Chapter One: A Newcomer in the Advanced Zone

“Morning, the sea, the rising sun, a thin mist veiling the horizon, the morning light diffused and hazy—not exactly a rare spectacle, but still enough to stir the heart with longing. This… perhaps it can be considered a good omen.” Qiu Bai shifted his gaze, looking back toward that thin line where water met sky.

The storm had only recently passed. The endless blue above and below was suffused with an indescribable clarity, interwoven with the cool-toned sunlight streaming through the lingering mist of dawn. From a purely aesthetic point of view, he wasn’t wrong—this was a sight that could captivate the soul.

From a meteorological perspective, though, while the mist thinned almost to nothing in the direction of the sun, the way ahead—for him, or more precisely, for both him and her—was not so fortunate.

Ahead lay a dense fog, visibility less than two meters, enough to shroud everything from view.

“It really is beautiful—if only we could be seeing it somewhere else.” The voice behind Qiu Bai was tinged with conditional agreement, hypothetical and resigned.

“Right? Didn’t I say recently that this was the perfect time for a sea voyage… Ugh! Let go, I’m suffocating!” Before he could savor his own satisfaction, an arm looped around his neck from behind and squeezed.

Of course, he was exaggerating; she couldn’t possibly muster enough strength to strangle him—especially now, when her energy was nearly spent. Otherwise, she might well have tried.

“That’s… why… I said… if only… we could see it somewhere else!” The girl’s voice behind him drew out each word deliberately.

Even without her emphasis, Qiu Bai was acutely aware of their predicament—no matter how sublime the scenery, no one floating in the sea after a shipwreck could muster the mood to appreciate it.

Except for Qiu Bai, that is. Things were dire, truly abysmal, yet he genuinely found himself admiring the beauty of it all, seeing the world through an eye for wonder. After all, this world was all too new to him.

Through the thick mist filling the space, one could just make out a raft drifting on the relatively calm sea, half-submerged, half afloat. Lying atop it was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen—his name was Qiu Bai.

On his back clung a girl who looked a little younger—or perhaps “clung” wasn’t quite right. So as not to lose each other in the storm, the two were tightly bound together by a rope as thick as two fingers.

“Going to sea… really was a mistake. I should have stayed for the Navy selection. If we’d been on a warship, we wouldn’t have capsized so easily… at least not so quickly,” the girl said. Her tone was flat, as if reciting from a script, but put together, her words spelled out complaint.

“No, no, I said before, the Navy doesn’t matter. What matters is that going to sea should always be on your own ship. As for some trifling misfortunes…” He shamelessly dismissed capsizing on the boundless ocean as a “minor setback.”

“To be honest, I think we’ve already performed a miracle. In these waters, even a warship can’t guarantee survival for more than three days.” He rebutted in earnest, convinced the timing of their voyage was not to blame.

As for the “miracle” he spoke of… Two people with nearly zero sailing knowledge, piloting a ten-meter single-masted fishing boat, survived three days at sea before disaster struck—if that’s not a miracle, what is?

Yes, a miracle indeed, especially since the waters they drifted in were called… the New World. The graveyard of pirates, the latter half of the Grand Line, a place where the sea never stays calm for five minutes.

The girl had no words left; in large part, Qiu Bai’s statements were irrefutable fact.

Setting out from their humble island home three days ago, the New World had been miraculously calm—and so they had been safe… until last night.

But the New World is the New World; this is no beginner’s zone to be taken lightly.

After realizing she shouldn’t bother engaging with him, the girl reverted to her usual “cold and detached” state.

Qiu Bai, unwilling to pester her further, drifted with the current, occasionally stretching out a hand to paddle, adjusting the raft’s direction. He fell silent—or so he wished.

“Listen…” He hadn’t been quiet for even five minutes before springing to life, as if he’d made a major discovery.

“What is it?” The girl tensed, scanning the fog for some hidden threat—she sensed nothing.

Then he said, “Listen… loneliness is singing to us.”

On the cold, damp sea, the white vapor from his incessant chatter made him look like a steam engine.

“…”

“Don’t think for a second I couldn’t strangle you.” She was honestly at her limit. Her nerves were already taut, and he kept pushing.

“Ahem, I was just trying to lighten the mood.” Qiu Bai realized his joke had fallen flat. He might not get strangled to death, but half to death was a real possibility. So he hurried to change the subject. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask… Do we still have our Log Pose?”

This wasn’t just important—it was a matter of life and death. With the strange magnetic fields of this world, without a Log Pose, you wouldn’t survive.

“Lost it.” The girl, in a foul mood, gave the worst possible answer. But she quickly added, “As long as we keep heading in this direction, we’ll be fine.”

She touched the pendant at her chest—a spare Log Pose. In reality, their grand “voyage” was simply from their home island to the nearest, slightly more prosperous one. The straight-line distance was under fifty kilometers, though detours were necessary due to sea conditions.

Hearing this, Qiu Bai understood they still had a Log Pose. Unfortunately, her answer only fueled his urge to run his mouth.

“So, our grand voyage is over before it’s begun. In that case, there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you, Mors, and if I’m going to die, I must say it now.”

The girl frowned—who was Mors?

Qiu Bai took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a dramatic confession. “All these years, I’ve always liked you, especially your eyes—star-bright, mesmerizing. So, even if just for this moment, please, let’s—”

But his impassioned declaration was cut short.

“Oh? If you like my eyes so much, tell me—what color are my irises?”

“Er…”

“Try turning your head and I’ll drown you here and now,” she said, voice icy.

Thwarted, Qiu Bai dared not turn even five degrees.

“Amber? No, wait… blue, definitely blue. Gemstone blue.”

Sadly, the truth was the opposite—the girl’s eyes were red.

He’d botched it, and he knew it.

“Ahem, you know how it is—people get used to things and sometimes forget, like how I always forget I have pink hair. Besides…”

“Shut up. Thank you.” The girl used the universal language of mankind to issue a command masquerading as a request.

She was finally exhausted.

This time, Qiu Bai truly fell silent. He’d only wanted to lift her spirits… or so he convinced himself.

As he quieted, providence smiled on them—the dense fog before their eyes suddenly dissipated. The island… was now in plain sight.

“Straight ahead, I see our destination, Qiu Bai.” The girl’s voice brimmed with joy. Even if being rescued wasn’t cause for celebration, being able to keep Qiu Bai at a two-meter distance afterward was a stroke of supreme luck.

In truth, from the time and distance, they’d been close to land when their boat capsized.

“Get ready, I’m going to speed up,” Qiu Bai said.

Until now, he’d conserved his strength, not knowing how much longer they’d be adrift. But with land in sight, making shore quickly was paramount.

Soaked in the cold dawn sea was a miserable ordeal. Qiu Bai could feel her shivering behind him. He was better off, but not enough to be a source of warmth for her.

Without the mist, seen from above, they looked even smaller against the vastness of the sea.

When he said he’d speed up, he meant it. Qiu Bai was confident in his stamina. After an hour of athletic dog paddling, they finally reached the shore.

“Safe landing,” Qiu Bai exhaled in relief. “In hindsight, our luck hasn’t been too bad—at least we didn’t run into any sea monsters…” He really should have remembered that before the storm, he’d tempted fate with similar words. Some people just can’t be trusted with flag-raising statements.

The shore was close, salvation was in sight—when the once-calm sea behind them suddenly erupted.

The water surged, as if a vast section had been overturned, and when the watery curtain fell back, a massive, blue-black figure appeared.

A wide jaw, a maw of fangs, eyes gleaming coldly from narrow slits—on the Grand Line, nothing is more common than this.

A Sea King.

And when a Sea King surfaces, it’s never just to say “hello.”

Qiu Bai blinked, feeling aggrieved.

“Fifty meters out, estimated length one hundred fifty meters or more, five meters thick. By all calculations and conservative estimates… we’re not even a mouthful to it.”

As the girl coolly assessed their chances, Qiu Bai had already, at some point, broken the rope binding them. He steadied her by the waist, and with a gentle push as he retreated, set her on the driftwood.

“Go! You first!”

Half-floating on the water, he pressed his arms to the plank and, with a tremendous burst of strength, sent both girl and board over two hundred meters toward the shore.

He’d never faced an opponent this massive before, but he was calm enough—at least he knew to get the girl away first. Partly to protect her, partly because a Devil Fruit user is useless in the water.

“Huck!”

“I told you not to use my real name, Ain!”

Qiu Bai faced the colossal beast, raising his voice to draw its attention away from the fleeing girl.

“Also, though you smile so lecherously, if you’re going to eat someone, eat me. I’ve been carrying her half the day, and as a guarantee of my noble character, I assure you—at her age, there’s nothing much on her to eat… especially in certain areas.”

The sea monster, of course, understood nothing. Its massive head hung for a moment, then, like a falling meteor, it crashed down with titanic force.

Qiu Bai wasn’t sure he could handle this beast—mainly, he couldn’t guarantee his attacks would hit. Still, his only choice was to face it head-on; to run would have been suicide. No human could outswim such a monster.

He raised his left arm, aiming straight at the Sea King, palm poised as if to launch an attack.

But as Newton’s third law says: “One cannot show off without absolute certainty.” Just as he was about to act, the Sea King was suddenly—decapitated.

A second before, Qiu Bai had heard a sharp, swift sound—if he were a swordsman, it would be all too familiar.

With a thud, the massive head plunged into the sea, sinking heavily, drifting up and down before finally disappearing beneath the waves.

The creature’s body still floated on the surface, as if unaware its head was gone. But thick, briny blood began to drip from the smooth cut.

Qiu Bai looked back, and saw—

The sea itself had been split cleanly in two by sword energy, as if the water was solid, not liquid. No, even if it were solid, no ordinary strength could achieve this.

Had they been rescued?

Squinting into the distance, he could just make out a figure standing on the shore, though from here their features were indistinguishable.