“Ah!”
Old Jerry’s heart-wrenching screams scraped against the ears of the surrounding pirates, instantly silencing their laughter like chickens being choked.
“It hurts! Let me go! Let me go!”
In the midst of the excruciating pain, Old Jerry’s senses became exceptionally sharp.
He seemed to clearly feel his brain, soft as tofu, being squeezed by those skeletal fingers, ready to burst at any moment.
Everything before his eyes went dark, and warm liquid flowed from his eye sockets and his groin.
The difference was that the liquid from his eye sockets was red, while the liquid from his groin was yellow.
“Damn it! Kill him! Kill him now!”
The sudden turn of events stunned the pirates momentarily. Then they all drew their swords and pistols and charged at him from all directions.
Rosha stood there, surrounded by wolves, with his right hand’s five fingers deeply embedded in Old Jerry’s face, holding it up to his own. His expression was a mix of crying and laughing.
“Did you know? I once thought this would be an exciting life, better than the dark fate of my previous one, that this place would be a new journey in my short life.”
“I waited twelve years, but didn’t get comrades who roamed the seas freely in the name of dreams. Instead, I got a stomach that could never be filled, a group of pirates who burned, killed, and looted, and the death of a simple father who only knew how to fish!”
Rosha’s eyes filled with blood, making his deeply set eye sockets glow red.
“Tell me! Why?!”
Uncontrollable grief and anger seemed to explode from within, tearing his soul and body apart.
Rosha, looking like a mad tiger, closed his five fingers embedded in Old Jerry’s eye sockets. Amidst a series of gut-wrenching cracking sounds, Old Jerry’s face shattered, and his body slipped from Rosha’s hand, falling heavily to the ground.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Deafening gunshots rang out as the pirates finally managed to load their muskets in their panic.
The iron bullets, mixed with acrid gunpowder smoke, whizzed past Rosha, missing him completely.
At a mere twenty-meter distance, the pirates’ flintlock pistols seemed like useless toys, with almost zero accuracy.
Only the pirates wielding sharp blades posed a real threat to Rosha.
His stomach growling with hunger, Rosha’s world was a sea of blood. Just standing was already consuming most of his energy.
Let alone facing a dozen bloodthirsty pirates.
Failing to dodge in time, his tall body was struck by four or five blunt blades, pain drilling into his heart, causing his body to sway.
It hurt.
But compared to the beatings from his gambling-addicted father in his previous life and the grief he felt at this moment, it was nothing.
Rosha was not originally from this world.
He had a dark childhood in his previous life.
His father, addicted to gambling, dragged their already struggling family into an abyss.
Unable to bear it, his mother divorced, leaving Rosha to live with his father.
When his father won, he was generous and kind.
He would take Rosha to amusement parks and buffet hotpots.
But when he lost, Rosha’s nightmare began.
Beatings, verbal abuse, hysteria, and blaming the world, his father vented all his anger on him.
This caused young Rosha to develop severe depression early on, closing himself off and rejecting any warmth.
He fell in love with novels, anime, and games.
His grades plummeted.
When the head teacher contacted his father about his situation, it resulted in more beatings for Rosha.
Finally, one early morning, Rosha became a free bird, spreading his wings far from that so-called home.
When Rosha opened his eyes again, he saw two elderly people leaning against each other, their faces full of loving smiles. He then found himself as a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes.
Having a child in their old age, Old John and his wife showered him with love and care.
Rosha finally felt true human warmth.
During the day, Old John went fishing, while Mrs. Elizabeth stayed home, looking after the precious new life, weaving baskets and sieves to trade with the villagers for extra food.
Life was simple, but was Rosha’s dream.
Rosha’s birth greatly burdened the already struggling Old John family.
For some reason, Rosha had an astonishing appetite from birth, growing much faster than his peers.
The people of Red Leaf Village mainly lived by fishing.
There were no other options.
The island was poor in resources and infertile, even planting seeds yielded little.
Maritime traffic was sparse, and months could pass without seeing a merchant ship.
Red Leaf Village had no special products; it was like an isolated island, drifting outside the world.
Ironically, even on such an island, tax collectors from the Lubneiru Kingdom came on time every year to collect taxes and exorbitant Heavenly Tribute.
The immense survival pressure forced Old John and his wife to scrimp and save, becoming even more hardworking.
In such a harsh environment, Rosha remained optimistic and positive.
Partly because he truly felt familial warmth.
Another important reason was that when he grew older, he finally learned from the village chief, the most knowledgeable person in the village, about the world he was in.
This was the world of One Piece!
The anime he loved and adored in his previous life.
Rosha’s love for One Piece was deeply ingrained.
He could accurately name every character, their origin, debut time, and Devil Fruit abilities from the manga.
During his severe depression, it was this passionate and touching anime that helped him through the most challenging times of his life.
When he learned this information, Rosha was ecstatic, feeling his life was complete.
He had loving parents and a sea and distant lands to yearn for.
He even planned his future.
He would train from a young age, become strong, earn a lot of money, and let his parents live without worries.
He would go to East Blue to find his favorite characters like Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji, shamelessly joining their pirate crew to see the grand ocean.
Maybe one day, he could meet and fight the powerful people of the sea.
He even thought that his body, which was far taller than his peers, might contain an unknown mysterious power, helping him one day stand on the world’s stage.
These fantasies were shattered three years ago when his mother, Mrs. Elizabeth, died of a common cold.
He couldn’t understand how a simple cold could take his mother.
Weren’t the people in the world of One Piece supposed to have monstrous physiques?
Harsh realities followed, revealing the true face of this world to Rosha.
As he grew, his appetite became more exaggerated.
Food enough for ten people seemed like nothing to Rosha.
His stomach was like a bottomless pit, always feeling hungry no matter how much he ate.
Meanwhile, his height shot up like bamboo after rain, reaching an astonishing 2.3 meters by age twelve.
His insatiable stomach caused severe malnutrition, making his hair turn white and his body emaciated, leaving him with only a large skeletal frame and a layer of skin.
Such a Rosha couldn’t even help with the simple task of casting and pulling in fishing nets.
He became a burden, staying home daily, waiting for his father to return from fishing, and feeding him 99% of the catch.
Old John, losing his wife, became increasingly aged.
Every time Rosha saw his father return exhausted from fishing, but with a loving smile upon entering the house, he couldn’t stop his tears.
Rosha hated his uselessness.
He considered ending his life again, freeing the poor old man.
One day, after Old John left the house, Rosha sat for a long time and then found a rusty fish spear.
Unexpectedly, as he was about to pierce his throat, Old John, who usually worked all day, returned.
That day, Rosha, for the first time in this world, got beaten by Old John, who had red eyes and beat him for half an hour.
Afterward, in tears, Old John told him, “Child, remember, your arrival in this world didn’t harm me; it saved me and Elizabeth. No matter what happens, even if I leave one day, you must live strong and live better than us. Your life hasn’t started yet; your life is meaningful!”
Since then, Rosha regained his spirit, doing his best for the family.
He stopped fantasizing about those elusive dreams.
When Old John went fishing, Rosha would pick up shells and small fish on the beach.
He learned to weave delicate bracelets and necklaces from the shells.
Rosha set aside his modern shyness, trading woven items with the village women for hard black bread, fish, and shrimp.
He remembered the first time he brought home the black bread he traded for. Old John, crying like a child, said, “My boy has grown up and will be a fine man. Elizabeth would be proud of you.”
Then came today.
Old John felt unwell, and Rosha forced him to stay home, not letting him fish.
Rosha left early for the beach to collect shells and fish.
Today’s harvest was excellent. He even found a crab as big as a wooden basin.
He was delighted, already planning in his mind how to cook a delicious dinner with the crab, dried fish, and black bread.
Then he saw the burning village, the sky red with flames.
Running back in despair, he saw their familiar wooden house reduced to ruins.
Old John clutched the black bread Rosha had traded for yesterday, letting the flames burn his body, still trying to protect that insignificant piece of black bread in his arms.
Slash!
A blade cut into Rosha’s emaciated skin but was stopped by his hard bones, unable to penetrate further.
The pirates surrounding Rosha, who had been grinning maliciously, gradually realized a terrifying fact.
No matter how they hacked at him, the skeletal man before them stood firm.
No screams!
No retreat!
No crying or begging!
Even as blood stained his entire body, he stood there, emitting an increasingly intense aura of determination, like a demon risen from the depths of hell.
Finally, one pirate couldn’t contain his fear, screaming in terror as he dropped his dull blade and turned to flee.
The pirate believed that was no longer a man!
In the midst of it all, it felt as if a dark will was rising from deep within Rosha, threatening to engulf him entirely.
“Why? Why? Why?”
A voice in his heart roared.
“Why must I suffer like this? Do I, Rosha, not deserve a decent life?”
“Must commoners die, and weakness be a sin?”
He suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes looking like those of a vengeful spirit, glaring at the Ripper, Jericho, not far away, and his voice boomed like thunder.
“Answer me! Pirate!!”
Boom!
An unknown power surged within him.
The ground beneath his feet cracked as the maddened Rosha spread his arms and lunged into the group of pirates like a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey. The pirates, horrified, saw him sweep his right arm in a broad arc, shattering their dull blades with terrifying force.
The escalating power hit several pirates at once. Before they could scream, the force dislocated their upper bodies, causing their bones to snap and their bodies to resemble crushed tomatoes, with blood spraying from every direction.
“Let go of me! Get away from me!”
A pirate, unable to dodge, was tackled by Rosha. With his two large hands gripping the pirate’s shoulders like steel pincers, Rosha opened his mouth full of sharp teeth and bit down hard on the pirate’s face.
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