"He's so young… such a waste, dying like this!"
"Are you crazy? Keep your voice down!"
"He's a Celestial Dragon's slave. If anyone hears you and word gets out, you won't live to see another day either."
Soon enough, the group of Marines carrying Oboro headed straight for the designated disposal site.
Since he was technically considered property of the Celestial Dragons, they couldn't just dump him somewhere like a regular corpse.
"Look at his body… it's covered in scars. Burns, cuts, lashes… I heard Celestial Dragons like to collect rare races or powerful people to be their slaves, but for this one…"
"His face is all slashed up, but you can still sort of tell… he was probably quite handsome. That's likely the only reason he was kept around."
"Both of you, shut up! I said, stop talking about it!"
The squad leader was growing irritated.
"Come on, Sergeant Barts, don't be so uptight. It's not like we're the ones enslaved."
"Huh?"
Suddenly, one of the men stopped in his tracks, having noticed something odd.
"What is it?"
"The wounds on his body…"
The soldier drew a sharp breath, sounding uncertain. "The bleeding… it's stopped. It looks like it's already coagulating."
"What?"
The others turned their full attention to the body. Sure enough, the flow of blood dripping onto the ground had slowed significantly.
Logically speaking, this should have been impossible for someone who had just been shot point‑blank in the head.
Then, without warning, right before their eyes, the slave—who had shown absolutely no signs of life—suddenly snapped his eyes wide open.
The sergeant's face went pale with horror, and he opened his mouth to scream.
But before he could make a sound, Oboro erupted with immense strength. He broke free from their grasp, leaped straight up into the air, and twisted his body mid‑air.
As he spun, his arms crossed, leaving only blurred afterimages in their vision. A series of sickening cracks rang out.
In the next second, every Marine there had their neck twisted a full 180 degrees, their spines completely snapped.
Oboro landed lightly on his feet and rolled his stiff, aching shoulders.
Nearby civilians who witnessed the scene fled in panic.
"Not bad…"
Oboro casually brushed the bangs away from his forehead, looking completely at ease.
On the left side of his forehead and the back of his skull, there was a conspicuous wound.
At first glance, it looked exactly like the entry and exit holes of a bullet piercing straight through the skull.
He had been shot, yes. But the bullet had only grazed him, tearing away a strip of skin and flesh.
It looked gruesome, with blood covering his entire face, but it was just enough to create a visual illusion.
After that, he simply held his breath and forced his body into a state of suspended animation.
"Now… time to deal with this thing."
He reached up and tugged at the iron collar still locked around his neck. It was clearly the explosive type; one wrong move and it would blow his head to pieces.
"He was sharp enough… definitely sensed something was off… but he didn't take it seriously. Probably just didn't care enough about Celestial Dragon business." Oboro murmured, thinking back to Admiral Kizaru, who had paused right beside him earlier.
As expected, even if the Will of the World wanted him dead, it could only guide fate or alter things gradually. It couldn't directly control people or events.
Just like how the "Little Tree" in Demon Slayer had handled Muzan.
Which meant… there was still room for him to survive and maneuver.
From this perspective, his previous experience in the Low‑Level World of Demon Slayer had been very useful in helping him understand the underlying rules of reality.
However, being specifically targeted by the World Will meant his life here in One Piece would be incredibly difficult.
But that was exactly what gave Oboro the thrill of a challenge.
Unlike the dull, boring monotony he felt in Demon Slayer.
"Your clothes…"
Oboro, tattered and stained with blood, blocked the path of a civilian who hadn't managed to run away fast enough. He extended his hand and spoke coldly.
Terrified, the man swallowed hard and immediately stripped off his tracksuit without a word.
Oboro changed into it quickly and walked away, vanishing into the crowd.
Shortly after his departure, a large Marine unit arrived at the scene, led by a Rear Admiral.
When he saw the bodies of the slain soldiers, Burning Love—an imposing man with a thick beard and a cigar clamped between his teeth—exhaled a cloud of smoke and spoke calmly.
"Looks like… this guy isn't just some ordinary character."
"Send the order. Seal off the entire island. We must capture him and bring him back!"
"Yes, Sir!"
A normal fugitive wouldn't warrant such a massive mobilization, but the situation was special: the suspect had been a slave owned by a Celestial Dragon. That required the highest level of seriousness.
…
The Sabaody Archipelago is made up of seventy‑nine numbered mangrove trees. Each tree serves as a distinct landmark, hosting different towns and districts.
For example, Districts 50 through 59 were dedicated to shipyards. Districts 40 through 49 were the tourist and souvenir areas.
But Oboro was heading toward the lawless zones of the archipelago—areas where Marine control was significantly weaker.
As the primary resupply point before entering the second half of the Grand Line, Sabaody gathered massive numbers of pirates and underworld organizations.
In other words, anyone strong enough to make it here was already considered elite among pirate crews.
However, compared to the truly powerful figures roaming the seas, they were still nothing more than "rookies" and "newbies."
Currently, Marine Headquarters was still stationed relatively nearby. Once they relocated, the entire archipelago would effectively become a lawless zone.
In fact, Headquarters was still close enough to the Red Line and Mary Geoise, which explained why Celestial Dragons could come visiting whenever they pleased.
"Interesting…"
A few hours later, Oboro arrived at District 19.
The atmosphere changed the moment he stepped onto the street. There were barely any civilians around.
Almost everyone walking about was clearly a pirate, judging by their clothes, demeanor, and the weapons—swords, guns, and other arms—they carried openly.
Their gazes were sharp and hostile.
He even witnessed two rival crews engaging in a chaotic street brawl right in the open.
Oboro pulled the hood of his tracksuit up over his head, lowering it to hide his face as he strolled through the area.
He bent down and picked up a discarded newspaper from the ground.
He read through it with growing interest.
Based on the memories inherited from his previous body, he had already roughly deduced the current timeline. The newspaper in his hand confirmed his guess.
On the front page was a large photograph. A young man with freckles and a bright, wide smile was holding a wine glass, celebrating with his crewmates inside a tavern.
The Spade Pirates.
The supernova from the East Blue… Portgas D. Ace, also known as "Fire Fist Ace."
"The Bird Man's intelligence network really is something… they even got a photo like this."
Oboro smiled faintly.
Ace hadn't entered the New World yet, but his name was already famous throughout the first half of the Grand Line.
He had likely already caught the attention of the Four Emperors.
Oboro flipped the page and spotted another familiar name.
Another dazzling supernova: Captain of the Beautiful Pirates, Cavendish—also known as the "Pirate Prince."
"I see… which means I have about one year left before the arrival of the Worst Generation."
____________________
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