The sight before me was exactly the kind of clusterfuck I'd been trying to avoid since arriving in this godforsaken world but always, somehow, find myself back to.
The Krieg Pirates, standing on the debris of their shattered ship like some demented naval ballet, were charging toward the Baratie with weapons gleaming and bloodlust practically radiating from their pores.
The debris they were using as makeshift rafts bobbed and weaved under their feet, but these weren't your average desperate refugees.
These were hardened criminals who'd probably killed more people than I'd talked to in my entire antisocial high school career.
The desperation in their eyes was palpable – the kind that made men do stupid, reckless things. It made me forget about Roronoa's fight and focus on what is in front of me right now.
"To positions!" I called out to the cooks running around all over the three floors of the restaurant, their firearms trembling in their hands.
Nothing quite like a group of terrified chefs to inspire confidence in a battle plan. But they were all I had to work with, and honestly, I'd seen worse since my arrival in this world.
The pirates were charging now, their war cries echoing across the water like the soundtrack to my personal nightmare.
Don Krieg's voice boomed above the chaos, commanding his men forward with the kind of authority that only came from years of successful brutality.
'Of course, the guy who looks like a walking armory would be the type to enjoy this kind of theatrical violence.'
"Get ready!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the din. The cooks adjusted their grips on their weapons, sweat beading on their foreheads despite the ocean breeze.
The distance between us and the charging pirates was closing rapidly. I could see the individual expressions on their faces now – some eager, some terrified, all desperate.
"FIRE!!!" I commanded.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The coordinated volley erupted from our defensive positions like thunder rolling across the sea.
The sound was deafening, echoing off the water and the restaurant's walls in a symphony of violence that made my ears ring.
Smoke billowed from the muzzles of dozens of firearms, creating a hazy cloud that momentarily obscured our view of the charging pirates.
'And this is exactly why I hate being the guy in charge,' I thought as I watched the bullets streak through the air. 'Nothing quite like ordering people to shoot at other people to make you question your life.'
The effect was immediate and brutal.
Pirates who had been leaping confidently from debris to debris suddenly found themselves stumbling, crying out as bullets found their marks.
SPLASH!!
SPLASH!
Bodies hit the water with sickening regularity, some already still, others thrashing desperately as they tried to stay afloat despite their injuries.
"We got 'em!" one of the cooks shouted from the second floor, his voice filled with surprised relief.
"Keep firing!" another called out.
"Don't let them regroup!"
"Look at them fall!" a third cook exclaimed, his earlier fear replaced by bloodthirsty excitement.
But the return fire came just as quickly.
CRACK!
CRACK!
VOOO!
VOOOO!!
Bullets whizzed past me, embedding themselves in the wooden walls of the restaurant with sharp THUNK sounds.
The cooks around me instinctively ducked, but our positioning had been carefully planned. Most of the return fire went wide or struck the reinforced sections of the restaurant.
"They're shooting back!" one of the younger cooks cried, his voice cracking with fear.
"Stay in position!" I commanded. "We're winning this exchange!"
"Is everyone alright?" A cook called out from the upper floor. "Any injuries?"
"We're good down here!" came the reply from the first-floor defenders.
'Well, at least my paranoid attention to detail is paying off,' I mused, watching as the first exchange played out exactly as I'd anticipated. 'Though I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day.'
That's when I sensed three bullets heading directly for my position. Instead of diving for cover like any sane person would, I let my Hamon flow through my cloak, the life energy suffusing the fabric with an otherworldly glow.
The bullets struck the reinforced material and simply... stopped. Not bounced, not deflected – just stopped, as if they'd hit an invisible wall.
"What the hell?!" a cook gasped from behind me.
"The bullets just... stopped!" another whispered in amazement.
"How is that possible?" came a third voice, filled with awe.
'Heaven, I really hope nobody from my old school is watching this somehow,' I thought, fighting back the urge to cringe at my own dramatic flair. 'This is exactly the kind of chunibyo behavior I used to mock relentlessly.'
But the effect on both friend and foe was immediate. The cooks stared at me with a mixture of awe and terror, while the pirates' confident shouts faltered for just a moment.
I took advantage of that hesitation, drawing my custom flintlock pistol and firing several normal rounds into the pirate ranks.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
My shots were precise, each one finding its mark among the charging pirates. More bodies hit the water, and I could see the initial fighting spirit beginning to drain from their faces.
"Direct hits!" someone shouted from above.
"Incredible!" another cook exclaimed.
"Look at those shots! All are a perfect hit!"
'Nothing quite like organized resistance to dampen the enthusiasm of would-be conquerors.'
The pirates were clearly surprised by how coordinated our defense was. They'd probably expected to steamroll over a bunch of terrified restaurant workers, not face a carefully planned defensive strategy.
'Sorry to disappoint, but I didn't survive two years in this hellscape by being unprepared.'
That's when Don Krieg himself stepped forward, his massive armored form cutting an imposing figure against the chaos of battle.
'Of course he'd be the type to solve problems by shooting them,' I thought, watching as he spread his arms wide. 'Because subtlety is clearly overrated when you can just blast your way through everything.'
Dozens of gun muzzles emerged from hidden compartments in his armor, each one trained on our defensive positions.
The cooks around me began to panic, their earlier confidence evaporating in the face of such overwhelming firepower.
'And here I was thinking this might actually go smoothly.'
"Straw Hat!" I shouted, knowing the rubber-powered pirate was somewhere nearby.
'Please tell me the protagonist's powers are still working in this timeline.'
To my relief, Luffy's voice rang out immediately. "Got it!" His arms stretched impossibly far, launching him directly at Don Krieg just as the armored pirate opened fire.
RATATATATATAT!
The sound of automatic gunfire filled the air, but Luffy's rubber body absorbed and redirected the bullets with impossible physics that still made my brain hurt, even after two years of witnessing the bizarre that is this world.
The redirected bullets struck several of Krieg's own men, adding to the chaos and confusion.
'Well, that's one way to deal with superior firepower,' I thought, watching as Luffy engaged the pirate captain in what could only be described as a cartoon physics battle. 'Though I suppose I shouldn't complain about unrealistic abilities when I'm literally using life energy to stop bullets.'
Don Krieg's expression shifted from annoyed to genuinely angry as he realized his overwhelming advantage was being neutralized. He barked orders to his men, his voice carrying easily over the sounds of battle.
Of course, the guy would adapt quickly. You don't conquer the East Blue by being inflexible.
The pirate tactics shifted immediately.
Instead of the chaotic charge they'd started with, they began moving with the kind of coordination that spoke of extensive training and experience.
The ones on the larger debris pieces huddled together, forming defensive lines with shields. Shields!
As for the others, they took out rowing oars from somewhere and started rowing.
"What are they doing?" one of the cooks asked nervously.
"They're getting organized," another replied, fear creeping back into his voice.
"Look at them! They're forming ranks like a real army!"
"This is bad," muttered Patty. "These aren't just random pirates."
'Well, this just got significantly more complicated,' I observed, watching as the pirates transformed from a mob into an organized assault force. 'Nothing quite like facing competent enemies to make you appreciate incompetent ones.'
The shielded pirates provided cover for riflemen who began laying down suppressing fire on our upper positions. Meanwhile, other pirates slipped into the water to avoid our fire, clearly planning to climb up the restaurant's walls directly and attack close and personal.
'Classic multi-pronged assault. These guys definitely know what they're doing.'
"They're splitting up!" someone shouted from the upper deck.
"Some of them are going underwater!"
"We can't see them anymore!"
The change in tactics had an immediate effect on the cooks' morale. The confident voices that had been shouting defiance just moments before now carried notes of panic and uncertainty.
"We can't fight them if they're organized like this!"
"What do we do now?"
"They're going to surround us!"
'And here comes the part where untrained civilians remember why they chose cooking over combat.'
"Stop shaking!" I commanded, my voice cutting through their rising panic. Time to be the responsible adult again, apparently.
"Upper floors, fall back and tend to the wounded! First floor, anyone with knives or cleavers, take positions by the ladders and boarding points!"
The cooks hesitated for just a moment, their eyes darting between me and the approaching pirates.
"You heard him!" Patty's voice boomed from above. "Move!"
"But what about—" one cook started.
"Just do it!" another interrupted. "He knows what he's doing!"
'Come on, people. I know I'm asking a lot, but this is literally survival time.'
"Bazooka teams, target the smaller rafts! Riflemen, reload and prepare for sustained fire!" I continued, injecting as much authority into my voice as possible.
Amazing how much easier it is to give orders when people's lives depend on it. No time for social anxiety when death is on the line.
The effect was immediate. The cooks snapped into action, their panic replaced by focused determination.
"Roger that!"
"Moving to position!"
"Bazookas ready!"
"Reloading!" Nothing quite like clear, specific orders to cut through the fog of fear.
The upper floors cleared as wounded were dragged to safety, while the first floor became a bristling defensive line of oversized kitchen implements.
WHOOSH!
BOOM!
The bazookas opened fire, sending explosive rounds into the smaller rafts with devastating effect. Pirates who had been confidently rowing toward us suddenly found themselves swimming for their lives as their makeshift vessels disintegrated around them.
"Direct hit!" someone cheered.
"Got another one!"
"Look at them scatter!"
Sometimes the direct approach really is the best approach.
The battle was reaching a fever pitch now. The sounds of gunfire, explosions, and shouting created a cacophony that would have been overwhelming if not for the adrenaline coursing through my system.
"We're holding them!" a cook shouted triumphantly.
"Keep it up!" another replied.
"Don't let them get close!"
Two years of fighting for survival, and I'm still not used to this level of chaos.
That's when I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. Several pirates had avoided the direct assault on our main defenses, instead swimming around toward the restaurant's rear.
'Of course, they'd try to flank us. I'd be disappointed if they didn't.'
Fortunately, paranoia was one of my greatest strengths. The ambush points I'd had the cooks prepare along the restaurant's rear came into play immediately.
BANG!
BANG!
Gunfire erupted from our hidden positions, catching the flanking pirates completely by surprise.
"Ambush successful!" came a shout from the rear guard.
"They didn't expect that!"
"Nice planning, Dead-Eyes!"
'Always have a backup plan,' I thought with grim satisfaction. 'And a backup plan for your backup plan. And maybe a backup plan for that one too.'
This is how you win and survive…
The main assault was still progressing, though. The larger rafts were steadily approaching despite our best efforts, their shield walls absorbing most of our fire while their rowers maintained steady progress.
'Time to use that card, I suppose.'
That's when Sanji appeared beside me, his face grim as he kicked a pirate who had managed to climb aboard back into the sea.
"This is bad," Sanji said, lighting a cigarette despite the chaos around us.
"If those bastards reach the restaurant, this whole place is going to turn into a battlefield. We need to raise the ship's fins."
And there it is. The reasonable-sounding suggestion that would actually make everything worse.
'It's like suggesting that the best way to handle a bully is to tell him to punch you in the face because you can handle it.'
I turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "That would be a stupid idea."
"What?" Sanji's cigarette nearly fell from his lips.
"Raising the fins would only give the enemy the advantage while lowering our own," I explained, my voice carrying clearly over the sounds of battle.
"We'd be desperately overwhelmed by their sheer number, and no matter how strong you are, you are not impervious to bullets nor numbers."
Sanji's funny-looking eyebrow twitched – the universal sign that someone was about to argue with me.
"But the restaurant—" Sanji started.
"The purpose of this tactic isn't to stop the pirates completely," I continued, cutting him off. "It's to thin their numbers so it becomes more manageable for us to fight them when they do board."
Sanji's eyes widened as he processed my words. Around us, the other cooks were listening intently despite the ongoing battle.
"Moreover," I added, spinning the special wheel at the back of my modified flintlock to change the round, "the pirates want the ship. They're going to keep damage to the ship to a minimum anyway. Why would they destroy what they're trying to capture?"
The blond cook clicked his tongue as he kicked another pirate into the sea.
'Well, at least he's willing to listen to reason,' I thought, beginning my Hamon breathing technique. 'That's more than I can say for most people I've met in this world.'
I focused back on my custom flintlock, one that cost me a fortune for the materials alone, and the work of three different gunsmiths to develop. The loaded rubber rounds into the chamber were ready – rubber being far more conductive to Hamon than traditional lead bullets.
Taking a deep breath, I deepened the Hamon breathing technique I'd spent so long perfecting. The rhythmic breathing pattern allowed the sun-like ripples to flow through my body, concentrating in my arms and finally reaching the pistol itself.
The pistol began to glow with Hamon energy, the golden light pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
But that wasn't the truly spectacular part. From the gun's secondary muzzle, a cloud of Hamon Ether began to form, spreading out in a perfect circle about a foot in diameter.
The substance shimmered and swirled, its changing colors creating an effect that looked exactly like a magic circle from some fantasy story.
'God, I really am turning into everything I used to mock,' I thought, watching as the Hamon Ether stabilized into a small magic circle-like form with a kaleidoscope of colors shining from it. 'Next thing you know, I'll be shouting attack names aloud and posing dramatically.'
The truth was, it wasn't actually magic. The Hamon Ether was a material I'd discovered on an island known for leather-working, a substance that could store and conduct Hamon energy in ways that defied what I had known about the Hamon.
When suffused with Hamon, it became something between liquid and gas, allowing me to manipulate it into various shapes and configurations.
I'd chosen the magic circle appearance partly for its psychological effect, but mostly because it provided the best balance of control and power amplification.
The magic circle appearance isn't just for show, but because it acts like a prod (the bow-like part of the crossbow), giving me better control over the bullet's speed, power, and most importantly, Effect.
'Because if you're going to look like a sorcerer, might as well lean into it.'
Hamon Bolt—Curse!
The first shot rang out with a sound unlike any normal gunfire.
WHOOM!
The bullet streaked through the air, leaving a trail of golden light as it struck the shield of the lead pirate.
The man didn't even flinch – probably thought he'd successfully blocked it.
Then the blood started.
Every orifice on his body began bleeding simultaneously – eyes, nose, mouth, ears.
"AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!"
He screamed in terror and pain as he collapsed, his shield clattering to the raft's surface.
The Hamon disrupts the target's circulatory system. Leading to Internal hemorrhaging via Hamon disruption. Brutal, but effective.
The second shot produced a different effect entirely.
WHOOM!
'Hamon Bolt—Axe!'
The bullet struck another shielded pirate, who also felt no impact.
"GAAAAAAAHH!!!"
But seconds later, two massive cross-shaped gashes appeared on his torso, as if he'd been struck by invisible blades.
The Hamon turns the power of the bullet into a cutting force that bypasses defenses and affects the body.
WHOOM!
'Hamon Bolt—Berserk!'
"RAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"
"O-Oi! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!"
"AHHHH!!"
The third pirate began roaring in berserk fury, attacking his own allies with mindless violence.
"STOP IT YOU MOTHERFU*KER!!!"
"RAAAAA!!!"
"HE HAS GONE MAD!!"
His comrades scrambled to get away from him, their formation breaking down as they tried to avoid their berserk companion.
'The Hamon triggers an uncontrollable fury, making the target attack anyone close to them.'
WHOOM!
'Hamon Bolt—Sleep!'
"Eh? What Is Happen—"
The fourth pirate simply collapsed, his eyes closed as if he'd fallen into a peaceful sleep. He slid off the debris and into the water without a sound.
'The most merciful option in the arsenal. A very simple Hamon hypnosis, inducing unconsciousness.'
WHOOM!
"WAAAAHHH!! WAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
The fifth pirate's shield suddenly burst into flames, and he screamed as the fire spread to his clothes. He dove into the water, but the flames seemed to follow him, burning even underwater.
'Hamon Bolt—Ignition!'
'Hamon-induced combustion. The ripple creates an effect that ignites whatever it touches.'
Physics probably shouldn't work that way, but this world stopped making sense a long time ago.
WHOOM!
The sixth pirate froze mid-stride, his body locked in place as if turned to stone. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only watch in horror as his paralyzed body became a sitting target.
'Hamon Bolt—Paralyze!'
Another simple Hamon hypnosis, inducing a full-body paralysis.
'Temporary, but long enough to be useful.'
Each shot produced a different effect, carefully calibrated through months of practice and experimentation.
The Hamon Ether allowed me to modify the bullets' properties on the fly, creating effects that ranged from merely incapacitating to absolutely terrifying.
'The best part about it was that this was only the first level, I can still do much more with the Hamon Ether. But, I would rather keep it a hidden card for now.'
The psychological effect was immediate and profound. Both pirates and cooks alike stared at me with expressions of awe and terror, their voices carrying whispers of supernatural explanations.
"What is he?!" a pirate screamed from the rafts.
"Sorcery!" another shouted. "It's sorcery!"
"He's cursed them all!" a third pirate wailed.
From my own side, the reactions were no less dramatic:
"The Sorcerer... he's using actual magic!" one cook whispered.
"Look at that magic circle! It's like something from a fairy tale!"
"Is he even human?" another asked in hushed tones.
"A sorcerer," Patty breathed. "We've got a real sorcerer fighting with us."
"AMAAAAAZZING!!!" and of course, that signature exclamation that came from beyond the enemy line.
'Great. Just what I needed - more people thinking I'm some kind of supernatural freak. This is exactly the kind of attention I was trying to avoid.'
"Reload and fire!" I commanded the cooks, taking advantage of the pirates' momentary paralysis. With their shield wall down, the remaining pirates on the rafts were sitting ducks for conventional gunfire.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The volley was devastating. Pirates who had been confidently approaching just moments before now found themselves diving for cover or falling into the water.
"They're breaking!" someone shouted excitedly.
"We've got them on the run!"
"The sorcerer broke their charge!"
Well, nothing quite like a demonstration of impossible power to break enemy morale.
But my moment of satisfaction was short-lived. Just as the cooks were starting to cheer, a voice boomed across the battlefield.
"PEARL! Get Up There And Show Them What Real Power Looks Like!"
Just as I was beginning to think we might actually pull this off, a massive figure leaped from the rear of the largest raft.
The newcomer was enormous, his armor consisting of what looked like two huge round steel shields attached to his front and back, with smaller shields protecting his limbs.
He landed on the raft with a tremendous THUD that sent smaller pirates scrambling for balance.
"PEARL-SAN!" the pirates cheered. "Pearl-san's here!"
"Now you're in for it!" one of them shouted at us.
"Pearl the Iron Wall! You can't break through his defense!"
'Pearl,' I realized, recognizing the distinctively ridiculous armor from the manga and the information I had gathered. 'Don Krieg's shield-man. This just got significantly more complicated.'
The cooks' voices immediately shifted from celebration to concern:
"What is that thing?"
"Look at the size of him!"
"Those shields... they're massive!"
"Can we even hurt something like that?"
The armored giant positioned himself at the front of the raft, his massive shield absorbing every bullet we fired at him.
PING!
PING!
PING!
"Our bullets aren't working!" a cook shouted in panic.
"They're just bouncing off!"
"What do we do now?"
The sound of bullets striking steel filled the air, but none of them penetrated his defenses. Worse, gun muzzles began emerging from hidden compartments in his armor, each one trained on our positions.
'Shit! Of course, he'd be a walking weapons platform too,' I thought, quickly expanding my Hamon Ether circle to create a defensive barrier. 'Because regular armors are apparently for amateurs.'
RATATATATATAT!
Pearl's return fire was devastating. I managed to block most of the bullets aimed at the cooks near me, but several of the defenders further away weren't so lucky.
Cries of pain and fear echoed across the restaurant as men fell to Pearl's overwhelming firepower.
"We're hit!" someone screamed.
"Man down! Man down!"
"I can't see through the smoke!"
"The sorcerer's barrier saved us!"
With Pearl's protection, the pirates manning the oars were able to make their final push.
The makeshift rafts struck the sides of the Baratie with solid THUNK sounds, and immediately, pirates began swarming up the restaurant's side like ants on a picnic basket.
'Tsk, so this is it, huh…'
The first part of the plan was over as we managed to thin their numbers, but the battle itself was far from over.
If anything, it was just beginning.
…
A/N: Well, That's it for now.
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