At The Peak of One Piece

After entering the Grand Line, the warship sailed endlessly across the open sea, guided by Log Poses. They only docked to resupply—sometimes at Marine bases, sometimes relying on crew hunts or local purchases. 

Whenever ashore, Victor explored. He absorbed local cultures, hunted for rare metals, savored regional cuisines. If pirates landed on the same island, he'd raid their treasures for coin—funding his quest for materials. 

But most days? Monotonous ocean. Victor had long grown weary of its vastness. 

Boredom forged discipline. Rain or shine, blizzard or squall, Victor remained welded to the deck—training. 

He meditated on nature, sensed the breath of all things, tempered his body like steel. Garp and Tsuru observed without comment, ordering crewmen not to disturb him. 

Others gaped. Such endurance defied belief. The Grand Line's violent weather would hospitalize most within days. Yet Victor sat unfazed, robes undisturbed—a statue in the storm. 

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"How long's he held that pose?" a voice whispered. 

"Nearly twenty days. Only moves to eat. What kind of monster—" 

"He does move! I saw it!" A third voice, gruff but shaky, cut in. "Woke up to piss one night…" 

"Spit it out! Quit stalling like a damn—" 

"I am a damn woman! Need your eyes gouged out?" 

The crew stared. Built like a battering ram, skin like cured leather, square jaw, gravel voice—no feminine trace. Truth defied sight. 

"Man or woman, what did you see?" 

"I'll deal with you later!... Victor… he hauled a headless Sea King from the depths…" She shuddered, recalling the horror. "Ate it raw. Sliced it open like a beast." 

Victor hunted Sea Kings for their primal energy—fueling his Observation Haki and physique. Diving deep also masked his lack of Devil Fruit weaknesses from Garp and Tsuru. 

When no Sea Kings lurked, he butchered massive fish. Raw flesh was practical—no cooking colossal carcasses at sea. His stomach, forged into a bottomless pit, devoured everything save portions for Rebecca and Garp, converting it into pure strength. 

"Victor's that strong? Island game's one thing, but Sea Kings?" a skeptic muttered. 

"Tch. You'll never grasp true power," the woman scoffed. "He kills weak prey 'cause nothing stronger exists. You kill 'em at your limit—wounded and panting. He strolls through a hunt like it's his damn chicken coop. Compare? Don't insult him." 

────── 

Weeks bled into months. Then— 

Bubbles. 

Countless, iridescent spheres rose from the ocean floor, shimmering like liquid rainbows. They gathered, swelled, and burst against the Red Line's roots, birthing new ones in an eternal cycle. 

Sabaody Archipelago. 

The warship glided into the bubble-coated bay. Marineford awaited. 

"Honestly, you all should stop overanalyzing this. I heard from an old-timer on the warship that Vice Admiral Garp fought with Victor for nearly half a day. You think that's some ordinary monster? Nah, that's a full-on beast," someone revealed. 

"Tch, I thought you were gonna call him a freak or something, you bastard!" another grumbled in annoyance. 

Victor sensed all of this with his Observation Haki, but it didn't faze him. Fighting Garp for a few hours was only because the old man wanted to test his strength—otherwise, it would've ended in one punch. The "One Punch Man" title wasn't just for show. 

Right now, Victor was steadily building his strength, waiting for the right moment to unleash it. He didn't know the exact secret to awakening Armament Haki, but he was certain that physical prowess was the most fundamental requirement. 

He had once asked Garp how to awaken Armament Haki. The old man just scratched his head, grinning foolishly, and said, "Dunno! I accidentally awakened mine while beating up Roger. Hurts like hell when ya hit someone with it, so I like using it." 

Victor was convinced Garp was just flexing. 'Why not just say you made the King of the Pirates, Gol D. Roger, cry while you're at it?' 

He knew that for people like Garp, expecting them to study theory before awakening Haki was like taking off your pants to fart—completely unnecessary. They didn't need any of that. When the time came, they'd just punch their way into it. 

Victor figured he was probably the same type. The only problem was, he hadn't been in enough real fights. No one had come along to smash open the door to Armament Haki for him. 'When will that damn door finally break?' It was frustrating. 

If others knew what Victor was complaining about, they'd probably drown him in spit. 'The well-fed can't understand the starving—what a jerk.' 

Garp couldn't really guide him either. The old man wasn't good at teaching theory—his method was hands-on combat. But the ship couldn't handle the two of them going at it, so Garp had to settle for occasionally practicing by tossing cannonballs. He was bored out of his mind, itching to run into some pirates for fun. 

Meanwhile, Rebecca was being trained by Granny Tsuru, who was far more meticulous. Victor had only been able to teach her the basics of swordsmanship and physical conditioning—most of what he knew was just surface-level. 

Granny Tsuru's lessons were much more thorough. Rebecca wasn't the type to endure harsh training under the sun, and Victor didn't want her to either, so she spent most of her time inside the ship, only coming to the deck to practice her swordsmanship. 

---

Finally, after a month, the warship arrived in the waters of Sabaody. In the distance, the massive Yarukiman Mangrove Trees loomed, their soap bubbles reflecting dazzling colors—a truly dreamlike sight. 

The ship would dock here for a day, and the crew was free to explore. The officer in charge warned them not to venture too deep into the island before dismissing everyone. 

They anchored at Grove 51-60, also known as Area 60, where a Marine base and World Government offices were located—one of the safer regions of Sabaody Archipelago. 

This was the gathering point for all islands in the first half of the Grand Line—Sabaody, the gateway to the New World. Anyone wanting to go there had to pass through here. 

Those with connections or resources could take the route over the Red Line—tedious but safe. Pirates, on the other hand, usually took the undersea path through Fish-Man Island, a far more dangerous journey where most ships vanished into history. 

The island was a chaotic melting pot of factions—Marines, World Government officials, pirates, slavers, underground syndicates, merchants, bounty hunters… you name it. It was easily the most tangled web of power struggles in the entire world, bar none. 

Even the Marines couldn't fully control it. And every now and then, Celestial Dragons would show up to throw their weight around. 

Victor didn't have the best impression of the place, but he still wanted to check if there were any rare metals here. The chances were higher than elsewhere, and even if he came up empty, gathering intel on materials would still be useful.