The Blue Sea stretched toward the horizon, a vast, sparkling expanse of glass that felt alien after the violent turbulence of Reverse Mountain. On the deck of their sailboat, Ornn and Yamato were hunched over a sparse lunch. The smell of salted meat and dried fish hung in the stagnant air.
"The priority hasn't changed," Ornn said, his mind already running through the logistics of their arrival. "We need to orient ourselves. Find out which of the four seas we've dropped into, secure a reliable map, and... it wouldn't hurt to acquire a few million Berries."
"And my weapon!" Yamato interjected, pointing a piece of jerky at him. "I want something with a soul. Like that Lion King belt. A weapon that actually does something."
Ornn let out an embarrassed hum, shifting his gaze to the mast.
It wasn't a lack of desire; it was a lack of a blueprint. He'd spent the last few days scanning his memory, but the mace was a blunt, overlooked instrument in the legendary lore he knew. Most myths favored the blade or the spear. Even the Creation Illustrated Book seemed to treat the spiked club as an afterthought.
"How about an axe?" Ornn ventured. "I can pull designs for battle-axes that would make a Giant weep."
"No," Yamato rejected him instantly. "An axe doesn't fit my temperament."
Ornn suppressed a dry remark. Temperament. She was a woman who chose to carry a mass of spiked iron; 'temperament' was a moving target.
"Then why not the blade?" he asked. "You want to be like Oden. Why not adopt his Two-Sword Style? I have enough blueprints to arm a battalion with legendary steel."
As he spoke, an unwanted image flickered in his mind: Yamato with dual blades, tongue lolling out in a manic frenzy like a chef from an old comedy film. He shook the thought away before it could settle.
Fortunately, Yamato shook her head as well. "No. Being a true swordsman takes years of bone-deep discipline. It's too late for me to start with the fundamentals of the blade now. I'll stick to what I know."
She seemed to sense his frustration, adding with a sheepish look, "There's no rush, Forge God. I'll think on it. When a solid idea hits me, I'll let you know."
Ornn felt the tension leave his shoulders. Long live understanding.
...
But the peace was short-lived. A sharp, shrill whistle cut through the air.
Whiz—BOOM!
Plumes of white spray erupted near the sailboat. Ornn looked toward the horizon. A pirate ship, twice the scale of their own, was cutting through the swells. Black sails, jagged intentions.
Yamato stood, her hand instinctively finding the grip of her club. Marco's medicine had done its work; she was overflowing with a restless, physical energy.
"Wait," Ornn said, stepping ahead of her. He reached for the hammer at his waist, his eyes tracking the next volley. "Let me try."
It had been nearly two months since he'd arrived in this world, and Ornn had yet to truly test his hands in a fight.
The New World was a landscape of apex predators. In Wano, any mid-ranking officer could suppress his magma with Haki. He had been a ghost, a support specialist, spending four hours every day at the anvil.
But those hours were an investment. He had been stacking the Heart of Steel relentlessly. He had accumulated nearly a thousand layers of permanent constitution, but he'd never seen what that looked like against the common denominator of the sea.
In the Blue Seas, Haki was a myth. Fruit users were anomalies. Here, his magma was an unsolvable equation. His Lion King breastplate ensured that any non-lethal mistake would be corrected in seconds.
He could afford to learn.
...
The pirates ahead were the perfect benchmark. Anyone lurking near the throat of Reverse Mountain was the 'ceiling' of this sea's power. By gauging them, he could gauge himself.
Yamato sat back down, her curiosity piqued. "Show me then, Forge God. Let's see what a thousand layers of iron looks like."
Ornn tracked the shells. His mind, cooled by the logic of a master smith, calculated the trajectories. Only two were on target.
He sprinted to the bow. With a snap of his wrist, he launched a ball of concentrated magma. It collided with the first shell in mid-air, detonating it in a spectacular burst of iron and fire.
Then, he turned to the second. He gripped his hammer and leaped.
It was an embarrassing miscalculation.
Whether it was the lack of gravity or the explosive power in his enhanced legs, he jumped far too high. He soared three meters above the incoming shell, his hands clutching empty air as he sailed through the sky.
On the deck, Yamato's face struggled to remain neutral. She remembered, however, that if the ship sank, she'd be a stone in the water. She exhaled a sharp, frost-laden breath. The cold hit the shell, freezing it into a harmless lump of ice that splashed into the sea.
Ornn landed back on the deck, his face burning. He didn't look at Yamato. Instead, he channeled his shame into a second leap as the pirate ship closed within ten meters.
This time, the arc was perfect. He landed heavily on the enemy's deck.
The pirates froze. They looked at the lone man who had crashed into their world, then broke into cruel, mocking grins. They drew their steel and swarmed.
Ornn felt a strange, chilling calm.
To his enhanced senses, the pirates moved in slow motion—like turtles struggling through deep mud. He stepped into the crowd, his hammer swinging in a wide, punishing arc toward the lead pirate's blade.
CLANG!
The sound was a ringing symphony. The Heart of Steel mark on the pirate shattered.
The machete didn't just break; it disintegrated. The hammer continued its path, slamming into the man's chest with a crunch of structural failure. The pirate was launched backward like a projectile, his body plowing through a dozen of his crew.
The impact carried them all over the railing. A dozen men vanished into the sea in a single, confused heap.
Ornn stared at the hammer, his heart beating a steady, heavy rhythm.
He knew a thousand layers would make him strong. He hadn't realized it would make him a force of nature.
"I'm not just the smith," he thought, a cold thrill running down his spine. "I'm the anvil."