Reincarnated In One Piece: The Odyssey of Jack the Black Blade

It had been a month since my first battle with Helmepo.

In that time, I hadn't been idle.

By day, I honed my swordsmanship, working tirelessly to understand the blade's weight, its flow, its deadly grace.

By night, I delved into a world drenched in blood, replaying battles in the Colosseum, each encounter a brutal exercise in survival. I've killed a Hellmepo in countless ways now—name a method, and I've likely executed it. Through this relentless cycle, my understanding of combat has grown immensely.

Slowly but surely, I've started to believe that I might be ready to take on a real Marine soldier.

But before I could take that step, I needed one thing: a proper sword.

Swords, however, are far from cheap in this world. Yet fate, as unpredictable as it is , smiled upon me.

Exactly one month after my arrival in the world of One Piece, I encountered my first pirate.

He was shipwrecked, lying helpless on the shore, and to my fortune, he had a bounty of 2 million berries on his head.

Sure, 2 million berries isn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough to buy me a simple saber.

Sabers, after all, are cheaper than swords, and at this point, I couldn't afford to be picky.

The man lay there, sprawled out like a newborn stripped of his comfort, coughing seawater from his lungs.

As I approached, his eyes fluttered open, and he gasped for air. He had no time to understand where he was or what had happened. Without hesitation, I struck.

I fought him as mercilessly as the fighters in the Colosseum had taught me—no pause, no mercy, only unrelenting brutality.

My fists slammed into him over and over, each blow jarring my arms with pain. Fighting with bare hands was a departure from my usual knife combat, and it hurt—every punch reverberated through my bones. But I didn't stop.

Around the 30th blow, the man's body gave out. He lay lifeless at my feet, and I dragged him through the streets of the town, leaving behind a dark, wet trail of blood like breadcrumbs marking my path.

When I reached the Marine outpost, I heaved his body onto the ground before the gates.

Blood pooled around his limp frame as I stepped inside to collect the bounty.

The coins jingled in the pouch they handed me—a sound as sweet as any melody.

For the first time in this world, I had money in my hands, and I didn't even have to risk my life too much to get it.

The world, at least today, had been good to me.

With my earnings, I marched to the nearest weapons shop.

There, I purchased my first saber. It was a modest weapon, unadorned and practical, but to me, it felt like a treasure.

Tonight, I would put it to use. Tonight, Jack D. Blade would face his first Marine soldier in the Colosseum.

As I walked through the familiar corridors of the arena, a sensation crept over me—not the nervous tremors of my first battle, but something different.

Excitement. Anticipation. I didn't fear the fight ahead; I craved it. I knew, deep down, that the Marine soldier wouldn't leave the Colosseum alive.

Before stepping into the arena, I glanced once more at the sword that had mocked me for weeks.

Over the course of the month, I'd managed to lift it a mere five centimeters from the ground—a pitiful feat. I was still far too weak to wield it effectively in combat, let alone swing it. With a quiet resolve, I set it aside and stepped into the arena, greeted by the thunderous cheers of the crowd. Their voices filled me with pride. The hesitation and fear I'd felt in my first fight were long gone.

All that remained was the hunger for blood, the unshakable desire to kill.

The Marine soldier stood before me, his stance steady, his eyes sharp. The fight began in an instant.

He lunged with a powerful swing, and I barely managed to parry the strike, the force of it rattling through my saber.

Using the moment, I delivered a swift kick to his stomach, sending him staggering backward and giving myself the distance I needed to act.

I reached down, scooping up a handful of sand from the arena floor.

Without hesitation, I flung it into his face. He recoiled, blinded and disoriented.

Wasting no time, I moved in, slashing at his knee with surgical precision.

My saber sliced through the joint, and he collapsed to the ground, his screams echoing through the arena. He was helpless now, and I didn't hesitate. My blade descended one final time, silencing him for good.

The fight was over before I knew it, far easier than I had anticipated. Had I overprepared? Been too cautious? Or was I simply driven by a fear of death that lingered in the corners of my mind—a trauma born from the Colosseum's brutal lessons? After all, who wants to die?

Standing there, the cheers of the crowd washing over me, I felt a mix of emotions: triumph, relief, and something darker

. The path I'd chosen was one of blood and risk, but today, it had rewarded me. And as I left the arena, saber in hand, I knew this was only the beginning.