At The Peak of One Piece

Half a day later, Victor arrived at the deserted island where he'd left his boat. His Geppo had improved significantly – greater duration and speed. He'd crossed the Calm Belt without stopping to rest, going straight through. The massive pack on his back slowed him slightly, but he still made it in half a day.

Nearly two months had passed. The small boat was still there, though its hull was encrusted with marine life and its deck covered in bird droppings. Victor dragged the boat to the shore amidst the grumbling sounds of disturbed creatures. By the time he returned after a brief rest, the boat had been scrubbed clean.

After eating on the island to restore his strength, Victor pulled out his map. He checked the direction to Lyep Island against his compass, confirmed the heading, tucked the compass into his jacket, and waited for the cabin to dry in the sun. He then pulled the boat to the water's edge, loaded his large pack aboard, and resumed his signature boat-towing swim. His swimming speed now rivaled a speedboat.

Victor returned to his physical training regimen. On the Calm Belt island, he hadn't dared dive; Sea Kings lurked everywhere, halting his underwater conditioning. Now, he picked it back up. Nearly two months of intense training on the island, fueled by high life-essence meat, had made his body significantly stronger.

Days were spent swimming, nights diving. The routine was monotonous but never dull. He encountered merchant ships, pleasure yachts, and pirate vessels along the way. Arrogant pirates met a watery grave. Crews of merchant and pleasure ships stared in disbelief at the man choosing to tow a boat instead of riding in one, and moving so fast. 

"Weirdo"

They couldn't fathom his reasoning. Victor didn't bother explaining. His strength was his; their vulnerability was theirs.

One week later. Offshore, Lyep Island.

A cargo ship was unloading. A dockworker paused mid-lift, his cigarette tumbling onto the deck with a soft 'thud'.

"Hey, Osbert! Move it after you drop that, don't block the way, you oaf!" A middle-aged man in a white sleeveless tunic and head wrap slapped Osbert's shoulder.

"Am...Amos," Osbert stammered, wiping his face and grabbing Amos's arm, pointing out to sea. "Look! Is that a man... pulling a boat? Running on the water?"

"Sun got to ya, eh?" Amos laughed, pushing Osbert aside. "No one can run on the... HOLY SHIT! There really is a guy running on the water!" Amos gaped.

"He's coming fast! He'll be here any second..." Others heard the commotion and crowded the railing, causing the ship to list slightly.

"Is that even human?"

Victor felt mildly offended.

"It's a ghost pulling the boat! A ghost ship! Terrifying!"

Somewhere, a certain Yellow Monkey felt mildly offended.

"It's just a man... must have some gadget on his feet."

The chatter buzzed as the spectacle neared. Soon, the figure was close enough to see clearly: a tall man wearing a leather cap. The chatter died down. No one wanted to risk offending someone who ran on water.

It was Victor. Once in coastal waters, he'd swapped swimming for running. It looked far more impressive.

''Running on water? Bullshit'', someone might scoff. Victor would retort, *'I run on fucking air. Water? Water's nothing. Less than nothing.'*

He wore the cap to avoid getting sunburned. Otherwise, these dockworkers would surely recognize him: Victor, the Hero of Lyep Island.

Victor ran onto the pier. He lifted one leg straight back behind him. The boat, carried by its momentum, slammed into the sole of his boot. His foot didn't budge. The boat stopped dead.

The men on the cargo ship stared, jaws slack. Words failed them. 'Where did this powerhouse come from? What do we do? Should we call the Hero of Lyep Island... Victor?'

Victor stood on the dock, surveying the familiar scene. "Looks just like when I left. No changes. Rebecca must be guarding this place well. I'll reward her when I get back... hmm... a piece of meat should do it. Heh!" he murmured to himself.

Seeing that nothing much had changed, Victor pulled down the leather cap on his head and walked over to the dock post. Squatting down, he tied the boat's rope securely around it. 

The people on the cargo ship immediately recognized him—after all, he'd only been gone for four or five months, and he hadn't changed much. 

"It's Victor! He's back, haha!" 

"Yeah, our hero Victor has returned!" said one admirer. 

"All I can say is—Victor, the GOAT." Another clasped his hands together, tilting his head slightly with a look of pure reverence. 

"Victor's gotten even stronger. Absolute monster," someone muttered, exhaling a puff of smoke. 

"Quit yapping and let's go say hi!" 

A crowd quickly gathered around Victor, greeting him warmly. He returned their enthusiasm with nods and smiles. 

"Victor, you staying for good this time?" 

"Just a few days. Training's not done yet—I kinda snuck out, haha." 

After some small talk, Victor turned to an elderly but spry man in his seventies standing at the edge of the group and waved. 

"Old Man Bob, mind keeping an eye on my boat for a few days?" 

"Don't you worry. Not a single nail'll go missing," Old Man Bob replied with a grin. 

Ba was the dock's caretaker, appointed by the town. A retired Marine, he'd enlisted a few years ahead of even Garp. Though his hair had grayed, his body was still tough—faster than most youngsters and a match for any brawler. 

These days, though, he lived alone, with no family left. Back when Victor lived in town, he'd occasionally bring the old man some game meat to go with his drinks. Victor respected Ba, a man who'd given his life to the Marines, and Bob, in turn, admired Victor's character and skill. 

"Great. Come by tonight for drinks—I've got good food," Victor offered. 

"Deal. I'll get someone to cover for me. You head on home first—Maria and Rebecca have been missing you. Nonstop chatter about you!" Old Man Bob's wrinkled face crinkled further with laughter. 

"Got it. See you tonight, Ba. Catch you all later!" Victor shouldered his massive leather pack and set off toward home, waving as he went. 

"Take care!" 

"Stay a while longer!" 

The crowd waved back before returning to their work, though their chatter still revolved around Victor. 

Old Man Bob watched him go, stroking his chin. "He's changed. His aura's different. That sharp glint in his eyes—like a blade. Bet he's a full-fledged swordsman now. Not even fifteen… tch." Decades in the Marines had given him a keen eye. 

As Victor walked through town, people kept calling out greetings. His sudden return, especially with that huge pack, raised eyebrows—but no one pried. To them, he was the island's hero, and the town, still peaceful and unchanged, reflected that respect. 

Seeing it all, Victor felt a quiet satisfaction. Their efforts—his and Rebecca's—had been worth it. In this cruel world, where the World Government squeezed people dry and pirates robbed them blind, fate was a rope held by the strong. But at least here, on this little island, there was stability. 

As long as he kept growing stronger, he could keep fighting for what mattered. 

When Victor finally reached home, he found it exactly as he'd left it—spotless, everything in place. Someone had been cleaning regularly. A small smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his pack. 

Time to check on the old lady next door. 

As for Rebecca? No worries there. That little glutton was probably too busy eating and sleeping to even notice he'd been gone.