The blue message hung in his vision, a cold, alien overlay on the sun-drenched East Blue. Benjamin Dumars Martinez was whole, physically a child, yet his internal landscape had changed utterly. He felt the ceaseless, logical hum of atoms, the new, frightening clarity of a mind unbound by human limitations.
The message faded, replaced by the System's initial mandate:
[THE SYSTEM'S JOB IS TO GIVE TASK'S THAT ALTER THE WORLDS FUTURE LIKE SAVING FISHER TIGER, FREEING THE SLAVES IN MARIE JOE IN ORDER TO PROGRESS THE TEMPLATE.]
The objective was not personal wealth or fame; it was the absolute dismantling of tyranny—the very force that had ended his two previous lives. Benjamin felt the pain of his past still, but it was now processed as data, the justification for a cosmic war.
He instantly reviewed his available functions. The 1% Template offered micro-scale divinity:
[Precise Energy Manipulation: Generate focused beams of energy, or completely neutralize an incoming projectile by simply disintegrating it before it arrives.]
[Advanced Self-Manipulation: Instantly heal any injury, regenerate lost limbs, or alter his own height or the texture of his skin—local alterations were trivial.]
[Effortless Matter Transmutation: He could not change a mountain, but he could turn a handful of beach sand into a complex, working chronometer with a mere thought.]
[Limited Chronal Awareness: The most important function. He could view short, immediate segments of the future, seeing the most probable path emanating from any action—a short-range, quantum precognition.]
A new command flared in his mind, sharp and undeniable:
[System Mandate 001 "Initiate a major, non-reversible shift toward the liberation of all enslaved beings. Current Target: Fisher Tiger."]
Benjamin computed the variables: Fisher Tiger's target was Mariejoa, the global fortress protected by unimaginable power. His 1% capacity was a scalpel, not a siege weapon. A direct intervention would lead to a third, final death.
Using his Limited Chronal Awareness, Benjamin played out a thousand direct interventions in a millisecond: all resulted in his quick, futile erasure. The optimal path was clear: he needed a catastrophic, internal crisis at Mariejoa to create an impossible window of opportunity.
He spoke, his voice thin against the roar of the ocean, yet resonating with absolute conviction.
"System," he stated. "To achieve Mandate 001, a diversion of cataclysmic, illogical scale must be executed at Mariejoa. This requires strategic utilization of all available template reserves."
He stopped, waiting for the cold logic of the algorithm to respond to his perfect, unassailable logic.
The System acknowledged the truth of the calculation. A surge of cold, thrilling energy affirmed his analysis.
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE. PROBABILITY OF MANDATE SUCCESS: 0.01%] [AUTHORIZATION GRANTED. TEMPLATE RESERVES ALLOCATED FOR STRATEGIC APPLICATION.]
The atomic hum of the world amplified in Benjamin's perception. He used Advanced Self-Manipulation to instantly deconstruct and reform himself, phase-shifting through the ocean depths, right into the deepest, most secure foundations beneath the Holy Land, Mariejoa.
He was inside the sacred earth, a blue-eyed ghost traversing the World Government's architecture. His sabotage was surgical and total:
Using Localized Reality Warping, Benjamin reversed the gravity within the main water and sewage pipes. The contents instantly flowed chaotically upward, tearing apart connections and flooding critical Marine surveillance and communication lines with toxic brine.
He found the main power hub for the slave collars. With an instant flash of the blue glint in his eyes, he used Precise Energy Manipulation to neutralize the specific radio frequency that energized the Seastone suppressants, rendering the collars inert.
He targeted the primary defense batteries. He used Effortless Matter Transmutation to accelerate the molecular decay of the cannon carriages' structural integrity. They would fail catastrophically the moment they were moved or fired.
He retreated, flowing out of the depths as a quiet blue ripple, back to the silent docks of the East Blue.
The entire capital of the world felt the sudden, inexplicable tremor. Lights flickered, communications died, and the ground systems sputtered into anarchy. It wasn't a pirate attack; it was a systemic collapse that defied understanding.
The stage was set. Benjamin, the Chronos-Child, looked toward the distant Red Line, knowing the chaos was only just beginning.