE REALLY COMMITTED BY THE NORTON PIRATES?!
The article described, without even needing to exaggerate, the atrocity the Norton Pirates had committed the previous evening.
Nearly the entire town of Karasi, located at the northernmost edge of the Organ Islands, had been devastated.
The incident had occurred on the evening of March 5th, 1536.
.
The exact date and time were clearly printed at the end of the headline report.
Rook’s heart grew heavy.
Then he looked toward Captain Norton’s newly issued wanted poster.
EXECUTIONER NORTON
[IMAGE.JPG]
BOUNTY: 16,000,000 BERRIES
DEAD OR ALIVE
Special Notice: This individual is considered exceptionally brutal and dangerous.
Any island that discovers his whereabouts must immediately contact the nearest Marine branch.
Rook stared at the warning printed in red.
Then at the bounty, which had directly doubled.
His sense of danger immediately shot through the roof.
They were attracting too much attention.
And in Rook’s opinion, compared with another pirate carrying a sixteen-million-Berry bounty—Kuro of a Hundred Plans, captain of the Black Cat Pirates—Captain Norton’s actual strength did not remotely match his bounty.
At that moment, Rook heard Norton and the first mate speaking nearby.
“We lost quite a few men yesterday. Looks like we’ll need to recruit again.”
“Captain, we could head to Barbarian Island.”
“It’s a lawless zone and the intersection of four major sea routes in this region.”
“There are plenty of gangs in the town, but there are also plenty of capable fighters. With your current bounty and reputation, Captain, we’ll definitely be able to recruit some strong men there.”
“Mm. That works.”
“We might as well recruit a large batch all at once. It’ll make things easier for us afterward.”
Using the newspaper as cover, Rook subtly listened to their quiet conversation.
Since bringing Swordsmanship and Hand-to-Hand Combat to Beginner, his sensory abilities had improved.
His five senses were noticeably sharper.
An opportunity!
Rook quietly sighed in relief.
The place they were talking about wasn’t particularly far away.
It should take around five or six days to reach.
When they arrived, he might finally have a chance to leave this ship.
Rook waited a little longer.
When Norton and the first mate stopped talking, he surveyed the deck and headed toward an open area near the stern.
He drew his iron sword.
Then he began training.
Again and again, he repeated the basic movements, coordinating each technique with his footwork and breathing.
The sea breeze blew across him.
Before long, sweat had soaked his clothes.
Quite a few pirates glanced over while Rook trained.
Their lips curled with mockery.
In their eyes, Rook’s swordsmanship was nothing more than the most basic garbage technique that could be learned at any random dojo.
Practically anyone on this ship could perform five or six moves like those.
As far as they were concerned, instead of wasting time practicing some useless swordsmanship, it would be far more enjoyable to gather together, gamble, boast, and drink.
A monk-like life of constant training?
They had no interest whatsoever.
From time to time, mocking voices drifted into Rook’s ears.
“Looks like the world’s greatest swordsman is about to be born on our ship!”
“Has Rook finally gone crazy?”
“I bet he won’t last more than a few days.”
Ordinary mediocrity often worked like that.
People naturally resented seeing others accomplish things they themselves couldn’t endure.
But those jokes and taunts gradually became less frequent.
Because after finishing his daily work, Rook trained for nearly ten hours every single day.
At some point, the crew began labeling him a freak.
During one meal, someone curiously asked why he was training so hard.
Rook casually laughed it off.
He said he had no money and didn’t feel like sleeping, so he trained to kill time.
After that, nobody paid much attention anymore.
Everyone understood.
After all, Rook had given all the money he had left to the first mate.
Time passed.
Rook remained aboard the pirate ship for nearly six more days.
On the sixth day—
Four in the afternoon.
In the distance, an island came into view.
A bustling port town sprawled along its coastline.
Beneath the main mast, Norton stood proudly with a captain’s coat draped across his shoulders, black fabric trimmed in gold.
“Listen up, boys!”
“We’ve arrived at Barbarian Island!”
“This captain hereby declares that we’ll remain here for three days.”
“Other than those assigned to stay aboard and guard the ship, you’re free to enjoy yourselves anywhere on the island during those three days.”
“But let me make one thing clear in advance.”
“By four in the afternoon on the third day, every last one of you had better be back aboard!”
“OOOOOOHHHH!!!”
“LONG LIVE THE CAPTAIN!”
“Hahaha! I can finally spend my money! Ladies of the red-light district, Daddy’s coming!”
“Food! Food! I’m going to eat every delicacy on this entire island!”
Excited howls erupted one after another.
Near the rear of the deck, Rook stopped swinging his sword.
He breathed heavily.
Hearing Norton’s announcement, a spark of excitement appeared in his eyes.
With a thought, the translucent system panel appeared.
Rook looked toward his Attributes.
Attributes:
Body: 8.1
Strength: 8.1
Agility: 8.1
Spirit: 10.1
Swordsmanship training exercised both body and mind.
After five days of intense, highly focused training, Rook had awakened that morning to discover that the fatigue accumulated from the previous day had finally faded.
And his attributes had quietly increased.
The sensation of unmistakably realizing that he was becoming stronger—
It felt incredible.
Rook tightened his grip on the sword hilt.
His gaze calmly swept across the still-excited pirates around him.
A strange instinctive certainty appeared within him.
He felt as though he could now take the heads of many of these men with ease.
For a moment, his mind drifted.
Without even realizing it, he seemed to have become more confident.
Was that simply what increased strength did to a person?
When a man carries a weapon, killing intent naturally follows.
Rook gently shook his head and temporarily suppressed those thoughts.
Then he looked toward his Skills.
Swordsmanship — Beginner: 5 → 59/100
Over the past six days, he had trained in swordsmanship for ten hours a day during the first five days, followed by another four hours today.
His Beginner proficiency had already passed the halfway point.
The other two skills, however, hadn’t improved at all.
Rook had decided that, rather than spreading his attention evenly between everything, it would be better to focus on Swordsmanship first.
There were too many eyes around him.
Everyone already knew that he practiced swordsmanship.
If he suddenly demonstrated equally rapid improvement in hand-to-hand combat as well, Rook worried that Norton and the other officers might begin paying too much attention to him.
During the previous five days, people had gradually realized that Rook really could maintain his insane training schedule.
Just last night, around nine—
Norton had “coincidentally” run into him.
The captain had painted him a beautiful picture of the future.
If Rook continued working hard, then once Squad Six was rebuilt, Norton would make him its captain.
At the time, Rook had deliberately stared at him in stunned disbelief.
Norton had simply smiled with satisfaction before walking away.
“What a joke.”
“You don’t give me a single tangible benefit, yet you expect me to be so grateful that I’ll throw my life away for you?”
Rook sneered inwardly.
He glanced at Norton standing proudly beneath the mast.
The captain was currently announcing which crew members would remain behind to guard the ship.
Unexpectedly—
Rook wasn’t among them.
But after thinking about it, he quickly understood.
Whether he was assigned to guard duty or not made little difference.
After all, he had no money.
And throughout the past several days, Rook had kept entirely to himself.
He didn’t form cliques or associate closely with anyone.
In Norton’s eyes, Rook was probably just an antisocial training fanatic.
Whether he was ordered to stay aboard or allowed ashore wouldn’t make much difference.
Before long, the pirate ship docked in an empty berth along the harbor.
Ships of all shapes and sizes were anchored nearby.
The gangplank came down.
Groups of two or three pirates eagerly rushed into town.
This time, however, they weren’t going ashore to pillage.
Because this town had rules of its own.
Under the brilliant sunlight, the sea breeze carried the lively atmosphere of the town toward the ship.
Rook stood beside the railing.
He watched the bustling streets filled with pedestrians.
The townspeople appeared to treat the arriving pirates as though they didn’t even exist.
But Rook could see clearly.
Disgust.
Wariness.
Fear.
Those emotions were hidden deep within their eyes.
Pirates…
They really were a group hated by both man and beast.
Especially genuine scum of the sea like the Norton Pirates.
Oh, right.
Rook suddenly remembered something.
At the moment—
He was technically one of those Norton Pirates too.
That realization immediately killed his interest in watching the crowd.
Rook returned to the stern.
Over the past several days, this area had practically become his personal training ground.
He drew his sword and resumed his practice.
Focus on the blade.
Focus on the coordination of his body’s movements.
Now that his Beginner proficiency had crossed the halfway mark, a strange sensation was gradually beginning to emerge.
When he performed those fundamental sword movements, they no longer felt as rigid as before.
A subtle finesse—
A kind of skillful application of force—
Was slowly beginning to take shape.