OP: Lord of Mischief C1-10 (Patreon)

Author's Note

This novel is a One Piece fanfiction. I know I’ve been starting new stories without continuing my previous ones—I’m simply experimenting and exploring different styles to find what I’m most comfortable with. This fanfic will likely reach 10,000 words or more.

I wrote this purely for fun, hoping to reignite my passion for writing. Lately, I’ve struggled with motivation due to the hardships I’ve faced. Even now, I’m still waiting for my home to be fully rebuilt.

I hope you can understand why I keep starting new projects. Sometimes, I run out of ideas for my two main stories, and writing something different helps spark inspiration for them.

This fanfic isn’t just about power fights—it also includes comedy and character-driven storytelling. I really wanted to try something different with this one, focusing more on character development rather than action. Unlike my other stories, this won’t be as fast-paced.

I also aimed to make this novel fun to read, so the pacing might feel a bit slower than what you’re used to.

I’d love for you to give this fanfic a read and share your honest thoughts. If there’s enough interest, I might continue it—perhaps posting multiple chapters in a single update once a week. Let me know what you think!


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{Chapter 1: Augustus}

- - -

In the vast sea, a flock of seagulls soared through the sky, their wings cutting against the soft yet powerful wind. Their cries echoed as they glided in a singular direction, following unseen currents.

Amidst them, one particular bird stood out—a peculiar sight among the ordinary seagulls. It wore a small white hat, a satchel slung around its neck, and a stack of newspapers tucked beneath its wing.

The sight was ridiculous, almost comical.

The Coo-Coo Bird—the famous messenger of the sea, delivering news across the world.

Unlike its fellow seabirds, the Coo-Coo Bird veered away from the flock, flapping its wings toward a lone boat floating in the distance.

Aboard the small vessel, a young man lay sprawled out, his posture relaxed yet aimless. An unlit cigarette rested between his lips, his green eyes half-lidded as he gazed at the sky in a daze. The wind tousled his dark, messy hair. His clothes, though luxurious in design, were crumpled and stained, giving him an air of disheveled nobility.

His eyes flickered toward the incoming bird, and he hummed in amusement.

The Coo-Coo Bird landed on the boat and extended the newspaper with a practiced motion.

"Ah, a newspaper," the young man muttered. "Let’s see what’s happening in the world." He tossed a coin into the bird’s satchel and took the newspaper.

Without lingering, the bird took off once more, flapping its wings back into the open sky.

Unfolding the paper, his gaze landed on the bold headline:

[KRIEG PIRATES ENTER GRAND LINE—RETURN IN RUINS!]

A grainy image of the once-feared pirate crew now reduced to wreckage accompanied the text.

"Oh?" He raised a brow, flipping through the pages without much interest. "Never heard of them."

Yawning, he leaned back against the wooden deck. "Not that it matters. I just want to learn more about this world… Damn, if I knew I'd be thrown into a fictional world, I would’ve forced myself to watch One Piece."

That’s right.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

In his past life, he had been an ordinary employee on Earth. A mundane existence, abruptly cut short when a stray bullet lodged itself in his heart.

He had thought it was the end.

Then, against all logic, he awoke in this world, reincarnated as Augustus Lancaster, a noble of the Oykot Kingdom.

The memory transfer had been agonizing. A pounding headache accompanied the flood of foreign thoughts and experiences—the life of a privileged young noble, his status, his family.

At first, Augustus believed he could lead a peaceful, unremarkable life in this world. After all, he had no knowledge of One Piece’s plot. He hadn’t even watched a single episode. Why waste time on hundreds of episodes when he could be working instead?

But reality was cruel.

His so-called family wasted no time discarding him. The original Augustus had apparently offended the royal family, sealing his fate. At just fifteen, he was exiled—stripped of his status, his home, and his future.

And so, here he was, drifting through the sea on a small boat, with only the bare necessities his kind family had provided—some bread, dried meat, and a few supplies.

No direction. No purpose.

Marine? Pirate? Bounty hunter?

None of it appealed to him.

He sighed, folding the newspaper and staring at the vast horizon.

His current situation eerily mirrored his life—lost at sea, aimless, with no idea where he was headed.

Just a lone boat floating in an endless ocean.

A needle in the vast sea.

Augustus' eyes skimmed over the newspaper, his mind wandering as he read. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy, and before he realized it, sleep overtook him.

The gentle rocking of the boat, the rhythmic waves lapping against the wood—it all lulled him into deeper slumber.

Time passed, unnoticed.

He remained lost in sleep, completely unaware of the looming shadow on the horizon.

A ship approached.

From the skull-emblazoned flag fluttering atop its mast, it was clear—pirates.

Laughter erupted from the deck as the crew spotted the lone figure, sleeping soundly in the middle of the vast sea.

"Hah! Look at this idiot," a lean man scoffed, arms crossed as he smirked at Augustus. "Who the hell sleeps this freely out here? Does he think the sea is his personal bedroom?"

The surrounding pirates chuckled, entertained by the bizarre sight.

"What do you want to do with him, Captain Elias?" one of the crew members asked.

All eyes turned to their captain.

Elias was lean yet well-built, his athletic frame hinting at both strength and agility. His steel-gray eyes gleamed under the sunlight, and his silvery-gray hair, neatly combed back, added to his composed and mature demeanor. A well-groomed beard and faint scars on his face gave him the air of a seasoned warrior.

The man in question chuckled, a deep and smooth sound. "What do we do with him?" he mused, tilting his head before his lips curled into a grin.

"Isn't it obvious? We bring him aboard."

He let out a short laugh, voice dripping with amusement. "After all, we can’t just leave the poor kid out here. What if he catches a cold?"

Laughter burst across the deck.

Without hesitation, a few pirates leaped onto the small boat and hoisted Augustus up. To their amazement, he barely stirred.

"This kid… he's really out cold."

"We’re talking so loud, moving him around, and he’s still sleeping!"

"Check if he’s dead," one joked.

A loud snore answered them.

More laughter.

"Should we sell him off?" someone jested.

"Maybe make him our cabin boy?" another suggested with a grin.

They bantered like pirates should—rowdy and playful—but then—

"Hah! If we were any other pirate crew, maybe." A deep feminine voice cut through their chatter.

Matilda, the ship’s vice-captain, leaned against the railing. Her short hair framed her sharp features, and her muscular yet lean physique made her presence commanding. Despite her rough exterior, her smirk carried warmth.

"But we’re the Silver Hook Pirates," she reminded them, her tone laced with pride. "We don’t take advantage of people."

The others chuckled and nodded.

Indeed.

Unlike most pirates, the Silver Hook crew wasn’t made up of cutthroats and slavers.

Captain Elias didn’t take Augustus because he planned to enslave him or sell him off.

No, it was the opposite.

He had taken the boy because if they didn’t, someone else might. And those pirates might not be as kind.

"Are you thinking of making him one of us?" Matilda asked, watching as Augustus was carried into a cabin and laid on a bed.

Elias glanced at the sleeping youth before shrugging. "That’s up to him," he said simply. "I just didn’t want to leave him out there for some real pirates to find."

Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "If he wakes up and wants to leave, let him. No one forces anyone here."

Matilda raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. You’re the boss," she said with a chuckle.

The crew exchanged amused glances.

This was why they followed Elias.

He was different.

Unlike most pirate captains, Elias wasn’t a tyrant. He didn’t rule by fear, nor did he revel in cruelty. Instead of preying on the weak, he often found himself chasing off other pirates or lending aid to struggling sailors.

But despite their good intentions, the world saw them as nothing more than criminals.

After all, to the common people and the Marines—

A pirate is still a pirate.


++++++++++++++++++++++++


{Chapter 2: Silver Hook Pirates}

- - -


Augustus remained blissfully unaware that he had been kidnapped by pirates.

When he finally stirred, his brows furrowed in confusion. The soft bed beneath him, the dim lantern casting a warm glow, and the plate of food on the nearby desk—it was all too strange.

His mind jolted awake.

What the hell?

He was supposed to be on his boat. Floating in the sea. Alone.

Yet here he was.

Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "Where am I?" He rubbed his eyes, but the truth didn’t change. He was no longer on the cold, hard planks of his boat. He was indoors. In a proper room.

A sinking feeling crept into his gut. His expression darkened.

"Don't tell me I transmigrated again?"

A ridiculous thought. But wasn't transmigration how he ended up in the fictional world in the first place?

Did I die in my sleep?

He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. But then, something caught his attention—his clothes.

Still the same dirty yet luxurious outfit he had been wearing before.

That ruled out the idea of reincarnation. If he had been shoved into another body again, his attire wouldn’t have carried over.

Then… someone moved me here?

It was the only logical explanation.

"But how the hell did someone carry me without waking me up?" He sighed, pressing a palm against his forehead. "Did I really sleep that soundly?"

His gaze shifted to the food on the desk. His stomach growled.

"Well… whatever. Good timing." Without hesitation, he grabbed the plate and started eating.

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.
.


Once he finished his meal, Augustus cautiously stepped out of the room.

The moment he set foot on the deck, his chest tightened.

He wasn’t on his boat, alright.

He was on a ship.

A pirate ship.

His eyes darted to the flag fluttering high above—the unmistakable skull insignia of pirates.

His stomach dropped.

Shit. Don’t tell me I got captured while I was asleep, drifting like an idiot?

His heart pounded as he pressed himself against the wooden railing. He couldn’t be reckless. If these pirates were dangerous, he had to get out quietly.

I need to find my boat.

His mind raced through escape scenarios. If worst came to worst, he’d jump into the sea—but hell no.

He was terrified of the sea.

It had taken every ounce of courage just to leave Oykot Kingdom on a boat, and now he was supposed to dive straight into the ocean?

Not happening.

Keeping his steps light, he crept along the deck, scanning for his boat.

Then, his ears caught something—laughter, chatter, the clinking of drinks.

His curiosity got the better of him.

Carefully, he peeked around a stack of barrels. A group of pirates were gathered on deck, drinking and laughing around a silver-haired man.

Eavesdropping, he listened closely.

"Hahaha! I still can’t believe Captain got a bounty for 'illegal smuggling' and 'unauthorized trading' when all he did was help people!" One pirate guffawed.

"Yeah! I remember the look on his face when he saw his wanted poster!" Another pirate cackled. "His eyes nearly popped out!"

Augustus frowned.

What?

He had expected a conversation about looting, pillaging, or selling captives—not this.

His eyes narrowed, shifting to the silver-haired man at the center of it all.

The Captain.

Elias.

The man didn’t carry the sinister air of a ruthless pirate. He was smiling, sipping his drink while his crew laughed around him.

"I remember when Captain saved that group of civilians from a shipwreck," a boyish woman with short hair—clearly strong despite her lean build—spoke up. "Only for those civilians to be undercover Marines who turned around and increased his bounty to five hundred thousand beli!"

The crew erupted into laughter.

The so-called infamous Captain Elias chuckled into his cup, shaking his head. "I was just helping."

"Yeah, helping—straight to a higher bounty!" one pirate teased.

Another grinned. "Hey, Captain, what if that kid you just picked up turns out to be some Marine fugitive? Think your bounty will go up again?"

More laughter followed.

Elias exhaled, setting his drink down. His steel-gray eyes held a faint amusement. "If that kid was a Marine fugitive…" He shrugged. "Then I’d be glad I helped him."

The crew let out a round of approving chuckles.

Augustus, still hidden, absorbed everything.

From what he had seen—and overheard—it was obvious.

These weren’t your typical pirates.

They weren’t brutal killers, slavers, or merciless raiders.

And most importantly, from the moment he woke up, he hadn’t been mistreated. Instead, they had given him a warm bed and a full meal.

They meant no harm.

Realizing this, Augustus quietly turned back toward his room.

There was no need to act rashly. Not yet.

Tomorrow, he would get to know the pirates who had taken him aboard.

The night passed, and the pirates on the deck lay sprawled in deep, drunken slumber.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Elias groggily stirred awake. His head throbbed slightly, a clear sign that they had overindulged the night before.

Rubbing his temples, he glanced around at the sorry sight of his crew—some snoring loudly, others lying in comically awkward positions.

He let out a chuckle. "Looks like we went overboard with the drinking again."

Stretching his limbs, he prepared to stand, but then—

Tap. Tap.

His sharp ears picked up faint footsteps coming from within the ship’s interior.

He frowned.

Everyone was still passed out here on the deck. Who the hell is inside?

Most wouldn’t have noticed such subtle sounds, but Elias’ hearing was far sharper than the average person’s. It had saved his skin countless times throughout his career as a pirate.

His gaze shifted to the burly man sleeping beside him—One-Eyed Olf Tannen.

Olf was a stocky, powerfully built man with tanned skin and long black hair streaked with gray. A worn leather eyepatch covered his left eye, giving him a fearsome appearance.

Elias nudged him with his boot. No response.

He sighed and shook his head. Damn heavy sleeper.

Realizing he wouldn’t be getting any backup, Elias stood and moved silently toward the ship’s interior.

Stepping inside, he followed the sound, his movements practiced and quiet. The dim lantern light flickered as he rounded a corner—

His eyes widened in surprise.

Standing in the galley, completely at ease, was the young man they had taken in yesterday.

The kid was focused on cooking.

Elias watched in curiosity as Augustus heated a pot of water, cut fish with precise movements, and carefully measured rice. The rhythmic sound of chopping filled the room, and the scent of fresh ingredients drifted through the air.

For a moment, Elias simply observed.

Then, he muttered under his breath, "What the hell is this kid up to?"


++++++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 3: Repaying the favor}

- - -

Augustus felt the need to repay the pirates for their hospitality.

It wasn’t much, but cooking was something he could do. He had some basic skills from his previous life, so preparing a simple meal wasn’t an issue.

Today, he was making Ochazuke—a simple Japanese dish he used to prepare whenever he had time back in his past life.

As he poured hot water over the ingredients, a deep voice broke the silence.

"So it was you cooking in here."

Augustus turned his head and saw the silver-haired man from last night—Captain Elias.

He nodded in greeting, offering a casual smile. "Oh, Captain. Morning."

Elias crossed his arms, observing Augustus with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The kid’s relaxed demeanor surprised him—especially how naturally he referred to him as captain, despite them barely knowing each other.

Interesting.

"What are you making?" Elias asked, eyeing the sliced fish and steaming pot.

"Ochazuke," Augustus answered simply, continuing his work, completely unbothered by Elias' presence.

"Ocha...what now?" Elias raised an eyebrow, the name unfamiliar to him.

"Ochazuke," Augustus repeated. "It’s a simple dish—rice with toppings, soaked in green tea."

Elias' brows furrowed. "Tea? On rice?" His expression twisted slightly. "That sounds... questionable."

Augustus chuckled. "Just watch."

Elias shrugged, leaning against the doorway. "Fine. As long as you’re not poisoning us, go ahead."

Augustus smirked but didn’t respond. He continued preparing the dish, moving with practiced efficiency.

Elias watched in silence.

Despite his initial skepticism, he had to admit—the kid had some skill.

After a few moments, Elias finally spoke again. "I just realized—I never asked your name, kid."

Augustus wiped his hands on a cloth and gave a small, elegant bow. "The name’s Augustus. Pleasure to meet you, Captain."

Elias nodded. "I don’t recall telling you I was the captain. How did you figure that out?"

Augustus grinned. "I overheard your crew talking last night while they were drinking. They kept calling you ‘Captain Elias.’ So I put two and two together."

Elias chuckled. "I see. Well, you were listening in at the right time."

His tone then turned more curious. "Waking up on a pirate ship must have made you nervous. But now that you’ve had time to think… you realize we’re not the wrong kind of pirates, huh?"

Augustus didn’t deny it. "You’re right."

Then, he added, "You gave me a bed and a meal instead of throwing me overboard or chaining me up. The least I could do is cook as a thank-you."

Elias’ lips curled into a small, pleased smile. He crossed his arms and nodded. "That’s kind of you."

Then his expression turned more serious. "But I have to ask—what were you doing in the middle of the sea alone? You do realize how dangerous it is, right?"

He continued, "Not just anyone can survive out there. The ocean is merciless. And sleeping on a boat in the middle of nowhere? You’re damn lucky it was us who found you first."

Augustus remained focused on his cooking, but his voice turned quieter.

"I can’t tell you the full story, but to keep it short—I was kicked out by my family. I had no choice but to set sail on my own."

Elias was silent for a moment, studying him.

He could tell there was more to the story, but he didn’t press.

"Fair enough," Elias finally said, nodding solemnly. "Everyone has their own circumstances."


.
.
.


A while later, Augustus finished cooking.

Elias, who had observed the entire process, was naturally the first to taste it.

The pirates trusted each other well enough, and Elias had no reason to suspect anything harmful in the food.

He picked up the bowl and took the first bite.

The warmth spread through his mouth immediately.

The rice, soft and fluffy, soaked up the delicate umami of the broth, while the mild bitterness of the green tea balanced the flavors perfectly. The fish, lightly seasoned, melted effortlessly on his tongue.

A deep hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest.

Then, something unexpected happened.

The lingering effects of last night’s drinking—the dull headache, the dryness in his throat—began to fade.

The hot broth soothed him, washing away the grogginess.

His body, sluggish from alcohol, suddenly felt lighter.

Elias blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

After another spoonful, he let out a low chuckle. "Damn. This actually hits the spot."

Augustus smirked. "Told you."

Elias glanced at him, impressed. "This is some real recovery food. Maybe I should start having you cook after every drinking night."

Augustus chuckled. "Well, if you keep giving me food and a place to sleep, I might consider it."

Elias laughed, shaking his head as he continued eating.

Yeah.

This kid was interesting.

Elias set down his bowl with a satisfied sigh.

"Alright," he declared, stretching his arms. "You can be a cook on my ship."

Augustus raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

Elias smirked. "Yeah. We’re seriously lacking good cooks around here. Our head cook is an unserious bastard who throws random ingredients together and calls it a meal. No plan, no structure—just chaos in a pot."

Augustus chuckled. "Sounds… adventurous."

"More like disastrous," Elias corrected with a shake of his head. "So yeah, I could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing in the kitchen."

Augustus bowed slightly, a small grin on his lips. "Then I must thank you, Captain."

Elias nodded approvingly. "That dish you made was damn good—perfect for a hungover crew. You’ve got good instincts." He then glanced at the portions left on the table. "I’d suggest making more. My crew’s about twenty men strong."

Augustus nodded. "On it."

Later that morning, the crew gradually woke up, groaning and rubbing their temples.

What did surprise them, though, was the news that Elias had taken the kid they rescued yesterday and given him the role of a cook.

The most indignant of them all? Casper, the head cook.

Storming into the galley, Casper—an older, scruffy-looking man with a permanent frown—crossed his arms. "Captain! What’s this nonsense about a new cook? That’s my kitchen!"

Elias barely spared him a glance. "If you can cook as well as Augustus, I’ll reconsider."

Casper scoffed, puffing up his chest. "Hah! You’re saying a kid cooks better than me? I’ve been cooking for years!"

Elias smirked. "Then prove it."

Augustus, standing off to the side, simply watched with mild amusement as Elias gestured for him to bring out portions of Ochazuke for the crew.

Reluctantly, the men gathered around, looking at their bowls with hesitation.

"...Tea?" one of them muttered.

"You poured tea on rice?" another questioned, eyeing Augustus like he had committed some culinary sin.

But the moment the first spoonful hit their tongues—

Eyes widened.

Spoons moved faster.

One by one, the crew dug in, the comforting flavors easing their hangovers almost instantly.

Matilda, the vice-captain, let out a satisfied hum. "This is good!"

"Didn’t expect tea and rice to work together like this…" one pirate admitted between bites.

"It’s soothing. I feel human again," another sighed in relief.

As for Casper?

The once-indignant head cook was completely silent—because he was too busy shoveling spoonful after spoonful into his mouth.

The realization hit him like a cannonball.

The kid’s cooking is better than mine.

By the time he finished, his shoulders slumped, and tears welled up in his eyes.

The crew snickered.

"Oi, Casper, you crying?"

"Shut up!" Casper snapped, wiping his face furiously. "I just—dammit, I can’t even argue!"

Elias clapped Augustus on the shoulder. "Looks like you’ve earned your spot, kid."

Augustus simply smirked. "Glad to be of service."



++++++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 4: Getting wasted}

- - -


It had been a week since Augustus joined the Silver Hook pirates, and in that time, he had grown accustomed to life aboard the ship.

The crew had warmed up to him, and he, in turn, started enjoying their company. They even gave him a nickname—Chef August—which nearly everyone used now.

They loved his cooking, and he appreciated how they treated him as one of their own.

At the deck, Augustus was sparring with Olf, their wooden swords clashing as they playfully tested each other's reflexes.

Matilda stood at the ship’s railing, watching the scene unfold. Beside her, Elias leaned against the wood, arms crossed, his gaze distant.

"That kid got used to us pretty quickly," Matilda remarked, eyes tracking Augustus’ movements.

"Yeah…" Elias muttered, but there was something off about his tone.

Matilda’s sharp instincts picked up on it immediately. She turned her head slightly. "What’s wrong?"

Elias sighed, rubbing his fingers along his temple. "I don’t know." His voice was laced with unease. "I just have a bad feeling, Matilda."

Matilda fell silent. It wasn’t often that Elias spoke like this.

She was the only one he confided in about his worries. The only one who knew how much he carried on his shoulders.

"Is it about Augustus?" she asked.

Elias shook his head. "No… it’s just this life we lead." His silver-gray eyes flickered toward the horizon. "We’re pirates, Matilda. Dangers lurk everywhere. Unlike Marines, who have each other’s backs, pirates see each other as enemies. You never know who might stab you in yours."

She exhaled through her nose. "You’re thinking too much again."

"Am I?" Elias’ tone was firm. "Every time I feel this way, trouble follows."

And he wasn’t wrong.

The last time he had this feeling, they had been caught in a bandit trap—a brutal fight that ended with casualties. Another time, they had encountered a sea devil and barely survived.

"We have to be careful," Elias continued, his gaze locking onto Augustus, who was still playfully sparring with Olf. "Especially now that we have someone new on board."

Matilda followed his gaze and nodded. "I’ll tell the crew to be on guard."

Elias grunted in approval. "Good."

With that, Matilda left to pass on the orders.

Elias remained standing at the railing, arms crossed, staring out into the endless ocean.

That foreboding feeling still clung to him.

Stronger than before.

He trusted his instincts.

After all, alongside his sharp hearing, he had always possessed an uncanny ability to sense danger before it struck.

Time passed quickly, and two weeks after Augustus’ arrival, the ship finally approached an island.

They were running low on resources—freshwater, food, and supplies—so a stop was necessary.

Augustus followed the captain and crew as they disembarked, stepping into the quiet village.

The tension in the air was palpable.

The villagers eyed them with open suspicion.

At the center of the gathering stood an old man, presumably the village chief. He clutched a rusted but functional rifle. Around him, villagers armed themselves with whatever they could find—sticks, stones, farming tools turned into makeshift weapons.

Elias stepped forward, his expression calm. "We mean no harm," he stated evenly. "We just need to restock our supplies before we set sail again."

The village chief studied him warily before speaking. "As long as you don’t steal from us, we won’t have any problems."

Elias nodded. "We have money. We’ll pay for whatever we take."

The villagers exchanged glances, whispering among themselves before reluctantly stepping aside.

"Fine," the chief finally said. "You can stay—but don’t cause trouble."

Even with permission granted, the wariness in their eyes didn’t fade.

Augustus could see it plainly.

These people had dealt with pirates before.

And from the looks of it, those encounters had been anything but peaceful.


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After settling into the village, Augustus and the crew made their way to the local pub. The place welcomed them, and soon, the pirates were drinking and laughing as if they owned the night.

Augustus, however, didn’t join in. At fifteen years old, he was still a minor. While a cigarette rested between his lips, it was never lit.

In his previous life, he had been a smoker, but in this world, he swore never to touch it again. Strangely enough, his new body never craved nicotine—his lungs felt clean, and there was no addiction to fight off. It was only his mind that clung to the habit, like a ghost of his past life.

So, he kept the cigarette on his lips out of habit. Nothing more.

"Want a drink, kid?" Elias asked, sliding a cup of sake toward him.

Augustus quickly shook his head, waving his hands. "No, thanks."

"Come on, kid! Have a toast!" Matilda hollered, laughing as the rest of the crew joined in.

Augustus sighed. "Can't you guys see? I’m fifteen! I can’t drink until I’m eighteen!"

The pub fell silent.

Augustus blinked. Wait… why did they all stop?

The entire crew stared at him.

For a moment, there was nothing but quiet—then, as if a dam had burst, roaring laughter exploded throughout the room.

"Hahahaha!"

Augustus frowned, insulted. "What’s so funny?"

Olf wiped a tear from his eye, grinning. "Kid, you’re hilarious!"

"Why?"

Another crew member slapped the table. "Did you just say you have to wait until eighteen to drink?"

"So what if you're fifteen?" someone snorted.

"I started drinking at seven!" another pirate bragged.

"Wait, wait—this kid's never had alcohol before?! No wonder he never drinks with us on the ship!"

Augustus felt his face heat up. Shit… there’s no drinking age in this world, is there?

Elias smirked, pointing at the cigarette hanging from Augustus' lips. "I’ve seen you with that thing for days, but I’ve never once seen you light it." His smirk widened. "Or are you waiting to turn eighteen to smoke, too?"

Laughter erupted once again.

Even the pub owner and his daughter, a pretty young woman who had been serving drinks, chuckled as they placed more bottles on the table.

Augustus clenched his jaw, his pride as an adult taking a hit.

When someone jokingly asked if he was a girl for refusing, that was the final straw.

"Alright, damn it. I’ll drink!" he snapped, grabbing a bottle and pouring himself a cup.

The crew cheered as he downed it in one gulp.

The alcohol burned his throat, but he managed to keep a straight face.

The crew cheered louder.

Encouraged by their chants, he poured himself another.

Then another.

By the third drink, the world was already spinning.

But something about it felt good.

The warmth in his chest, the way the energy in the room buzzed around him—it was intoxicating in more ways than one.

"One more! One more!" he shouted, grabbing a bottle and chugging straight from it.

The pirates erupted into laughter.

"Augustus! Augustus!" they chanted as he stumbled, reaching for yet another drink.

Elias shook his head, taking a slow sip of his own drink. "Damn lightweight."

Augustus, completely wasted, found himself in the middle of the pub, swaying to the music.

His eyes landed on Matilda.

"You… you're such a hot lady, Matilda," he slurred. "Manly, but… womanly."

Matilda chuckled. "That so?"

Augustus suddenly leaned in, his drunken grin widening. "Hug me, Matilda!"

The crew howled with laughter.

Matilda, amused but slightly exasperated, tried to step back. "You drank too much, kid."

"You wouldn’t be saying that if you were in your senses," she teased.

Augustus didn’t care. He threw his arms around her, holding on tight.

Matilda sighed. "Oi, let go."

"Nope!"

The pub roared with amusement as Matilda tried to pry Augustus off.

The night continued in a blur of drunken antics until, finally, Augustus was too far gone to function.

With great difficulty, the crew managed to escort him to his room.

The pub owner’s daughter personally guided him upstairs, shaking her head at his ridiculous state.

Meanwhile, Elias and the rest of the crew, still laughing, decided to call it a night.

As the pub quieted, the sound of drunken snores echoed from the rooms above.



+++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 5: Danger!!!}

- - -


Elias and his crew drank that night, but not recklessly.

Despite the laughter and the celebratory mood, they never fully let their guard down. The captain’s unease lingered in their minds, and none of them allowed themselves to get truly drunk.

After all, they were still pirates.

And in a village that had every reason to distrust them, letting their guard down completely would be foolish.

Hours passed.

Nothing happened.

By the time morning arrived, the village remained quiet, and no threats had emerged.


.
.
.


Augustus groaned as he woke up, gripping his throbbing head.

Damn it. This is why I love and hate alcohol.

The warmth and fun of drinking were great, but the aftereffects? The splitting headache, the nausea, the regret? Horrible.

He sat up, rubbing his temples before giving himself a few light slaps on the cheeks.

"Alright, get it together," he muttered.

Stumbling slightly, he got to his feet and shook off the dizziness.

Then, he stepped out of his room and headed downstairs.

The pub was already lively. Some villagers were having breakfast, and the pub owner’s daughter greeted him as he took a seat.

Augustus managed a small smile in return. "Morning. Coffee, please."

He needed to clear his head.

As he waited for his drink, Elias and several crew members entered, taking their own seats.

Augustus watched as they casually ordered meals—and more alcohol.

His brows twitched.

They drank so much last night, yet they have the guts to drink again this early in the morning?

Shaking his head, he took a sip of his coffee.

Their alcohol tolerance is something to be jealous of…

Day by day, the crew’s presence in the village became less of an issue.

At first, the villagers had remained wary, but as time passed, that distrust softened.

The Silver Hook pirates weren’t causing trouble. In fact, they had started helping out.

Elias and the others assisted in chores around the village—not just to build goodwill, but to earn a little extra coin.

They also dealt with dangerous creatures that wandered too close, keeping the villagers safe.

Slowly, the fear surrounding their presence turned into acceptance.

At the outskirts of the village, Augustus trained under Olf Tannen, refining his shooting skills. The next day, he switched to sword training, sparring against Olf himself.

He was learning fast—faster than expected.

In fact, he even managed to hold his own against some of the weaker crew members.

***

A full month passed.

The Silver Hook pirates had remained on the island longer than usual.

But Elias knew it was time to move on.

Plans were made. Supplies were prepared. The crew was ready to depart.

Then—

On the very day they were set to leave, a ship appeared on the horizon.

A pirate ship.

The village chief rushed to Elias, desperation in his eyes.

"Please," he begged. "Stay and protect us. We don’t know if they’re friend or foe."

Elias didn’t respond immediately.

His steel-gray eyes were locked onto the approaching ship.

His expression darkened.

He recognized that flag.

It belonged to a notorious pirate crew.

And their captain?

A man with a 7-million beli bounty.

"It's the Vargo Pirates!" Matilda exclaimed, her voice tense with alarm.

The crew tensed, and murmurs broke out.

"Vargo? I heard he's worth 7.8 million beli!"

Augustus felt his stomach tighten. He had read about this pirate before.

"Captain Vargo is skilled in combat—very skilled," he muttered. "He's not just strong, he's dirty. He targets weak points... the eyes, the throat, and even..."

He hesitated.

"...the testicles."

A shudder ran through the men. Some instinctively took a step back, shielding themselves as if the mere thought could bring pain.

Augustus coughed, breaking the tension. "Besides that, the Vargo Pirates are infamous for pillaging villages and slaughtering civilians."

Fear spread across the villagers' faces. Some clutched their weapons tighter, while others looked ready to flee.

Elias’ expression hardened. He turned to his crew.

"Prepare your weapons," he ordered, his voice steady. "We fight."

The crew hesitated for only a second before raising their weapons.

"We fight!"

Augustus watched, his heart pounding. He turned to Elias, struggling with doubt.

"C-Captain… are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "They have more men, and they’re probably stronger than us. Are we really about to risk our lives here?"

Elias was silent for a moment. Then, he nodded.

He turned to the villagers.

"I will protect this village," he declared. His voice carried conviction. "These people welcomed us. They gave us shelter and food. They didn’t report us to the Marines. I owe them."

The village chief’s eyes widened in gratitude.

Augustus fell silent.

Elias turned back to his crew.

"If any of you don’t want to fight, you’re free to leave," he said, his tone steady yet unwavering. "No one will judge you. The Vargo Pirates are unlike anything we’ve faced before. This battle will be dangerous, and it could cost lives. If things get tough, you have the choice to run."

But Elias had miscalculated his wording.

The word "leave"—the word "run"—felt like an insult to the pirates of the Silver Hook.

"I will never run."

"I fight beside you, Captain!"

One by one, the crew stood their ground.

Matilda remained silent, observing Elias.

This was it. The danger Elias had been sensing for weeks.

Had this been fate?

Had the villagers treated them poorly at the start, they would have left weeks ago—never crossing paths with a pirate as dangerous as Vargo.

She exhaled sharply, shaking off the thought.

Her gaze drifted to Augustus.

The kid’s unlucky.

Elias looked at him next. "Kid," he said, his voice softer. "You just joined us. You can still walk away."

Augustus’ fists clenched.

"You’re still young," Elias continued. "You have a future beyond this fight. There's no shame in choosing to live."

A heavy silence fell.

Then—

To everyone's shock, Augustus swung a fist.

Elias didn’t dodge.

The punch landed squarely on his chest, forcing him back a step.

The crew froze.

Augustus breathed heavily, glaring at him.

"Don’t underestimate me," he growled. "I didn’t train for weeks just to run. I can fight."

Elias studied him for a moment—then smirked.

"Is that so?" He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Well then, kid… this fight will be your first real test."

The tension in the air thickened.

Elias turned his gaze toward the approaching ship, his eyes narrowing.

He could make out the figure standing at the front of the deck.

Captain Vargo.

The man was tall and broad, his muscular frame distorted by a bloated gut. His face bore deep scars, and his grin was twisted, revealing a set of uneven, yellowed teeth.

His laughter carried over the waves.

"Another island," he sneered. "Another fortune for the taking."



+++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 6: Ruthless Vargo}

- - -

Augustus was terrified. There was no point in pretending otherwise—he wasn’t the only one.

Even his captain, even the most seasoned fighters in their crew, felt fear. They just didn’t show it.

After all, they were about to face a pirate with a 7.8 million beli bounty.

Augustus didn’t need to know the full story of One Piece to understand what that meant. He was living in this world now, and his instincts screamed the same warnings as the people around him.

Brace yourself, Augustus. You can do this…

But could he?

His grip on his sword trembled slightly. His legs felt unsteady beneath him.

Then—

"He’s here!!!"

A panicked voice cut through the air as Vargo’s ship finally reached the shore.

"Attack!!!"

Gunfire erupted from the enemy’s ship. A rifle-wielding pirate aimed straight for the Silver Hook crew.

Olf, quick on the trigger, fired back. His shots landed, but not fatally. Some pirates stumbled, clutching their wounded arms or legs, but they kept moving.

And then—chaos.

Swords clashed. Metal rang through the battlefield.

Elias carved his way through enemy pirates, keeping his eyes locked on Vargo. He knew better than to engage carelessly.

Matilda swung her axe with raw strength, sending pirates flying while dodging and countering blows. Even so, she wasn’t unscathed—minor cuts and bruises were already forming.

The Silver Hook pirates fought fiercely, but the Vargo Pirates outnumbered them.

Fifty men.

The tide was overwhelming.

But then—

The villagers fought back.

Driven by desperation, they picked up whatever weapons they had—rifles, knives, even farming tools—and started attacking. The village chief himself fired his rifle into the fray.

The battlefield became pure chaos.

Augustus’ heart pounded violently in his chest, his breath ragged with fear and adrenaline.

This was nothing like sparring.

Even in his past life, he had never experienced something like this—an all-out fight for survival, where swords clashed and gunfire roared around him.

His mind screamed at him—DANGER.

Right now, winning wasn’t his goal.

Surviving was.

Everything he had learned from Elias, Olf, and Matilda felt useless in the heat of battle. His mind was blank. His body moved purely on instinct.

A pirate lunged at him—he dodged.

Another came from his side—he barely evaded.

Then from behind—he twisted away just in time.

His survival instincts kept him alive, but barely.

He tried to parry, but his movements were stiff.

This was different.

In practice, he could parry effortlessly. But in a real fight, his technique crumbled under pressure.

He lashed out with his sword—too wild, too reckless. His opponent dodged with ease.

Sweat dripped from his forehead. His back was soaked.

He needed to focus. He needed to—

SHNK

Pain.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his right shoulder.

A sword—stabbing straight through him.

A choked groan left his lips as blood poured from the wound.

But he had no time to care.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay on his feet, sword still raised.

There was no stopping.

No breathing room.

He had to keep fighting.

---

Vargo grinned wickedly as he surveyed the battlefield, the chaos unfolding before him like a masterpiece of violence. His laughter rang out, manic and unrestrained.

"Hahaha! This is amazing!" he roared, his sharp, malicious eyes gleaming with amusement.

Villagers and pirates, fighting together just to stand against him—how pathetic.

"Who would've thought a bunch of villagers and some lowly pirates would team up just to take down another pirate? Hahahaha!" He laughed harder, as if the very idea was the greatest joke in the world.

But his amusement was cut short when a body dropped near his feet—a wounded member of his own crew.

Vargo’s eyes flicked forward.

A lone figure approached.

Elias.

His sword dripped crimson, the blood of fallen enemies staining the ground. His expression was unreadable—cold, indifferent, unyielding.

Vargo’s grin widened, revealing his uneven, yellowed teeth.

"Hehe… and you must be the captain of these fools," he said, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. "The one dumb enough to stand against me."

Elias didn’t respond. He simply raised his blade in silent confirmation.

Vargo chuckled, his voice laced with condescension. "Tell me, why are you meddling in another pirate's business?"

Elias remained still. Then, in a calm, unwavering voice, he answered, "Meddling? No. I'm protecting them."

Vargo's smirk twitched. "Protecting them? Hah! What a noble cause." He spread his arms wide as if embracing the sky.

"But tell me, what do you gain in return? Nothing, right?" His voice carried a mocking edge. "What’s the point of protecting people who trust the Marines? People who believe in justice—when the Marines themselves are no better than us?"

Elias remained silent.

Seeing no reaction, Vargo scoffed. "You don’t believe me? Heh. Let me tell you something, Captain." His tone turned sharp, almost indignant. "The Marines are just as corrupt as we are—no, worse. I've seen it firsthand."

He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "You know Captain Nezumi? That bastard’s got a deal with pirates—doing illegal trades, smuggling, bribes—and living like a king while doing it. You think the Marines will ever punish him? No! Because he's one of them."

Vargo threw his arms out dramatically, his voice dripping with venom. "Tell me, isn't that unfair?"

Elias finally spoke, his tone as indifferent as ever. "I don’t care about the Marines." His grip on his sword tightened slightly. "They do whatever they want. Just like we do whatever we want."

Vargo burst into laughter. "Hah! ‘Do whatever we want?’" He shook his head, eyes gleaming with mockery. "No, no, no, Captain. That only applies to them. We? We’re the ones getting hunted."

Elias sighed, rubbing his ear with his pinky finger before flicking away the imaginary earwax in Vargo’s direction. "Then why not just become a Marine?" he asked, his lips curling into a smirk. "Since you’re so fascinated with how much power they have, I’m sure you’d fit right in."

Vargo’s laughter stopped.

His face froze.

For a split second, his entire body stiffened as if the insult had physically struck him.

Then—his grin twitched.

"Me? A Marine?" His voice was low, dangerous.

His teeth clenched, his expression twisting with rage. "Do not compare me to those cowardly bastards!"

With a burst of fury, he lunged.

His sword came down fast. Elias was ready.

Steel met steel.

Clang!

The force of their clash sent a shockwave through the battlefield.

Vargo grinned as he pushed against Elias' blade. "Impressive. You’re not just some nobody pirate, are you?"

Elias didn't respond. He focused, his stance unwavering.

But Vargo's grin widened. "Still not enough."

In one swift motion, he pulled a hidden knife from his belt and flicked it toward Elias.

Elias barely had time to react.

The small blades whizzed through the air—one grazing his cheek, another embedding itself deep into his forearm as he raised it to shield his face.

Blood trickled down his arm.

Vargo’s grin turned feral.

"Let’s see how long you can last."



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 7: Trickster System}

- - -

Elias gritted his teeth as pain surged through his body. His muscles burned, his wounds throbbed, and blood dripped from fresh cuts.

Vargo was exactly as his reputation suggested—dirty, ruthless, and cunning.

But to call it "dirty" would be misleading.

This was just his way of fighting.

Vargo had no honor to uphold, no need for fair duels. He was no samurai. He didn’t fight for pride or glory—he fought to win.

Elias tried to strike back, but Vargo was slippery, dodging with ease, only ever taking minor injuries.

And all the while, he grinned.

Another flick of the wrist. Another hidden knife.

Elias barely had time to react before a blade embedded itself into his thigh. He let out a sharp breath but remained standing.

Vargo’s smirk widened.

"You’re bleeding like a stuck pig, Captain," he mocked. "How much longer do you think you can last?"

Elias exhaled sharply, forcing himself to ignore the pain.

Vargo wasn’t just attacking with blades—he was exhausting him.

If Elias had faced him in a fair sword fight, it might have been even. But Vargo never fought fair. His strategy was clear: wear Elias down, strike when he was weak, and finish the job.

Elias’ injuries were piling up.

He knew it.

Vargo knew it.

But despite the pain, Elias kept going.

"You should’ve sailed away when you had the chance," Vargo sneered, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Now? You're dying for people who wouldn’t do the same for you."

Elias didn’t respond. He had no words left for Vargo.

Instead, he focused.

His mind honed in on the pirate’s movements—the way he shifted weight before throwing a knife, the slight twitch in his fingers, the arc of his strikes.

Elias had been watching him.

Studying him.

He had to win.

Because when he spared a glance at his surroundings, he saw exactly what he feared—his side was losing.

Matilda was covered in wounds, her strength fading.

Olf, skilled as he was, was barely holding on, exhausted from switching between sword and gun.

And then there was Augustus.

The kid was in no better condition than the rest of them. He was bleeding, bruised, his limbs trembling with exhaustion.

And yet—

He was still standing.

The only thing keeping him upright was sheer willpower.

Without that, he'd have been dead already.

---

Augustus staggered back, his breath ragged.

His entire body ached. Every cut, every bruise, every drop of sweat that grazed his wounds burned like fire.

"How the hell did a world I once thought was just a cartoon turn out to be this terrifying?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, anything to keep himself awake.

He could not collapse.

"Can you still fight, kid?"

A voice sneered from nearby.

Augustus lifted his head. A Vargo pirate stood in front of him, smirking.

"If not, just give up."

Another pirate spit at the ground near his feet.

"I gotta admit, you’re tough, kid," one of them said, rolling his shoulders. "But you’ll fall just like your friends."

More sneering. More laughter.

They had taken notice of him.

They had realized that he was harder to take down than they expected.

And now? They wanted to break him.

Augustus exhaled through his nose. Then, he gathered the biggest wad of spit he could and launched it at one of them.

The disgusting splat landed squarely on the pirate’s cheek.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"You little shit!" The pirate wiped his face in rage, his expression twisting into fury.

"Alright, kid—you just asked for it!"

With that, they all lunged at him.

At this moment, Augustus felt something strange.

He was calm.

Four pirates lunged at him, their weapons flashing under the chaotic battlefield’s light.

Yet, for the first time, he wasn’t afraid.

He didn’t understand how he had gone from fearful to indifferent in the span of this half-hour battle. Maybe it was the heat of combat, maybe it was exhaustion—or maybe… something inside him had changed.

His mind was sharper.

His movements, quicker.

As the four pirates attacked, he parried each strike effortlessly.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Their weapons bounced off his defenses, and in the next moment, they staggered back—shock written across their faces.

They hadn’t expected that.

Their expressions hardened. This kid had improved.

And if he was improving, that meant they had to stop playing fair.

Augustus’ eyes narrowed as he saw them pull hidden knives from their belts.

!!!

He tensed, but not in fear—only in caution.

They grinned, taunting him with jeers and fake attacks—only to suddenly throw their knives at him mid-motion.

But Augustus saw through it.

He dodged. Barely.

One blade grazed his arm. Another missed by an inch. He even managed to deflect some with his sword.

The fight dragged on, the four pirates relentlessly attacking from every angle.

Augustus’ breathing became labored. He could feel his stamina draining—the only thing keeping him going was the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

And then—

He landed a hit.

His blade slashed through two of the four, drawing deep wounds.

But he was reaching his limit.

His vision blurred. His limbs felt heavy.

The moment his last opponent fell, Augustus collapsed to the ground.

His body screamed in exhaustion, his eyes barely staying open.

"Kid!"

The voice was faint, distant, yet urgent. One of the Silver Hook crew members.

But Augustus couldn’t respond.

His body refused to move.

And then—

[Congratulations!]

A voice echoed in his mind, clear as day.

[You have completed a hidden task and activated the system!]

[Do you want to accept the system now?]

[Yes / No]

Augustus groaned, eyes fluttering. "Who… the hell is talking?"

And then he saw it—

A floating panel, glowing in his mental space.

His lips parted in disbelief. "A… system?"

[Hello, host. I am the Trickster System!]

[If you accept the system, you will receive a starter ability!]

"Ability?"

His gaze flickered over the text. It was… familiar. Too familiar.

Like the novels he used to read but never finished.

A system, appearing right when he was on the verge of collapse?

Suspicious.

His eyes narrowed. "Trickster System, huh… Sounds like a damn scam."

Yet, at the same time—

He was on the verge of death.

Could it really be tricking him?

He exhaled, made his decision, and tapped ‘Yes.’

[You have received your starter ability!]

[Mythical Ability: The Mask]

[Allows the host to wear The Mask and become temporarily invincible.]

- Proficiency Level: 0
- Time Limit: 2 minutes (Base power is weak at this level. Increase proficiency (0/10) to strengthen ability and extend duration.)

Augustus’ tired eyes widened. "...The Mask?"

He recognized that name instantly.

He might not know One Piece, but he sure as hell knew The Mask.

A nostalgic grin pulled at his lips.

"No way…"

The guy from the movie—the one that defied all logic, all rules, all limitations…

And now he had that power?

"Can I really… do that?" He murmured, staring at the glowing text.

Despite the exhaustion weighing him down, a spark of excitement flickered in his chest.



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 8: The Mask}

- - -

Augustus couldn't contain his excitement. The Mask—one of the most absurd and powerful abilities from his past life’s fiction—was now his.

But… not quite in its full glory.

He scanned the system interface, reading through the limitations of his current abilities.

[The Mask - Current Capabilities]


Slight Shape-Shifting (Minor facial changes, no full transformations)


Slapstick Physics (Can bounce back from basic attacks, but no extreme regeneration)


Basic Hammerspace (Can pull out small comedic props)


Limited Speed Boost (Slightly enhanced movement speed)


It was nowhere near the full insanity of The Mask's potential, but…

Better than nothing.

Then, his eyes flickered to his stats—and the message below them.

["The world is your stage, and chaos is your script."]


Name: Augustus Lancaster


Strength: 5


Intelligence: 5


Agility: 4


Durability: 7


Charisma: 6


Luck: 5


[Start earning Trickster Points! Convert them into Status Points!]
100 TP = 1 SP


["Mission Detected!"]


[Main Mission:]
The system has detected that the host is facing a notorious East Blue pirate captain!


Objective: Embarrass the pirate and beat his ass.


Reward: 300 TP


[Side Mission:]


Use The Mask for the first time!


Do not act normal for the entire duration!


Perform at least one trick, prank, or hilarious action!


Reward:


100 FP


+1 The Mask Proficiency Level


Unlock Passive: Mischief Instinct


Augustus' grin stretched wide as he read the last mission.

A wicked, mischievous glint shone in his eyes.

"Vargo… Hehehe…" His shoulders trembled with barely contained laughter. "You really picked the wrong day to mess with me… I'm about to shit all over your career…"

The battlefield wasn't ready for what was about to happen.

But first—he had to wake up.

With a single thought, Augustus forced himself back into reality.

---

Back to the Battlefield


The moment his eyes snapped open, chaos filled his senses.

The sound of clashing swords. The relentless bang! of gunfire. The cries of pain, anger, and desperation.

"Tch…!" He groaned, his body screaming in agony.

Now that the adrenaline was gone, he felt everything.

The deep cuts. The bruises. The sheer exhaustion weighing on his limbs.

"F-fuck…" He gritted his teeth. Did I really fight through all of this?

He forced himself up, dragging his gaze across the battlefield.

What he saw sent a chill through his spine.

The Vargo Pirates were overpowering the Silver Hook crew and the villagers.

Olf and the others were barely holding on.

And then—he saw Elias.

His captain was still standing, but his body was torn apart with cuts. Some were shallow, but others… deep, bleeding, painful.

"Shit…" Augustus muttered, his fists clenching.

Then, his eyes landed on Matilda.

She was on the ground.

Motionless.

Blood pooled beneath her, staining the dirt red.

Something inside Augustus snapped.


His teeth ground together. His body shook—not from pain, but from rage.

"...No more."

His breath came out sharp. His vision narrowed.

And then—

He activated The Mask.


[Mythical Ability: The Mask - Activated!]


The moment the power surged through him, Augustus felt his body heal instantly.

The deep cuts? Sealed shut.

The aching pain? Gone.

It was as if his body had been reborn in an instant—but that wasn’t even the best part.

A wild, chaotic energy coursed through his veins.

It flowed through his limbs, into his muscles, up to his mind—filling him with absolute clarity.

And then, the changes began.

His face turned green.

His lips stretched into an unnaturally wide grin, revealing a set of perfectly white, gleaming teeth. His eyes, once filled with pain and exhaustion, now shone with mischief and madness.

A deep chuckle bubbled from his throat, growing into something wild.

Then—

He threw his head back and laughed.

"Hahahaha!~"

The sound echoed across the battlefield, a chilling, unnatural laugh that made both the Vargo Pirates and Silver Hook crew pause.

Heads turned. Eyes widened.

"What the hell…?" One of the Vargo pirates whispered.

Even Elias, battered and bleeding, managed to glance toward Augustus, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Vargo himself, who had been moments away from dealing a final blow to one of the villagers, froze in place.

Augustus stretched his arms and rolled his neck, sighing dramatically. "Ahhh~! Now this... this is what I call a second wind!"

His voice had changed.

It was still his, but now it carried an unnatural flair—animated, exaggerated, dripping with chaotic energy.

Everyone stared, their brains struggling to process what they were witnessing. Then, under their incredulous gazes, Augustus casually reached into his pocket.

When his hand reemerged, it was holding...

An inflatable toy mallet.

He rested it on his shoulder as if it were the most natural weapon in the world.

"Now..." His grin widened as he turned his glowing eyes toward Vargo.

"Shall we dance?"

Silence.

The battlefield, once filled with the sounds of clashing swords and battle cries, froze.

Even the Vargo Pirates and Silver Hook crew exchanged uncertain glances. A few scratched their heads in confusion.

Then, a piercing, mocking laughter split through the air.

"Kahahahahahaha!"

It was Vargo.

He clutched his stomach, his body shaking as he pointed at Augustus, his jagged teeth bared in amusement. "Who the hell is this damn fool!?"

He motioned wildly at Augustus. "Look at him! His face is green, he's grinning like an idiot, and he's waving around a damn toy! And he acts like he's somebody?"

His laughter slowed as he shook his head, sneering. "You can't dance here, clown. Go take your circus act somewhere else."

Then, without sparing Augustus another glance, he turned back toward Elias, who was barely standing as villagers tried to support him.

"We’re busy here, especially me," Vargo continued. "I have fools to cut down and a stupid captain to kill for standing in my way."

Elias' eyes were sharp, his grip tightening on his sword. The tension returned, and both sides readied themselves for another clash.

But before the battle could resume, Augustus chuckled.

Then, in a loud, theatrical voice, he called out again.

"Heh, I should've figured Captain Kegbelly wouldn't be able to dance!" He placed a hand on his chin, sighing in fake disappointment. "But don’t be shy, Vargo! There's nothing to be embarrassed about!"

Silence.

Absolute. Silence.

A needle could have dropped, and it would have echoed across the battlefield.

Vargo froze.

His smirk twitched, his amusement halting mid-expression.

And then Augustus drove the dagger deeper.

He gestured to Vargo’s round, bloated gut with an exaggerated gasp. "With that shiny stomach of yours, you must have a storage of cannonballs in there, huh?" His expression turned comically horrified.

"Wait... wait a second—does that mean you can shoot cannonballs with your..." He hesitated, as if afraid to say it.

Then, with perfect comedic timing, he gasped dramatically.

"YOUR ANUS!?"

A wave of muffled snickers spread through the battlefield. Some of the Vargo Pirates visibly gulped, their faces pale as they stole glances at their captain.

‘Not good!’ they all thought at once.

That idiot had offended the captain.

Vargo’s body trembled—not with laughter this time, but with pure, unfiltered rage.

His sharp eyes locked onto Augustus, and the tension in the air thickened.

"You..." Vargo’s voice was low, but it carried a deadly weight.

His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked.

"You bastard… you done it."

For the first time, the entire battlefield was worried for the green-faced lunatic.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 9: Fooling around}

- - -

The entire battlefield’s attention shifted toward Augustus and Vargo.

As if by some unspoken agreement, both pirates and villagers—whether allies or enemies—unconsciously took a step back.

No one wanted to be caught in the storm that was about to unfold.

Meanwhile, Elias, supported by a few villagers, struggled to stay upright. The men holding him up whispered amongst themselves.

"It's our chance to get away..." one muttered.

"Yeah," another agreed. "That bastard Vargo is ruthless. We can't win against him."

A thin villager glanced toward Augustus, still pale from fear. "Good thing that green-face managed to distract him," he said, his voice trembling. "Otherwise, I'd be dead right now..."

Elias listened silently. His sharp eyes locked onto Augustus, studying him carefully.

The clothes. The hair. The green eyes...

And that unmistakable unlit cigarette between his lips.

His expression stiffened.

It was Augustus.

There was no doubt in his mind.

The only difference was his face—it had turned a bright green, as if some thin mask covered his skin. But even that couldn’t disguise the features Elias had come to recognize over the past month.

His head chef...

With a green face.

Elias suddenly stopped walking.

The villagers supporting him blinked in confusion. "Captain, what's wrong? Are your legs too hurt?"

Elias didn't respond.

He just stared.

His body ached, his wounds burned, but none of that mattered right now.

Because half an hour ago, he saw Augustus collapse, bleeding and battered.

And yet—

Now, the kid stood there, completely fine, without a single visible wound. The only evidence of his previous state was the bloodstains on his clothes.

And that weird, unnatural green face.

Elias muttered under his breath, voice laced with disbelief, "This kid... is he a Devil Fruit user?"

There was no other way to explain what he was seeing.

His words were overheard by the villagers.

One of them gasped. "Captain, are you saying the kid is a Devil Fruit user!?"

Nearby pirates and villagers alike turned toward them, eyes widening.

"Devil Fruit!?"

"Isn't that just a legend!?"

"I've only heard stories… but I've never seen one!"

"That can’t be real! Right?"

The village chief suddenly spoke up, his voice firm. "Devil Fruit users are not a legend. They exist. I saw one with my own eyes once."

Silence fell over the crowd.

Then—

A low chuckle broke through the tension.

Vargo.

He cracked his knuckles, his grin stretching wider, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Vargo chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he eyed Augustus with amusement.

"Devil Fruit user?" he sneered. "Heh. I've beaten one before. They're nothing special."

His smirk widened as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

"The only special thing about them?" He scoffed. "They can't swim in the sea forever."

His smirk deepened. "And they die just like anyone else."

Then—

He lunged.

"Let me show you exactly how I deal with them!!!"

The ground shook under the force of his speed. His sword flashed in the sunlight, aiming straight for Augustus’ head.

Augustus’ reaction?

His eyes went wide, mouth dropping open in exaggerated horror.

"SPARE ME, LORD KEGBELLY!" he cried dramatically.

Vargo snorted, unfazed by the ridiculous plea. His blade swung down—

But—

Augustus moved.

Just as the sword was about to hit, his body twisted unnaturally, avoiding the strike by an absurdly narrow margin.

The blade whooshed past him, missing by mere inches.

Vargo’s brows furrowed.

He immediately adjusted, redirecting his attack—another strike, faster this time!

But again—

Augustus evaded.

Barely.

And then again.

And again.

Vargo’s sword slashed through the air repeatedly, yet somehow, somehow, Augustus kept dodging at the last possible second.

All while looking like a terrified idiot.

"Oh—! Ah—! Oh—! Ah—!"

Weird, exaggerated noises escaped Augustus' lips with every dodge, as if he were in an over-the-top comedy skit.

The battlefield fell into dead silence once more.

Every pirate. Every villager. Every single person just watched.

Vargo’s expression twitched.

The Silver Hook crew?

They were speechless.

The Vargo Pirates?

They were confused as hell.

And Elias?

For the first time in his life—

He had absolutely no idea what was happening.

"I've had enough of you." Vargo finally growled, halting his attacks.

Augustus’ terrified expression immediately changed.

His wide, fearful eyes relaxed into something sly. His trembling lips curled into a smirk.

He twirled his cigarette between his fingers with flair, bringing it to his lips and inhaling—as if it were actually lit… and exhaled an imaginary puff of smoke.

His glowing green eyes flicked toward Vargo.

"How is it, Captain Kegbelly?" His tone was mocking. "Are you finally giving up?"

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head in disappointment. "Tch, too bad. I was really enjoying our little dance just now."

Silence.

The crowd, both pirates and villagers alike, felt a collective twitch at the corner of their mouths.

Vargo, still gripping his weapon, was utterly speechless.

The tension in his jaw tightened. His grin twitched.

Then, through gritted teeth, he pulled out a hidden knife and muttered, his voice laced with irritation, "Bastard… you’re going to regret this."

Augustus?

He yawned.

Not a forced yawn—no, a long, lazy, exaggerated yawn, complete with stretching his arms as if he had just woken up from a nap.

His right foot tapped impatiently on the ground.

Then, with an air of complete boredom, he lifted his wrist and checked his watch—except…

There was no watch.

He was just pretending.

"Come on, Kegbelly," he drawled, clicking his tongue. "If you’re going to attack, just do it. No need for all this unnecessary drama."

Vargo’s eye twitched.

The vein on his forehead pulsed.

"You…"

His grip on the knife tightened.

Then, with a furious growl, he snapped.

"YOU ASKED FOR IT!!!"

He threw his hidden knives at Augustus, one after another, like a madman.

Everyone braced themselves—

And Augustus… didn’t move.

He just stood there.

Letting the knives hit him.

Elias’ eyes widened in alarm. "WATCH OUT!"

But Augustus didn’t react.

His head was still lowered, staring at his imaginary watch.

Then, just as the knives landed, he finally looked up—his face twisting into an exaggerated expression of shock.

"!!!"

Gasps rippled through the battlefield.

Elias froze, his heart pounding.

Two knives were buried in Augustus' chest.

His body jerked, his breath hitched, and he clutched his chest dramatically.

"Th-this…!" Augustus gasped, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Vargo’s smirk returned, full of triumph.

He knew those knives would kill—even Devil Fruit users.

They were coated in seastone, sapping whatever strange ability Augustus had.

There was no way he’d survive.

He was so confident in his victory that he didn’t even stop as the wounded green-faced man staggered toward him.

The knives had fallen from Augustus’ chest, yet he still clutched the wound, face contorted in pain.

He stumbled closer… and placed a trembling hand on Vargo’s shoulder.

Vargo allowed it, smiling smugly.

"That’s why you don’t mess with someone stronger," Vargo sneered, already certain Augustus was about to drop dead.

Agustus’ breath came out in shaky gasps, his lips trembling.

His fingers tightened slightly on Vargo’s shoulder.

Then, he whispered, voice hoarse and full of emotion.

"I-I… It was nice knowing you…" He coughed dramatically, "It was fun... Captain Kegbelly—"

Vargo watched, his amusement fading as he noticed something… off.

Augustus' eyes.

They were tearing up.

"..."

Vargo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Just die already, you bastard."

Augustus gasped harder, his body shaking as if he was running out of time.

Elias, watching from a distance, felt a pit form in his stomach.

His fists clenched, his legs trembled, but he still forced himself forward, shoving off the villagers holding him back.

"DON’T DIE, KID!"

Augustus turned his head slowly toward Elias, his teary eyes filled with sorrow.

His lips trembled.

"Captain…"

Then, he turned to everyone watching.

"It was nice knowing all of you!"

His eyes fluttered shut.

And his body collapsed—straight onto Vargo.

The battlefield froze.

No one knew what to feel.

Just moments ago, this green-faced lunatic was joking around, treating the battle like a joke.

And now…

He was dead?

Elias fell to his knees, his face pale.

"No…"

Vargo exhaled sharply, brushing Augustus’ dramatic final words aside. "Hmph. Now the clown is out of the picture—"

He moved to push Augustus’ lifeless body off him.

Except—

Augustus… didn’t budge.

Vargo frowned, shoving harder.

Nothing.

"Tch. What the hell—?"

With a scowl, he tried forcing him off—but Augustus’ body felt unnaturally stiff.

Too cold, too quickly.

Something was wrong.

Vargo’s irritation grew. "Get the hell off me!"

He started punching and kicking Augustus’ body—

But every hit bounced back.


"What—"

Augustus remained plastered to him, like a cursed weight he couldn’t shake off.

The battlefield, which had already been in shock, descended into pure bewilderment.

Elias, who had been about to mourn, blinked.

The Silver Hook crew… stared.

The Vargo Pirates… sweat-dropped.

"What... the hell is happening?" someone whispered.

Vargo, now visibly panicked, desperately tried to peel Augustus off.

He twisted, pulled, pushed, even tried throwing himself backward—but Augustus was stuck to him like glue.

"Get off me, you damn corpse!"

No response.

Only Augustus' limp body, clinging to him like an overly attached ghost.

Vargo's frustration boiled over.

His eye twitched violently as he let out a deep, ragged breath.

Then—

"YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!"

The battlefield erupted into uncontrollable confusion.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++

{Chapter 10: Victory}

- - -


The battlefield, once filled with the sounds of swords clashing and gunfire, had now been reduced to absolute absurdity.

Vargo gritted his teeth, his face red with frustration, as he desperately tried to shake Augustus off his body.

But the more he pushed, the tighter Augustus clung to him.

"What the hell—!" Vargo snarled, his patience snapping.

With no other choice, he drew his sword and stabbed Augustus directly in the chest.

SHNK!

And yet—

The blade bounced off.

It was as if Augustus’ body was both hard and soft at the same time—cold like a corpse but springy like rubber.

Vargo’s eye twitched. "What the fuck is this!?"

He tried again.

And again.

But every single attack bounced back, leaving Augustus completely unscathed.

The watching crowd—pirates and villagers alike—stood in stunned silence, struggling to comprehend the utter stupidity of what they were witnessing.

And then—

A single chuckle slipped out.

One man, trying his hardest to hold back, failed.

And like a dam breaking, someone else let out a louder snort.

Then another.

And another.

Until—

"Hahahahahahaha!!!"

The battlefield erupted into roaring laughter.

Men who had been fighting just moments ago were now holding their stomachs, wheezing. Some even collapsed to their knees, pounding the ground as they laughed.

Even Vargo’s own crew couldn’t hold back.

"You… pfft!—You can't be serious!" one of his own men cackled.

Vargo’s face burned with humiliation.

His jaw clenched so hard it could break. His veins bulged on his forehead.

For the first time in his entire career, he—Vargo, the infamous 7.8 million beli pirate captain—was being made a complete fool.

And by some green-faced lunatic.

His own crew was laughing at him.

"YOU DAMN BASTARDS! SHUT UP!!!" Vargo bellowed, his voice shaking with rage.

His roar was enough to silence most of the laughter—though a few snickers still slipped through.

But that only made it worse.

The sight of Vargo, face red, veins popping, steam practically shooting from his nose, while Augustus remained stuck to him like a koala… it was too much.

"Pfft—"

One of his own crew members lost it again.

And like a chain reaction—

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The entire battlefield exploded into laughter once more.

Vargo trembled with fury.

"YOU'RE ALL DEAD!!!" he roared, swinging wildly at the air, but it only made him look more ridiculous.

The harder he tried to look intimidating, the funnier it became.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to murder every single person laughing at him.

But he couldn't do anything.

Because he still had this damn corpse glued to him.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and used every ounce of his strength—

"GET OFF ME, YOU DAMN CORPSE!!!"

With one final roar, he threw Augustus off his body.

The crowd, expecting another failure, paused.

But this time—Augustus actually flew backward.

He hit the ground with a thud.

Vargo huffed, chest rising and falling as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Hmph." He snorted, straightening himself, finally regaining some of his dignity.

The laughter in the battlefield slowly died down.

Silence returned.

Vargo cracked his knuckles and his neck, then turned to the crowd, his voice low and menacing.

"Now... you all are dead—"

BAM!

Before he could finish his sentence, Augustus shot up from the ground—

And slammed his head directly into Vargo’s chin.

CRACK!

Vargo’s eyes rolled back.

His body stiffened.

Then—

He collapsed face-first onto the ground.

Knocked out cold.

"..."

The battlefield was silent again.

For the third—no, fourth—hell, they had lost count at this point.

The Silver Hook pirates stared.

The Vargo Pirates stared.

The villagers stared.

Augustus, now standing, blinked.

He scratched the back of his head, looking around.

"Hmm? Weird…" he muttered. "I felt like I hit something..."

He glanced down at Vargo, who was completely unconscious.

"Oh well." Augustus shrugged, completely unfazed. "What matters is that I had a good nap!"

The battlefield remained frozen in stunned silence.

Everyone's gaze flickered between Augustus, standing casually, and Vargo, sprawled on the ground—completely unconscious.

No one knew what to say.

If they tried to explain this to anyone, they wouldn't be believed.

A notorious pirate captain, Vargo, with a 7.8 million beli bounty, had just been knocked out cold…

By someone waking up from a nap.

A pirate gulped audibly. "What kind of monster is that green-faced guy…? He took down Captain Vargo, a ruthless pirate, by accident?"

Another villager, still in shock, murmured, "Didn't he just die a moment ago? How is he alive now?"

Elias was just as astonished. He had taken Augustus in as a stranded drifter, never imagining he possessed such an ability.

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "What a strange Devil Fruit…" he muttered.

Meanwhile, Augustus—seeing the eyes locked onto him—grinned.

But inside, he wasn’t celebrating.

He only had seconds left before The Mask wore off.

His attention snapped toward Matilda, still motionless on the ground.

His heart clenched. Even with the lingering effects of The Mask forcing a smile onto his face, his eyes couldn’t hide his sadness.

The others instinctively stepped back, still wary of him, but Elias moved beside him.

Guilt weighed heavily in his voice. "I… failed."

Augustus didn’t respond.

He kneeled beside Matilda, fingers trembling as he checked for a pulse.

Please…

Just a flicker of life… even the faintest heartbeat—

"Augustus—" Elias began, but Augustus raised a hand, signaling for silence.

Elias stopped, confused—

Then froze as he saw the shift in Augustus' expression.

Augustus felt something.

A faint but present pulse.

Matilda was still alive.

He moved instantly.

With seconds left before his transformation ended, Augustus reached into his Hammerspace and pulled out basic medical props—bandages, cloth, and a manual oxygen pump.

He turned Matilda onto her side, immediately working to stop the bleeding and stabilize her breathing.

Puff!

A sudden burst of energy rippled through him.

And then—

Augustus transformed back.

His green skin faded. His grin shrank. The eerie glow in his eyes vanished.

He was just Augustus again.

Gasps of realization spread through the crowd.

"Wait—it's Augustus!?"

The pub owner’s daughter nearly dropped to her knees in shock.

Olf, still trying to process everything, murmured, "He was a Devil Fruit user all along…?"

Unlike the others, Elias wasn’t surprised.

His eyes weren’t on Augustus’ transformation—they were on Matilda.

Augustus wasn’t done yet.

His hands were steady, his focus razor-sharp. He turned to Elias, voice urgent.

"Matilda still has a chance! We need Johnny!"

Elias snapped his head up, scanning the crowd.

There—Johnny, their ship’s doctor.

The man was injured but alive.

"Johnny! Over here!" Elias called out.

Johnny immediately rushed forward, pushing past the stunned crowd. "I’m here!"

Augustus turned to him. "She’s lost a lot of blood. We need a transfusion now. Find someone with a matching blood type!"

Johnny nodded swiftly. "What’s her blood type?"

Elias answered instantly.

Then, before they could even start searching—

A voice spoke up from the crowd.

"She has the same blood type as our captain… Vargo."

Everyone's heads turned.

A Vargo Pirate stood there, looking between them and his unconscious captain.

Augustus and Elias exchanged looks.

They already knew what needed to be done.