At The Peak of One Piece

Two hours later, Victor felt the ship sway. He knew that Buck had finished his business and they were setting sail.

Victor stepped out of his room and onto the deck. Normally, he didn't like staying inside—different places had different weather, and Victor saw that as a way to understand the world and nature, which helped his swordsmanship.

In his past life, all those sword and blade techniques in novels were useless no matter how much he practiced. But in this world, it was different. For example, Vista's rapier strikes could produce roses, Luffy's punches could ignite fire, Sanji's kicks could also ignite fire, and Zoro's Ashura sword style was real. Victor believed all these were physical manifestations of "intent" or "will." Of course, there were other kinds of "intent" he still needed to study and understand.

"Victor, we owe you again this time. Otherwise, who knows how bad it would have been," Buck said with relief as he walked up to Victor.

"It's no big deal. I'm on your ship, after all. Without a ship, I can't go to sea. I need to help protect the ship and crew," Victor smiled.

"You really went all out—wiping out an entire pirate crew by yourself. You're incredibly strong. I can't even describe it," Buck said in awe.

"This sea is mysterious. There are islands scattered across it that are stronger than me. You can only move forward and grow stronger if you keep looking ahead. If you only look back, you'll stall—just like that man who loves playing with sand," Victor said.

"The man who loves playing with sand?" Buck asked, puzzled.

"You don't need to know him. He's somewhere in the Grand Line," Victor replied casually.

Victor then sat cross-legged on the deck, closing his eyes again. Buck watched him and winced a little—what a training maniac.

The ship had left the waters near Loguetown and sailed deeper into the East Blue.

Suddenly, the lookout shouted.

"Something's coming!"

Everyone focused their attention. Though Victor's eyes were closed, he was listening closely.

"There's a ship flying a pirate flag approaching from the three o'clock direction. They seem hostile," the lookout warned.

Victor opened his eyes and muttered, "No wonder Loguetown is full of pirates. They hang around here to ambush ships leaving the town."

Victor sighed—time for some long-range attacks again.

He went to the side of the ship and glanced at the approaching pirate ship. Then he turned to Buck, who looked worried.

"Captain Buck, have your crew bring the cannonballs up. I'll test their strength with some long-range fire first."

Victor could now throw cannonballs farther than cannons could shoot. He joked that he wanted to learn from old man Garp, so he trained hard and had the talent to make each shot fast, accurate, and deadly.

Buck immediately ordered his crew to move the cannonballs. Victor wasn't worried yet; the enemy ship was still out of his range.

The pirate ship, aided by wind and rowing, was moving faster than theirs. Without counterattack, they'd be caught for sure.

With the cannonballs in place, Victor cracked his knuckles. His arms raised, and his cloak slid off to the deck.

The pirate ship was now within range but still looked like a tiny model from Buck's perspective.

Victor picked up a cannonball, weighed it in his hand, stood with one foot forward and one back, then pulled his arm back. With one eye on the enemy, he launched the first shot.

The cannonball flew out with a strong gust, exploding with a "boom" sound far away.

The pirate ship didn't hear the noise but saw a flash of fire. Their main mast instantly collapsed—Victor's fastest way to cripple a sailing ship.

The pirates froze in shock. What kind of cannon shoots that far and that accurately? This must be some new artillery, and they weren't included!

The pirate captain was full of resentment—the plan he designed to expand their crew was ruined before it even started.

"Rearrange! Row hard! Take that ship!" he shouted hoarsely.

But after just ten meters, two more cannonballs flew over. One hit the deck, blasting a big hole.

A direct hit shattered the pirate ship's keel at the bow. 

Victor had initially aimed for the mast, thinking it would force the pirates to retreat—a warning to abandon their life of crime. But they stubbornly pressed on, firing two more cannonballs in defiance. 

'Fine. Your funeral.' 

Three cannon volleys later, Victor retrieved his cloak, draped it over his shoulders, and calmly returned to his seat. 

The crew now regarded him with awe bordering on reverence—their ship's guardian deity. 'Better keep this one well-fed and happy.' 

'Amateurs.' To them, this was miraculous. But compared to the monstrous old man who'd once sent the Pirate King himself fleeing, Victor's feats were mere drizzles. 

Once past Loguetown's waters, the sea grew quieter. Fewer ships, even fewer pirates. 

Victor resumed his training routine. Port stops were uneventful—unloading, loading, resupplying. 

He hadn't demanded Buck head straight to Shimotsuki Village. The ship's route would naturally pass it; otherwise, Victor wouldn't have boarded. 

---

Two weeks later, they arrived. The cargo this time? Mostly grain. 

When Victor asked, Buck admitted he didn't know the recipient's name—just that men from a place called "Isshin Dojo" always handled the unloading. 

'Confirmed.' This was Koushirou's order—supplies for the Revolutionary Army. 

After bidding Buck farewell ("'See you if fate allows'"), Victor followed the crewman tasked with notifying the dojo. 

Instead of entering immediately, Victor lingered outside. The dojo would be busy with the delivery, and strangers would raise eyebrows. 

Once he confirmed its location, he veered into the forest. 

'Time to hunt.' 

Ship rations were decent but never enough. Holding back his appetite meant avoiding starving the crew. Here? No such restraints. 

This forest's beasts were in for a massacre. 

---

Victor trekked deeper, dismissing small game—too meager for his needs. 

Thirty minutes in, he paused. 

Black smoke coiled above the trees to his right. The distant clang of metal echoed, interspersed with flickering flames. 

'Later.' 

His stomach took priority. 

Another half-hour passed before he found his target: 

A three-meter-tall boar king, its tusks as long as forearms, gleefully grinding against a thick tree. Bark rained down as the trunk groaned. 

The boar's euphoria turned to rage when—'CRACK'—the tree snapped. 

'Again?!' 

It roared, then locked onto Victor. 

Dinner. 

The beast charged. Victor didn't budge—just rested a hand on Yubashiri's hilt. 

At the last second, he leaped, drew, and flipped over the boar. 

'SLICE.' 

The boar ran another ten meters before collapsing, a single finger-width wound between its eyes leaking crimson and pale fluid. 

Not a scratch elsewhere. 

Victor sheathed his blade. 

'Finally. A proper meal.'