Conrad had been extraordinary since childhood.
While other kids at the orphanage busied themselves with poetry and arithmetic, he'd already discovered where his true talents lay. Every day after school, he'd sneak off to the bookstore and plant himself there for hours, studying martial arts comics and wuxia novels.
He knew that people who had nothing would eventually have to make their own way in the world.
The more he read, the more amazed he became—every protagonist, every hero in those stories seemed to share something with him!
If he'd lived in those eras, he could've been the greatest fighter of them all.
That's when Conrad understood: he was born with the bones of a champion and the soul of a king. He was meant for greatness!
But... damn it! If only he'd been born in the right time!
In this age that crushed free spirits, he'd tried running away from the orphanage multiple times, hoping to train himself in the wilderness. But they always dragged him back and kept him under strict watch.
Sure, they meant well, but Conrad could only shake his head ruefully. Those ordinary people just didn't understand young heroes.
Days turned to months, years passed. His grand ambitions had to wait. But his heart never wavered, his passion never cooled.
He knew that someone like him—a natural-born champion—just needed the right opportunity to soar!
He waited like this for twenty whole years.
When he finally returned, the old bookstore that used to overflow with comics and martial arts novels now had "Space for Rent" plastered across its windows.
"You came," the owner said without looking up from packing old books.
"I came."
Conrad walked in and bought up a whole box of books he could never afford before, now dirt cheap.
"I wanted to buy wine and cassia flowers like in the old days, but it's not the same as when we were young," the owner said, tossing him the latest One Piece volume. "Can you even still get into it?"
"Of course." Conrad struck his usual solid horse stance as he read.
But when he got to the part where the prize for the God Valley battle was Shakky, and all those big-name pirates got heart-eyes, he cursed this repressive era and threw the manga into the box with his Tiger Mask collection.
The next second, everything went black.
Year 1511 of the Sea Circle Calendar, North Blue, Minion Island.
Heavy snow fell, blanketing the island in white.
At the top of the mountain, in an abandoned cluster of buildings called Ghost Town, the freshly-landed Barrel Pirates were throwing a party to celebrate their upcoming deal with the Navy.
"Five billion! Five billion berries, hahaha!" Captain Barrels pinched a heart-shaped Devil Fruit between his fingers, face flushed with excitement. "After this score, we'll have more money than we could ever spend! We'll never have to be pirates again!"
"Damn right!" Around the steaming feast table, pirates in fur coats roared with laughter.
"Drink up! Let's party hard tonight!" Barrels locked the Devil Fruit in a treasure chest, then tilted his head back and chugged from a beer bottle.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the nearly empty crate of booze. He kicked his son in the back. "Drake! Go get more drinks!"
"Right away..." Drake's body was covered in bruises. His angular face—still young and not fully grown—bore two vicious X-shaped scars across his jaw.
He pressed the bandage on his face, kept his head down as he squeezed through the rowdy pirates, pushed aside a barrel and reached for the door handle. But the door swung open before he could pull it.
Snow and wind rushed into the room. The braziers flickered, making half the pirates shiver and curse at whoever was letting in the cold.
They turned to see a strange boy standing in front of Drake.
The boy wore oddly thin clothes for the cold. He stood ramrod straight in the doorway, staring intensely at the meat on the table with clear black eyes, saying nothing.
The bitter wind whipped his wild black hair. His fingers—swollen red from the cold—gripped a fishing spear taller than himself so tightly it seemed like his lifeline.
While the pirates were still confused, the boy boldly walked inside, lunged at the table, grabbed a huge meat bone and started wolfing it down.
"Kid! Where the hell did you come from?!" A bearded pirate grabbed his sword and roared.
But the boy completely ignored him, just kept eating.
Only when a curved blade came down toward his neck did he suddenly raise his spear, catching the blade between the prongs.
Because he literally couldn't understand them.
Seeing a boy barely over five feet tall block a grown pirate's enraged strike, Barrels set down his drink. He stood up to his full imposing height, his angular face darkening as he asked, "Did Doflamingo send you?"
This deal for the Ope-Ope Fruit—he'd arranged it through the underworld broker Doflamingo of the Donquixote Family, who'd connected him with the World Government.
And Doflamingo did have some weird kids working for him.
The boy barely chewed before forcing the mouthful of meat down his throat. The fireplace cast light on his reddened face as he flashed a brilliant smile.
"Conrad. My name." The boy looked around at everyone's different hair colors and complexions, patted his chest and said he'd pay later: "Money!"
Conrad had been stranded on this desolate island for a week now, wearing only an autumn outfit that hung loose on his eleven or twelve-year-old body and provided little warmth.
Fortunately, he'd always enjoyed rolling around shirtless in the snow since childhood—it stimulated his inner qi to circulate naturally. With his internal energy, he hadn't frozen to death.
But hunger was another matter. He was from inland, only an average swimmer. In a week, he'd only speared three fish, two of which had washed ashore already stranded.
Earlier, heading back to town on an empty stomach, he'd spotted firelight on the mountain and rushed up to investigate.
These guys didn't look like good people, but at least they were people. If they were on shore, they had to have a ship that could get him out of here.
"Berries?"
After hearing Conrad's strange accent, Barrels paused, then nodded. "After the deal's done, I'll send the broker fee over. No need to remind me specially. You can go now."
"Thank you!" Conrad burped, grabbed half a roasted chicken, and sat down at the table by the fireplace to warm himself.
The surrounding pirates looked at each other in confusion, waiting for the captain's orders.
"Forget him! Keep drinking!" Barrels sat back down through gritted teeth and raised his glass again. After gulping down a huge swig, he cursed, "Where the hell is that idiot Drake?! Why isn't he back yet?!"
The party resumed, the celebration continued.
Facing the fireplace, Conrad's mouth seemed like a bottomless pit as he devoured food. The flames reflected in his pupils burned intensely bright.
"I need to eat my fill. I need to survive. My future is brilliant!"
The pirate sitting with him felt almost blinded by that gaze and instinctively dragged his chair to another seat.
Then, a brazier hanging from the ceiling fell.
Hot coals scattered everywhere, yet landed in complete silence.
Suddenly, a blond man wearing a black feathered coat appeared beside Conrad. He dumped a bucket of snow on the fireplace, extinguishing it and plunging the room into darkness.
The man's clown makeup and flamboyant outfit made Conrad stop eating. Memories of reading One Piece five years ago came rushing back.
Donquixote Rosinante—Doflamingo's younger brother, user of the Calm-Calm Fruit.
Pirates pushed tables aside and drew swords, looking around and shouting curses—but their mouths just moved without sound, like a silent film.
Conrad immediately understood the situation. He gripped his spear and charged straight for the exit.
Everyone here was going to die.
The only survivor would be Drake, who'd gone out to get drinks.
Because the future Warlord of the Sea, Doflamingo, was about to arrive on the island to double-cross them and steal the Ope-Ope Fruit.
The so-called deal was just wishful thinking on the naive Captain Barrels' part.
Shoving, colliding—flames from an exploding warehouse shone through the windows into the chaotic stone building. Rosinante's flying kick smashed into Barrels' face. Conrad burst through the pirates and into the blizzard, watching the flames dance from a safe distance.
Thick smoke billowed. Pirates on the slope rushed to support, raising their rifles and aiming at Conrad.
For the first time in his life, facing down black gun barrels, his footsteps faltered.
The world was silent, but his chest burned unbearably hot. A soul dormant for twenty years felt ready to burst from his heart, roaring! Screaming with excitement!
Thump!
His heart pumped like a war drum.
Bang!
Glass windows shattered. The crackling of burning wood and human voices exploded back into existence.
"Law! I did it! Finally I can cure your disease! Wait for me! I'm coming right now!"
Rosinante burst through the window, both hands carefully cradling the Ope-Ope Fruit, tears of joy in his eyes.
But his foot suddenly slipped. He stumbled and rolled down the snowy slope toward the armed pirates below.
"Catch that guy in the feather coat! He stole the Ope-Ope Fruit!" Chase-down shouts rang out.
Rifles cocked. Gun barrels swung from Conrad to Rosinante tumbling down the slope. Fingers squeezed triggers.
Bullets fired. Blood was about to spray—
A black shadow shot through the air like a crossbow bolt, piercing through the feathered coat and stabbing deep into the slope, sinking in almost halfway and stopping the rolling momentum dead.
It was an iron fishing spear, thrown by Conrad.
Bullet holes appeared in the snow two meters below Rosinante's feet.
As every pirate's gaze fixed on Conrad, he ignored them all, staring only at his own clenched fists, eyes blazing.
"Orca once told me! The Whale-Killing Tyrant Fist is the most powerful fist technique in the world! Today I channel Conqueror's Haki through the Tyrant Fist! I will dominate the world!"
Black smoke burned away snow. The fire raged strong.
His autumn clothes billowed like a coat in the wind. Conrad charged down the snowy slope and leaped into the reloading pirates, his punch exploding with black-and-red waves of Haki.
"Ocean! Welcome your king!"