After a trip out, Yoriichi Tsugikuni returned with two tiger legs slung over his shoulders. He wasn’t sure exactly how much they weighed, but judging by the sheer size, as long as the meat didn’t spoil, he wouldn’t be worrying about rations for a while.

  To avoid attracting predators with the scent of blood, he didn’t stash the meat near the cave entrance. Instead, he left it at the foot of the mountain—safely distant from his shelter.

  He cut off a small chunk and roasted it for a taste test. That bird earlier had suggested the meat was edible, but better safe than sorry.

  Huh, not bad. No signs of poison at least. As for fvor… well, let’s just say “delicious” wasn’t in the same gaxy. The blood hadn’t been fully cleaned off, the texture was stringy, and the stench was overpowering.

  Still, Yoriichi was satisfied. Meat was meat, and compared to that strange dough paste he’d been subsisting on, this was a feast.

  Once he confirmed it was edible, Yoriichi spent over an hour roasting several pounds of meat to fill his belly. Strangely enough, despite downing pounds of tiger meat, he only felt half full. Whatever this new body of his was, it had one hell of a digestive system.

  Even so, he resisted the urge to keep gorging and instead built a rudimentary smoking hut at the mountain’s base. He carved up dozens of pounds of meat, hoping the smoke would preserve it a little longer.

  After spending half a day prepping food, Yoriichi decided to shift focus. Food was no longer an urgent issue, but another problem loomed rge—water.

  Fortunately, during his second excursion to explore the area, that problem was also resolved.

  Stomach full and katana at his side, Yoriichi set off again. This time, instead of following the familiar forest trail, he studied the terrain carefully and ventured into the densest part of the forest, heading downhill.

  “These trees… they’re massive.”

  “If I don’t mark my way, I’ll get lost in no time.”

  The thick jungle could easily swallow someone whole. To avoid that fate, Yoriichi moved swiftly, sshing at any underbrush with his bde. Anything too close—a flower, a vine, a bush—was mercilessly cut down, leaving a clear trail behind him.

  Life had given him a second chance, and Yoriichi’s spirit was lighter, younger, more daring.

  …

  Gurgle... gurgle...

  Deep within the isnd, after nearly forty minutes of trekking, he finally found it—a stream, winding through the ndscape like a silver serpent.

  Lush green grass carpeted the banks, and further off stood towering trees he’d never seen before, immense and alien.

  Yoriichi knelt at the bank and gnced around. He raised his bde and cleaved through a tree as thick as a man’s embrace. From the trunk, he cut a section, hollowed it out, and fashioned a crude container. Lowering it into the stream, he let the water fill it.

  “…Huh?”

  “Why is the water this color?”

  “And that smell… blood?”

  He lifted the makeshift bucket. Against the pale wood, the streamwater appeared faintly red. Armed, Yoriichi looked upstream—and his eyes widened.

  The entire stream had turned crimson. As the water flowed, the faint red deepened into a thick, dark scarlet.

  The pungent stench of blood rushed up his nostrils.

  “What the hell…?”

  “What happened here?!”

  His brow furrowed. The water source was tainted. Eyes narrowing, Yoriichi tossed the bucket aside and gripped his sword tighter. He turned and began heading upstream, determined to find the source of the contamination.

  Clean water was essential. If the pollution could be traced and removed, the stream might flush itself clean in under an hour.

  He followed the river, pushing deeper innd.

  Time blurred as he walked. Eventually, the forest gave way to open ground. He crested a slope, and the scene that unfolded before him stole his breath.

  A battlefield.

  Corpses y scattered like discarded puppets, hundreds of them strewn across the clearing. Blood pooled in thick streams, spilling into the river like sacrificial offerings.

  The air was heavy with death.

  Not far from the blood-soaked pin stood the shattered remains of a small town. Several spots still smoldered with thick bck smoke.

  Yoriichi gazed toward the ruins. Not a single living soul stirred. Yet something about the clothing on some of the bodies caught his eye.

  White coats stained crimson—embzoned with bold bck kanji.

  “Justice.”

  “The Marines?!”

  On only his second day in this world, Yoriichi was already face-to-face with its brutality.

  Judging by the uniforms and the direction the bodies had fallen, it seemed the fallen were split into two factions. On one side were Marines and civilians wielding pitchforks, hoes, wooden sticks—whatever they could find. They had fought together.

  On the other side: pirates, heavily armed and heavily muscled.

  As Yoriichi stepped into the battlefield and surveyed the carnage, one fact became clear: there were far fewer pirate bodies.

  Another detail unsettled him—the civilian dead were all adults. No women. No children.

  “Did the pirates win?”

  “Were the women and kids taken?”

  “Or did they hide…?”

  He crossed the battlefield, thoughts swirling, and made his way toward the ruined town.

  Once-pristine buildings had crumbled into rubble. The once-wide main street was now blocked by broken carts, loaded with rocks—makeshift barricades hastily constructed in vain.

  He climbed over the debris.

  The white stone streets were streaked with fresh blood. Standing in the town center, Yoriichi’s heart grew heavy. He hadn’t seen the fight himself, but the devastation told him everything.

  Not a single spot remained untouched.

  He entered one of the houses. Inside was chaos—a ransacked living room, overturned furniture. He gently pushed open a bedroom door.

  The stench hit him instantly.

  A woman y dead on the bed. Yoriichi’s brows drew tight. With a quiet sigh, he pulled a bnket over her still form, then turned and left.

  “…Such cruelty.”

  He searched the ruins in silence, passing through the remnants of the town. His grip tightened on his sword.

  There were no demons here.

  But human savagery… it was no less terrifying.

  At the edge of the town, a cliff overlooked the sea. The vast ocean stretched endlessly before him.

  The sea breeze washed away the stench of death.

  Yoriichi slowly drew his bde, studying its dark, matte finish. In the reflection of its bckened steel, his face appeared faint and blurred. His gaze fell to the single character etched at the base of the bde—“Destruction.”

  And in that moment, he understood.

  “…I think I know what I must do now.”

  “You and I… we’ll bring a sliver of dawn to this world.”

  “Bck Bde—Dawnbringer!”

  As the words left his lips, the ground around Yoriichi trembled. Dust rose without wind. An overwhelming, suffocating aura burst from his body, rippling outward like a shockwave.

  Far off in the distance, the forest rustled in arm. Waves that had once pped gently at the shore recoiled, driven back by an unseen force.

  Thousands of meters away, a dog-headed Marine warship was speeding toward Dragon Roar Isnd.

  At the bow stood a middle-aged man in a bck suit, arms folded. A thick mustache bristled above a stern face. The word “Justice” fluttered behind him on the back of his Marine cloak.

  Vmmm—

  Suddenly, a crushing force echoed across the sea. The currents themselves reversed course.

  Feeling the disturbance, the man’s eyes narrowed—then he grinned.

  “Conqueror’s Haki…”

  “Incredible. Another monster… in the East Blue, no less.”

  “So the E-23 unit went dark because of him?”

  “Heh… how fun. You dared raise your hand against the Marines. I won’t let you off easy.”

  As he muttered, a Marine officer ran up behind him and saluted crisply.

  “Vice Admiral Garp, sir! Unidentified currents have appeared. If we stay on course, we may encounter complications. Should we change direction?”

  Garp tilted his head, then ughed.

  “No need. Stay the course. The sea will calm soon enough.”