"Join Luffy…" I muttered, the image of that goofy pirate in a straw hat flashing through my mind.
On one hand, it was the surest path to see the world, experience major events firsthand, and perhaps uncover clues about the powers of this world—the Devil Fruits and Haki I currently couldn't access. With direct observation, I might learn what I needed.
On the other hand, the thought of being a "subordinate" or "crew member" to a loud, impulsive youth felt strange—even amusing—for a Dao Ancestor who had ruled for hundreds of thousands of years.
I needed more than just a ship. I needed the ability to sail the unpredictable Grand Line—with a working Log Pose or skilled navigation. I needed protection from Marines and rival pirates.
The Straw Hats, in time, would become one of the most powerful and influential crews on these seas. They could take me to places beyond imagination.
"Alright," I decided. Not as a servant, but as a strategic observer. I would use them as a tool to achieve my own goals—restoring my Dao and understanding this strange 33rd Dimension.
Leaving this island would be my first challenge. I had scouted the coastline. No signs of recent shipwrecks. I couldn't just wait.
Instead of making random signals, I decided to rely on my unique mastery of Universal Star Reading—adapted for this world. I knew the Grand Line's wind patterns and currents were chaotic, but there were also trade lanes and Marine patrol routes. These routes, though invisible on normal maps, left faint energetic traces in the fabric of reality.
"No point in waiting blindly," I murmured to myself. "I'll predict it."
I found the island's highest point—a hilltop overlooking the endless sea. Each night, I spent hours there, eyes closed, focusing my soul.
Even stripped of my Dao, the core essence of my cosmic being remained. I "read" the energy patterns of the stars and waves, searching for distortions or anomalies that signaled heavily traveled routes or the presence of ships. This was cosmic navigation, far beyond any Log Pose or Eternal Pose.
After weeks of observation, I found a pattern. There was an "invisible lane" about five days' sail from the island, where ship frequency was slightly higher. It wasn't random—it was like a hidden gravity corridor or an undercurrent exploited by skilled navigators.
This was my window of opportunity. I couldn't just wave and hope a friendly ship passed by. I had to go to that lane myself.
The decision was set. I would build a small emergency raft—not for long voyages, but to reach that route.
The island's forest had plenty of strong trees. With bare hands and the muscle I'd built over the past year, I began cutting small trees and thick branches using sharp stones and sheer determination. Slow, exhausting work for a teenager's body—but I didn't stop.
I chose wood that was light yet durable. Using my knowledge of structure and binding, I lashed them together with strong tree fibers, sealing the joints with natural resin. The raft was simple but functional—just a flat base with a makeshift sail mast, large enough for me and some supplies.
Each day, I returned to the shore with more wood and fibers. I worked from morning until night, pausing only to hunt or gather water. Every drop of sweat was an investment in reclaiming my Dao.
Weeks later, the raft was done—crude but sturdy, ready to brave the Grand Line's waves. I secured the "New God Valley" map inside my clothing and prepared my final provisions: edible fruit and bottles of fresh water.
Dawn painted the Grand Line sky in purple and gold as I stood before my creation. My teenage body ached, but my eyes burned with the resolve of a Dao Ancestor.
I checked the bindings on the mast—a patchwork sail made from an old shipwreck tarp. This raft was fragile, nothing like the steel ships I'd seen in my old worlds, let alone the cosmic constructs I once shaped with a thought. But it was my ticket off this island.
I scanned the island one last time. I knew the limits of Formless Flow and Flow-Breaking Touch without Dao energy. I had avoided most of the island's predators, but I didn't want surprises now. The morning air was cool, carrying the scent of sea and forest. No signs of danger.
With a firm push, I launched the raft into the water. Gentle waves rocked it. This was the beginning of a new chapter.
Life on the Grand Line was hell. I learned that fast. Even with my plotted course, the weather was merciless—storms exploding out of nowhere, mountain-high waves battering my raft, scorching heat by day and bone-chilling cold at night.
I used my ability to "read" wind and current patterns, adapting cosmic navigation principles to this world's chaotic seas. More than once, I hid from massive sea kings gliding under my raft, my mortal heart pounding.
For days, I saw islands in the distance—each tempting, each dangerous. I resisted. My course was set. Patience would pay off.
On the fifth day, as the sun sank and the horizon blazed gold, I felt something—not from the stars, but in the water: a massive vibration, followed by the aura of a powerful yet friendly presence.
A ship.
Its silhouette emerged—large, fast, sails billowing. My heart quickened. This was the moment I'd been waiting for—and the most dangerous one.
As it drew closer, I saw the flag: a skull with crossed bones and three scars over its left eye. And then, the man at the front deck.
A tall figure with blazing red hair, a long black coat, and a familiar straw hat—though not the one I knew from Luffy. He laughed loudly with his crew, his voice carrying over the waves.
Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. The man who would one day entrust his straw hat to Luffy.
The ship slowed. Crew members noticed me. A long-nosed man with black hair—Yasopp—called out, "Captain! There's a kid on a raft!"
Shanks turned, still grinning. His sharp eyes locked on me, curious but not threatening.
A rope was tossed my way. "Hey, kid! Need a lift?" came a cheerful voice—Lucky Roux, holding a massive piece of meat.
I stared at the rope. This was a golden opportunity. Meeting Shanks now was far better than starting out with small-time pirates or Marines. Shanks was a direct bridge to the world's core.
"Of course!" I called back, my voice hoarse from days of silence. I grabbed the rope and was hauled aboard the Red-Haired Pirates' ship.
The moment my feet hit the deck, the smell of rum, tobacco, and roasting meat filled my nose. My thin fifteen-year-old frame felt tiny among these giants. Curious eyes studied me—no hostility, just relaxed interest.
The red-haired man himself approached, grinning. He crouched to meet my eye level, his gaze sharp yet warm.
"Well, kid," he said. "Where'd you come from in the middle of the Grand Line? What's your name?"
I caught my breath. Time to craft the right story. "My name's… Eron," I said, my voice still raspy. "I fell from a pirate ship attacked by Marines a few days ago. I was lucky to find this raft."
Shanks laughed heartily. "Hahaha! Lucky indeed! The Grand Line's no playground for kids like you. Why are you alone?"
"I… was kidnapped by pirates who attacked my village," I continued, weaving a believable tale. "My parents… might be gone." I added a touch of sadness to my tone—though, as a Dao Ancestor, such mortal emotions still felt strange.
A large man with tattoos—Lucky Roux—stepped forward, still chewing. "Poor kid. What kind of pirates kidnap children?"
"They were looking for something," I said vaguely, thinking of the New God Valley map I would never reveal. "A map to a secret place."
Shanks listened closely. His smile didn't fade, but interest glimmered in his eyes. "A map, huh? Interesting." He stood, clapping Lucky Roux on the shoulder. "Get him some warm food and a blanket, Roux. We've got a guest."