The humidity of the Baterilla jungle was a direct, personal insult to bespoke tailoring.
I stood in the center of a dense, mosquito-infested clearing.
My polished black dress shoes sank a full inch into the wet, foul-smelling mud.
My pristine grey suit jacket was clinging uncomfortably to my shoulders.
The air was so violently thick with moisture that drawing a breath felt exactly like inhaling warm soup.
‘If I ever find the Marine quartermaster who suggested heavy wool blends for tropical deployments,’ my mind calculated lazily as I swatted a massive bug away from the brim of my fedora, ‘I am going to systematically dismantle his kneecaps.
This climate is a biological tragedy.
I am sweating.
I actively despise sweating.’
A few dozen yards away, the sounds of a catastrophic natural disaster echoed continuously through the jungle canopy.
Trees were being violently uprooted.
Massive stone boulders were shattering into fine dust.
Vice Admiral Garp was currently busy dismantling the main forces of the Vanguard Pirates, a rookie crew that had been causing an unprecedented amount of trouble in the South Blue.
Normally, a rookie crew in the South Blue wouldn’t warrant the deployment of the Hero of the Marines.
But the captain of the Vanguard Pirates, a young man who called himself Silver-Eye Jax, possessed a terrifying tactical advantage.
He had successfully predicted three separate Marine ambushes.
He had known the exact patrol routes of the local bases.
He had even avoided an encounter with an Admiral by altering his sailing route three days in advance.
Vice Admiral Tsuru had reviewed the tactical data and determined that Jax’s predictive capabilities were mathematically impossible.
She concluded he either possessed a highly advanced Observation Haki, or a Devil Fruit strictly related to foresight.
Therefore, she had deployed Garp to act as an unpredictable, chaotic variable.
She then deployed me to ensure the target did not escape in the ensuing collateral damage.
Which was exactly why I was currently standing in the mud, completely ignoring the battle, waiting at the precise geometric coordinates of the island’s only hidden cove.
‘The target is a coward,’ my assassin’s instincts noted with cold administrative satisfaction.
‘While his crew engages the giant, he will utilize the distraction to flee toward his secondary vessel.
The geography of this island dictates this is the only viable escape route.’
Right on schedule, the dense jungle foliage violently rustled.
A young man burst into the clearing, panting heavily.
He looked to be in his late teens, wearing an unnecessarily flashy red captain’s coat and carrying a high-grade cutlass.
His eyes darted around frantically.
His face was pale with sheer terror as the sound of Garp’s boisterous laughter echoed in the distance behind him.
He took three rapid steps toward the hidden cove before he finally noticed me standing perfectly still in the mud, blocking his path.
Captain Jax froze.
He looked at my tailored grey suit, my fedora casting a dark shadow over my eyes, and the black wooden scabbard resting comfortably at my hip.
“Move out of the way, kid,” Jax sneered, drawing his cutlass.
He projected a heavy facade of bravado, but his hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“I don’t have time to deal with Marine cabin boys. I have a destiny to fulfill. I’m going to the Grand Line!”
‘He talks entirely too much,’ I thought, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
‘Forward momentum is required to subdue him.
Forward momentum is cardio.
I really hate my job.’
“I am a Warrant Officer,” I corrected him, my voice a flat, deadpan drawl that barely carried over the buzzing insects.
“And your destiny currently involves being processed at a high-security detention facility. Please drop the weapon. If I have to walk over there to take it from you, I will be very annoyed.”
Jax laughed, a desperate, hysterical sound that grated on my nerves.
“You think you can stop me? I know everything! I know how this era ends! I have the foresight! I am the main character of this sea!”
‘He suffers from profound delusions of grandeur,’ my mind analyzed.
The cold static of the Absolute Murderer slowly woke up from its heat-induced lethargy.
‘He views himself as the center of the universe.
This makes his attack patterns highly predictable.’
Jax lunged forward.
He swung his cutlass in a wide, flashy overhead arc.
It was a terrible technique.
It was entirely designed to look impressive rather than be mathematically efficient.
I didn’t draw my sword.
I didn’t even shift my stance.
I simply waited until the cutlass was exactly three inches from my face, and then I casually raised my left hand.
The heavy steel stopped completely, as if it had struck a solid wall of iron.
Jax’s eyes widened in absolute shock.
He pulled frantically on the hilt, but the sword wouldn’t budge a single millimeter.
“Your center of gravity is pitched too far forward,” I noted lazily, applying exactly forty pounds of pressure to the steel blade.
With a sharp, echoing snap, the high-grade cutlass shattered perfectly in half.
Before Jax could process the destruction of his weapon, I pivoted slightly on my right heel.
I brought the heavy black butt of my wooden scabbard upward, striking him precisely under the ribcage.
I didn’t use Armament Haki.
I just applied enough blunt kinetic force to completely paralyze his diaphragm.
Jax collapsed into the mud, violently gasping for air that his lungs refused to process.
He curled into a tight fetal position, his flashy red coat instantly ruined by the swamp water.
I looked down at him, entirely unimpressed.
‘Threat neutralized,’ I calculated, brushing a tiny speck of mud off my sleeve.
‘He possesses no advanced Haki.
He possesses no Devil Fruit.
Tsuru’s tactical assessment was flawed.
This man is simply an idiot with a talent for guessing.’
I reached into my pocket, pulled out a pair of heavy seastone handcuffs, and crouched down to secure his wrists.
As I grabbed his arm, Jax managed to force a ragged, wet wheeze of air into his lungs.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at me.
His eyes locked onto my fedora, then down to my black scabbard, and finally, up to my deadpan, apathetic face.
The look of physical pain in his eyes was suddenly replaced by a look of profound, mind-breaking confusion.
“Wait,” Jax choked out, spitting blood into the mud.
“The fedora… the grey suit… the sword. You… you’re Bogard?”
I paused, holding the handcuffs open.
“That is my name, yes. Now please hold still. Handcuffing a thrashing suspect burns unnecessary calories.”
“No… no, this is impossible,” Jax stammered.
His eyes were wide with absolute, terrifying realization.
He wasn’t looking at me like I was a Marine anymore.
He was looking at me like I was a glitch in reality.
“You’re Bogard,” Jax repeated frantically, coughing violently.
“But you’re just a kid! You’re what, fourteen? Fifteen? This is completely wrong! The timeline is broken!”
My hands stopped moving entirely.
The cold, administrative static in my brain instantly went dead silent.
“According to the plot,” Jax wheezed, his voice dropping to a desperate, hysterical whisper.
“You don’t even have Haki yet! You’re supposed to be a background character! You don’t get strong until the Golden Age! You’re too young according to the plot! How did you just shatter my sword?!”
I froze.
The word echoed in my skull with the force of a falling mountain.
Plot.
He didn’t say destiny.
He didn’t say prophecy.
He specifically used the word plot.
‘He knows about the timeline,’ my mind calculated.
The realization hit me with a terrifying, absolute clarity.
‘He knows about the Golden Age.
He knows my identity as a background fixture in a story that hasn’t happened yet.
Tsuru was wrong.
He doesn’t have foresight.’
I looked down at the bleeding pirate in the mud.
‘He is exactly like me.
He is a transmigrator.
He is from my old world.’
For four entire years, I had assumed I was the only anomaly in this universe.
I had built an entire psychological framework around surviving this cartoonish, physics-defying reality as a solitary glitch.
And now, lying in the mud in front of me, was living proof that the barrier between worlds was a revolving door.
“You…” Jax gasped.
His eyes lit up with a sudden, desperate hope as he saw the flicker of recognition in my dead eyes. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“You’re from Earth too, aren’t you? Bro, you have to help me! I have the System! I’m supposed to be a Yonko! If we team up, we can break the whole story!”
I stared at him in complete silence.
He was loud.
He was ambitious.
He wanted to break the story.
He wanted to conquer the seas.
He was the exact definition of a highly motivated, chaos-inducing protagonist.
If I let him live, he would cause global wars.
He would attract Admirals.
He would generate a literal mountain of administrative paperwork.
He would actively require me to do extreme amounts of cardio just to keep up with his plot-driven nonsense.
He was a direct threat to my nap schedule.
My thumb pressed against the iron tsuba of my katana.
Click.
The blade slid exactly half an inch out of the scabbard.
The red mist of the Absolute Murderer didn’t just leak out; it snapped forward with cold, surgical, utterly terrifying precision.
“I have no interest in the plot,” I whispered deadpan, my voice completely devoid of any human empathy.
“And you are being far too loud.”
I didn’t even draw the sword.
I just let the conceptual weight of the half-inch of exposed steel fall directly onto his geometric coordinates.
Captain Silver-Eye Jax, the ambitious transmigrator who was going to conquer the world, simply ceased speaking.
His head detached cleanly from his shoulders, sliding softly into the mud with a quiet squelch.
I clicked the sword shut.
‘Anomaly eliminated,’ I calculated, feeling absolutely nothing as I stood up and wiped the mud from my knees.
‘I refuse to share a universe with an ambitious teenager.
The noise complaints alone would be intolerable.’
I turned around, preparing to walk back toward the beach and find a comfortable rock to sleep on until Garp was finished with his workout.
But as I took my first step, the world around me entirely stopped.
The buzzing of the mosquitos vanished.
The rustling of the jungle leaves froze in mid-air.
The distant sounds of Garp shattering boulders faded into absolute, terrifying silence.
The vibrant colors of the jungle washed out entirely, turning into a flat, monochromatic grey.
I stood frozen, entirely unable to move a single muscle.
‘Status: Paralyzed,’ my brain calculated frantically.
The Absolute Murderer roared in panic against an invisible, overwhelming force that weighed heavier than gravity itself.
‘No hostiles detected.
The fabric of reality is currently paused.
This is a conceptual lockdown.’
Directly in front of my eyes, a line of glowing, soft white text materialized in the empty air.
It didn’t belong to the system in my head.
It possessed a completely different, infinitely heavier weight.
It felt like the universe itself was speaking directly into my optic nerves.
[ Foreign anomaly terminated. Timeline integrity preserved. ]
I stared at the glowing words, my deadpan expression faltering for the first time in years.
The text slowly dissolved into light, instantly replaced by a new, singular line that burned brightly in the frozen grey jungle.
[ The Will of the World offers its gratitude. First reward granted: Absolute Concealment. ]
Author’s Note Drags myself back to the keyboard with a cup of cold coffee…
Typing_In_My_Sleep here.
Quick heads-up before you read: there are certain plot elements and themes I wanted to explore that technically aren’t allowed to be written about directly in standard fanfiction on this platform.
But don’t worry—I didn’t cut them.
Instead, I’ve twisted, disguised, and woven them into the narrative in a way that keeps the core story completely intact, deeply interesting, and safe for everyone.
Consider it a creative workaround.
So, buckle your seatbelts, because it might be a bit of a wild, brain-melting ride to process once everything starts clicking together.
Alright, my brain is officially fried from outsmarting platform guidelines.
Back to my nap… enjoy the chapter!