Vash

Spin to Win - Starting in One Piece [Draft]

Added 2025-07-09 07:53:28 +0000 UTC

Chapter 1: New Marine, Old World

I stared at the blue cap in my hands. The seagull emblem looked back at me like it was judging my life choices.

"Well, shit."

The memories hit me all at once when I woke up this morning. Two sets of them, actually. My old life - whoever I used to be - felt like a dream now. But Vincent? His memories were crystal clear, and they hurt like hell.

I was born in a small fishing village on Coral Bay Island in the East Blue. Mom used to sing while she cooked. Dad taught me how to tie knots and read the weather. Simple life. Good life.

Until pirates showed up and ruined everything.

That was 7 years ago.

Vincent was ten when they burned everything down. Killed everyone who tried to fight back. His parents... they tried to protect him. Didn't work out so well for them.

It was also the reason why Vincent wanted to be a marine.

‘To make sure what happened to my family doesn't happen to anyone else.’

The original Vincent really believed that. Still do, I guess. The marines weren't perfect, but they were better than letting pirates run wild. At least, that's what I told myself.

But now I had memories of a different world. A world where I knew the marines could be just as corrupt as the pirates they hunted. Where admirals could burn entire islands and call it justice.

Still, the marines were necessary. Without them, pirates would run completely wild. The real problem wasn't the marines themselves - it was the World Government pulling their strings. The Celestial Dragons and their twisted idea of justice. That's where the rot started.

"Recruit Vincent!"

I snapped to attention. Captain Morrison stood in the doorway of the barracks, his mustache twitching with barely contained irritation.

"Yes, sir!"

"Your first assignment came through. You're being stationed at Shell Town."

Shell Town. I knew that name. Axe-Hand Morgan's future stomping grounds. But right now? Just another quiet base in the East Blue. Maybe I could keep it that way.

"When do I ship out, sir?"

"Tomorrow, 0600 hours. Don't embarrass the marines, boy. Your scores were decent, but decent doesn't cut it out there."

"Understood, sir!"

Morrison left, and I slumped back onto my bunk.

The other recruits were already asleep, but my mind was racing. I had knowledge of the future - sort of. But everything was different. Earlier. The timeline was all screwed up.

The original Vincent was a decent fighter. Not amazing, but he could hold his own. Problem was, decent wouldn't cut it in this world. Not with monsters like Whitebeard and Kaido already making names for themselves.

Then in the corner of my vision, something flickered. Like a video game interface.

A translucent blue screen appeared, floating just at the edge of my sight. Only I could see it - I was sure of that. The word "Gacha" glowed softly at the top.

What the hell?

The interface suddenly brightened with a soft blue glow. Text appeared across the translucent screen:

Welcome, User! Daily Gacha Spin Available! First-Time Bonus: Improved Luck Active! Spin now? Y/N

Is this real?

I focused on the 'Y' option, and the screen came alive. Colors flashed across my vision.

Another notification popped up right after:

FIRST-TIME USER BONUS APPLIED! Legendary drop rate significantly increased for inaugural pull! This bonus has been consumed and will not apply to future spins.

Congratulations!
You have received: Character Card - Gildarts Clive
Rarity: Legendary

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR FIRST CHARACTER CARD!

Character Cards can be utilized in two ways:

1. SUMMONING MODE Summon the character as a separate entity. Summoned characters maintain their original personality and abilities, but are bound to serve the summoner. Relationship dynamic similar to Master-Servant contracts (Nasuverse).

2. SYNCHRONIZATION MODE Incorporate the character's abilities and traits directly into yourself. Initial synchronization rate: 10%. Rate increases through time, training, and combat experience.

WARNING: Choice is permanent once selected. Choose wisely!

'Holy shit. This is insane.'

The notification glowed brighter as I focused on it:

Gildarts Clive. The Ace of Fairy Tail. The man who could accidentally destroy entire towns and mountains by accident.

'Are you kidding me? GILDARTS?'

I had to bite my lip to keep from whooping out loud. The other recruits were still sleeping, and explaining why I was celebrating at midnight would be... troublesome.

This was incredible. I landed at one of the absolute powerhouses. The guy was able to survive meeting with Acnologia and live to tell about it.

'First-time bonus or not, this is still insane luck.'

Ten percent of Gildarts Clive was still probably stronger than ninety percent of the marines in this base. Hell, ten percent might be enough to give some vice admirals a run for their money.

'This changes everything.'

I thought about it for maybe three seconds before making my choice. Summoning him would raise too many questions. A mysterious man with incredible power just appearing out of nowhere?

Nah..

Besides, personal strength is more important.

I focused on 'Synchronization Mode' and the screen flashed bright blue before dissolving into particles of light that sank into my chest.

The change was immediate.

My muscles didn't bulk up or anything dramatic like that, but I could feel something fundamental shift inside me. Like a door had been cracked open in my soul, and raw power was seeping through the gap. The sensation was warm, almost electric, crawling along my nerves and settling into my bones.

I flexed my fingers experimentally. The wooden bed frame creaked under my grip without me even trying. The sound was sharp in the quiet barracks, and I quickly let go, glancing around to make sure nobody stirred.

'Ten percent of Gildarts and I can already crush wood like paper. What happens when I hit fifty percent? Ninety?'

The thought sent a thrill through me. Gildarts could level mountains by accident. Even a fraction of that power was more than most people in this world would ever dream of possessing.

The gacha interface flickered back to life, showing my new status:

Current Synchronization: Gildarts Clive - 10%
Next Gacha Spin Available: 23 hours, 47 minutes

A faint current of energy flowing through my body, like a second heartbeat. Magic power circulation. That was interesting. I could feel it now that I was looking for it. It wasn't much, but it was there. Growing stronger with each pulse.

Unfortunately I haven’t unlocked Crash Magic yet, of course not.

Then the interface faded back to the corner of my vision, becoming a subtle overlay that I could call up with a thought.

I lay back down, but sleep wasn't happening. Too much adrenaline. Too many possibilities racing through my head. My enhanced hearing picked up every small sound in the barracks. Johnson's snoring three bunks over. The creaking of the building settling. Footsteps in the hallway as the night watch made their rounds.

The original Vincent wanted to protect people. That hadn't changed. But now I had the potential to actually do something about it. In a world full of monsters, I was developing the tools to fight back.

Chapter 2: Cigarettes and Sea

The marine uniform felt different this morning. Heavier. More real.

I adjusted the collar and checked myself in the small mirror above my bunk. Dark blue eyes stared back at me, framed by long black hair that I'd tied back regulation-style. The white and blue looked official enough, but the face staring back at me still felt foreign. Vincent had my memories now, but sometimes I caught glimpses of the old me underneath. Or is it the other way?

'Stop overthinking it. You're both him now.'

The other recruits were already filing out for morning formation. I grabbed my duffel bag and followed, boots clicking against the wooden floor of Loguetown Base. The same base where Roger was executed.

Where Luffy would eventually make his dramatic entrance into the Grand Line.But that was still years away.

Right now, it was just another marine installation with too much history and not enough coffee.

"Formation!" Sergeant Mills barked. "Transport to Shell Town leaves in thirty minutes!"

I fell into line with the other fresh marines. Most of them looked nervous. Green. Ready to piss themselves at the first sign of real pirates.

'Can't blame them. A month ago, I would have been the same.'

Now? I could feel that steady current of power flowing through me. Ten percent of Gildarts Clive was like having a engine running at idle in my chest. Quiet, but ready to roar to life if needed.

The transport ship was nothing special. Standard marine vessel, maybe a hundred feet long, with enough room for supplies and a dozen marines. Captain Torres briefed us during the short voyage to Shell Town.

"Shell Town's been quiet lately," he said, reviewing a folder of reports. "No major pirate activity. Your job is to keep it that way. Patrol the docks, help with customs inspections, and try not to embarrass the uniform."

I nodded along with the others.

The voyage took about three hours. Long enough for the seasickness to hit the newer recruits, but not long enough to get comfortable. I spent most of it on deck, watching the horizon and trying to train.

Just the basics , circulating and meditating to increase my ethernano and refine my control, using Gildarts’ memories as a guide

Shell Town came into view around midday. Small port town, fishing boats bobbing in the harbor, a marine base sitting on the hill.

We docked without incident. Captain Torres assigned quarters in the base barracks, handed out patrol schedules, and reminded us about proper marine conduct. Standard stuff.

I got lucky with room assignments. Single occupancy, end of the hallway. Privacy was going to be important for what I had planned in the future.

The room was basic. Bed, desk, small window overlooking the harbor. I unpacked my gear and waited for the evening shift change. Finally, some time alone.

The gacha interface flickered to life in the corner of my vision.

Daily Gacha Spin Available! Spin now? Y/N

'Here goes nothing.'

I focused on 'Y' and watched the colors swirl across the translucent screen. The familiar rush of anticipation hit me as the display spun through possibilities.

Congratulations!
You have received: 6 Packs - Luxury Cigarettes (Davidoff Classic)
Rarity: Common
Description: Premium tobacco products from another world. Each pack contains 20 cigarettes of exceptional quality.

The packs materialized on my desk with a soft pop of displaced air. Six pristine boxes of cigarettes, the kind I remembered from my old life. Expensive ones too.

'Well, that's... practical.'

I picked up one of the packs, feeling the weight of it. Real tobacco. Real paper. The cellophane crinkled under my fingers exactly like I remembered.

'Not exactly Crash Magic, but I'll take it.'

The old me had been a smoker. Pack a day habit that I'd never quite managed to kick. Vincent had never touched tobacco in his life, but the muscle memory was still there. The need was still there.

I tore open the first pack and pulled out a cigarette. The smell hit me immediately, rich and familiar. Like coming home after a long trip.

'Probably shouldn't smoke in the barracks.'

Instead, I tucked the pack into my jacket pocket and stored the rest in my desk drawer. The gacha system had strange priorities, but at least it was consistent with keeping me supplied with small comforts.

The interface updated in the corner of my vision:

Current Synchronization: Gildarts Clive - 11%
Next Gacha Spin Available: 23 hours, 52 minutes

Huh? It increased?

Before I could explore further there was a knock at my door that interrupted my thoughts. I quickly closed the desk drawer and called out, "Come in!"

Marine Private Jackson poked his head in. Young kid, maybe the same age as me, with the kind of eager expression that screamed 'fresh recruit.'

"Vincent? Sergeant wants to see all the new transfers in his office. Something about patrol assignments."

"Be right there."

Jackson nodded and disappeared down the hallway. I checked my appearance in the small mirror, made sure nothing looked out of place, and headed out.

The cigarettes stayed hidden in my pocket, a small weight that reminded me of home. Of who I used to be before this…

'One day at a time. Build up power. Figure out this world. Try not to get killed by pirates.'

Simple plan. What could go wrong?

=====

Sergeant Mills looked like he'd been chewing nails for breakfast. Thick mustache, scarred hands, and the kind of thousand-yard stare that came from too many years dealing with pirates and bureaucrats in equal measure.

"Alright, listen up, fresh meat," he growled, spreading a map of Shell Town across his desk. "This isn't Loguetown. We don't have a hundred marines to throw at every problem. You screw up here, people notice."

Five of us new transfers stood at attention. Jackson fidgeted next to me. The others looked like they were trying not to wet themselves.

"Vincent." Mills jabbed a finger at me. "You're with Corporal Hayes. Dock patrol, 0800 to 1600. Keep the smugglers honest and the fishermen sober."

"Yes, sir."

"Hayes has been here three years. Listen to him. Learn from him. Don't get him killed with rookie mistakes."

A man stepped forward from the corner of the room. Mid-thirties, weathered face, missing two fingers on his left hand. He looked me up and down with the expression of someone evaluating a tool he didn't particularly trust.

"Hayes," he said, extending his good hand. "You look green."

"Vincent. And probably."

That got a snort of amusement. "At least you're honest. Come on, rookie. Time to see what you're working with."

The briefing continued for another ten minutes. Standard patrol procedures, emergency protocols, who to contact if things went sideways. Mills dismissed us with his usual charm and grace.

"Try not to embarrass the uniform. Dismissed."

Hayes led me through the base and down toward the harbor. Shell Town spread out below us, looking exactly like what it was. A sleepy fishing port where the most exciting thing that happened was usually a drunk sailor falling off a pier.

'If only they knew what was coming.'

"First assignment?" Hayes asked as we walked.

"Yeah. Loguetown before this."

"Big city marine, huh? Well, forget everything you learned there. Shell Town's different. Quieter. People here have been dealing with the same families for generations. Everyone knows everyone, and they don't much like outsiders telling them what to do."

I nodded, taking in the layout of the town. Main street running parallel to the harbor. Side streets branching off toward residential areas. The marine base sitting on the hill like a watchtower.

Need to memorize all of this. Know every alley, every rooftop, every escape route.

"Your job," Hayes continued, "is to be visible but not annoying. Walk the docks, check manifests, make sure nobody's bringing in anything that'll explode or grow legs and walk away. Simple stuff."

We reached the harbor proper. Fishing boats bobbed at their moorings, nets hanging out to dry. The smell of salt and fish filled the air, along with something else.

Tobacco smoke.

Hayes pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. "You smoke?"

The pack in my pocket seemed to burn against my chest. "Sometimes."

"Good. Gives you something to do with your hands when the locals start asking stupid questions." He offered me his pack.

I shook my head. "Got my own, thanks."

"Suit yourself. Come on, let's start the tour."

The next two hours were a crash course in Shell Town politics. Which fishermen could be trusted, which ones probably smuggled liquor on the side but weren't worth the paperwork. Which merchants paid their taxes and which ones needed watching.

Hayes knew everyone. More importantly, everyone knew him. He'd stop to chat with dock workers, ask after someone's sick kid, compliment a fisherman's catch. The kind of community policing that actually worked.

'This is what the marines could be. Should be.'

By lunch, my head was spinning with names and faces.

"Break time," Hayes announced, leading me to a small pier that jutted out into the harbor. "Lunch and a smoke. Best part of the job."

He settled onto a wooden crate and pulled out his cigarettes again. I found my own perch on a pile of old rope and finally, finally, retrieved the pack from my jacket.

The cellophane crackled as I opened it. The first cigarette came out perfect. Premium tobacco, perfect, exactly like I remembered from my old life.

Hayes whistled appreciatively. "Fancy. Those look expensive."

"Gift from family," I lied, lighting up with a match from his box.

The first drag hit like coming home. Rich, smooth, with that familiar burn in my lungs that I'd missed more than I'd realized.

'This is new.'

"You see that?" Hayes nodded toward the approaching vessel.

I squinted through the smoke. "Which one?"

"The merchant ship. Flying Goa Kingdom colors, but look at the crew."

I looked closer, my enhanced vision picking out details that should have been impossible at this distance. The crew moved wrong. Too coordinated. Too alert. And several of them had weapons poorly concealed under their work clothes.

"Pirates?"

"Maybe. Or smugglers trying to look like pirates. Either way, our afternoon just got interesting." Hayes flicked his cigarette into the water and stood up. "Come on, rookie. Time to earn that paycheck."

I took one last drag and reluctantly stubbed out the cigarette. The luxury tobacco deserved better, but duty called.

'First day on the job and already in action. This world doesn't waste time.'

This was about to become a very interesting afternoon.

Chapter 3: Hidden Depths

The merchant ship looked innocent enough from the outside. Standard cargo vessel, Goa Kingdom flags flying properly, crew going about their business with just the right amount of lazy efficiency.

But my instincts were screaming that something was wrong.

"Standard customs inspection," Hayes called out as we approached in our small patrol boat. "Permission to come aboard!"

A man with a scraggly beard and too many gold teeth appeared at the rail. Captain, probably. His smile was wide and welcoming, but his eyes kept darting toward the marine base on the hill.

"Of course, of course! Always happy to cooperate with the marines!"

'Too eager. Way too eager.'

Hayes made the boat fast to the side ladder and climbed up first. I followed, keeping my expression neutral while something nagged at the back of my mind. The crew's movements. The way they held themselves. Wrong somehow.

"...hide the...until they..."

"...twenty crates in the...don't let them..."

The words were too muffled to make out completely, but the tone was clear enough. Panic. Guilt. The kind of whispered urgency that came with contraband.

"Captain Torres," the gold-toothed man said, extending a hand to Hayes. "Welcome aboard the Golden Pearl. Just a simple trading vessel, bringing goods from the Goa Kingdom to Shell Town."

"Corporal Hayes, Shell Town Marine Base," Hayes replied, shaking the offered hand. "This is Marine Vincent. Routine inspection, nothing to worry about if your paperwork's in order."

Torres's smile twitched slightly. "Naturally, naturally. All proper and legal. Would you like to see the manifest?"

While Hayes reviewed the papers, I let my magic do the work. The faint current of ethernano flowing through my body seemed to respond to my focus, sharpening everything even further.

'What else can I do with this?'

I concentrated on the flow of magical energy, trying to push it outward instead of just enhancing my physical senses. Gildarts had been more than just raw strength. He'd had subtlety when he needed it. Precision.

There are many utility magics Gildarts possesses that were never mentioned or showcased in the manga.

The ethernano responded, spreading out like invisible threads. Not far, maybe ten feet in every direction, but enough to get a sense of what was around me.

Holy shit. It worked.

Through the wooden deck, I could feel hollow spaces. Hidden compartments that weren't on any ship's normal blueprints. And in those spaces...

Metal. Lots of it. The shape was wrong for normal cargo.

Weapons.

"Everything seems to be in order," Hayes was saying, though I caught the slight edge in his voice that suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "Mind if we take a look at the cargo hold? Standard procedure."

Torres's smile became more strained. "Of course, of course. Though I'm afraid it's quite cramped down there. Mostly textiles and spices, nothing very interesting."

'Liar.'

I extended my ethernano sense again, this time focusing on the people around me. I couldn't read minds or anything that advanced, but I could feel... tension. The kind of coiled readiness that came from experience with violence. Twelve men visible on deck, and my magical awareness picked up more below. Their postures, the way they breathed, everything screamed training.

Hayes caught my eye and raised an eyebrow slightly. I gave him the slightest nod. He'd been doing this long enough to read the signs too.

"Lead the way, Captain," Hayes said pleasantly.

Torres led us toward a hatch near the mainmast. Two crew members were loitering nearby, trying to look casual while blocking easy access to other parts of the ship.

'Sixteen men minimum. Hayes and me against all of them if this goes bad.'

The cargo hold was exactly what I'd expected. Crates and barrels stacked to the ceiling, with narrow walkways between them. Perfect place for an ambush, but also perfect for hiding things.

"As you can see," Torres said, gesturing broadly, "simple trade goods. Cloth from Goa, some preserved foods, nothing that would interest the marines."

Hayes nodded and started examining some of the manifest tags on the nearest crates. I hung back slightly, letting my ethernano sense spread out again.

There. Behind a wall of legitimate cargo, I could feel those hidden spaces again. My ethernano sense picked up the shapes inside. Organized. Purposeful. Weapons, had to be. And something else. Something dense and heavy that felt different from everything else around it.

Gold.

The distinctive weight and density was unmistakable through my magical sense. A lot of it. More than any legitimate merchant should be carrying.

'This isn't just smuggling. This is arms dealing with serious money behind it.'

I caught Hayes's attention and pointed subtly toward the area where I'd sensed the hidden compartments. He followed my gesture and frowned.

"What's behind that wall of crates, Captain?"

Torres's smile finally cracked. "Oh, that? Just... storage. Empty space. Ships need ballast, you understand."

"Mind if we take a look?"

"I'm afraid those crates are stacked quite securely. It would take hours to move them, and I wouldn't want to delay your important duties..."

Hayes stepped closer to Torres, his hand resting casually on his saber hilt. "Captain, I'm going to ask you one more time. What's behind those crates?"

The tension in the hold ratcheted up several notches. I could hear footsteps on the deck above us. More crew members moving into position. The other men in the hold had shifted subtly, hands drifting toward concealed weapons.

'Sixteen to two. Maybe worse odds if they've got friends in port.'

Torres's hand moved toward what was probably a concealed pistol. "Corporal Hayes, I think there's been a misunderstanding..."

The ethernano flowing through my body pulsed, ready to explode into action. But Hayes held up a hand slightly, a signal I'd learned to read in our brief partnership.

Wait.

"No misunderstanding, Captain," Hayes said calmly. "Just a routine inspection that's about to become very interesting."

The standoff stretched for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds.

Then Torres made his move.

The concealed pistol cleared leather faster than most people could blink. But to me it looked like he was moving through thick honey.

"Hayes, down!"

My body moved before my brain finished processing the threat. The wooden crate beside me exploded into splinters as my fist connected with it. Not a punch. Not even trying to hit hard. Just moving my arm and somehow channeling that destructive power.

Torres's eyes went wide. "What the hell—"

I was already moving. The narrow walkway between cargo stacks became a blur as I closed the distance. Torres tried to swing his pistol toward me, but I was faster. Way faster.

My hand wrapped around his wrist, and I felt the bones grind together under my grip.

"Drop it."

The pistol clattered to the deck.

"Impossible," Torres gasped. "You're just a marine grunt!"

"Yeah, well. Life's full of surprises."

The other crew members in the hold were already reaching for weapons. Curved sabers, boarding axes, a couple more pistols. I counted six of them in the cramped space.

Hayes was back on his feet, his own saber drawn. "Vincent, behind you!"

A burly man with arms like tree trunks swung a boarding axe at my head. I ducked, felt the blade whistle past my ear, and drove my elbow up into his ribs.

The crack was audible even over the shouting.

He flew backward into a stack of barrels, which collapsed with a thunderous crash. Preserved fish and brine went everywhere.

Two more came at me from different angles. Sabers gleaming in the dim hold lighting. I grabbed the nearest crate – had to weigh at least fifty pounds – and hurled it at the first one.

It hit him center mass and launched him into the bulkhead hard enough to dent the metal.

The second guy got close enough to take a swing. His blade scraped across my forearm, drawing blood but barely cutting skin. The ethernano flowing through me had somehow hardened my body without me even trying.

I grabbed his sword arm and twisted. The saber dropped, and he screamed.

"Sorry about this," I muttered, then drove my knee into his stomach.

He folded like a bad poker hand.

Hayes was holding his own against two opponents, his marine training showing as he parried and countered with textbook precision. But more footsteps were thundering down from the deck above.

"More company coming!" I called out.

"Handle it!" Hayes grunted, deflecting a particularly vicious slash. "I've got these two!"

Eight more crew members poured down the ladder into the hold. Weapons drawn, murder in their eyes. The space was getting crowded fast.

The first one managed to get his saber up in a decent guard position.

I hit him with what I thought was a light jab to the chest. He went backward through the wooden ladder, taking out two guys behind him in a tangle of limbs and splinters.

'Jesus Christ, I barely touched him!'

Another guy tried to brain me with a belaying pin. I caught it one-handed, and the wood crumbled to sawdust in my grip.

His face went pale. "What are you?"

I flicked my finger against his forehead. He went down like someone had hit his off switch.

The remaining four spread out, trying to surround me. Smart tactics, but they didn't know what they were dealing with.

One of them had a pistol. He raised it, and I felt that familiar tingle of ethernano responding to danger.

Time seemed to slow again as I moved. Not quite fast enough to dodge bullets, but fast enough to reach him before he could fire.

My hand closed over the pistol and his hand both. I squeezed gently – or what felt gentle to me.

The gun crumpled like tinfoil. His fingers... well, they'd heal eventually.

"Anyone else want to try their luck?"

The last three looked at each other, then at their groaning crewmates scattered around the hold, then back at me.

"We surrender!" one of them shouted, dropping his cutlass.

The other two followed suit.

Hayes finished off his opponents with a neat combination that left them both on the deck nursing broken ribs. He looked around at the destruction, then at me.

"Vincent... what the hell was that?"

I flexed my hands, feeling the ethernano still humming through my system. Just one percent higher, but it felt like the difference between a firecracker and a stick of dynamite.

"Special training," I said, which wasn't technically a lie. "Picked up some techniques."

Hayes stared at the crumpled remains of the ladder, the dented bulkhead, the unconscious crew members. "Some techniques."

Torres was still conscious, clutching his wrist and glaring at me with a mixture of fear and fury.

Hayes was already moving toward the hidden compartments I'd identified earlier. With most of the legitimate cargo scattered from the fight, the concealed spaces were easier to access.

"Well, well," he said, prying open a false panel. "Look what we have here."

Weapons. Lots of them. Military-grade rifles, ammunition, even a few of those weird bazooka-things I'd seen marines carry. And behind all of that...

Gold. Stacks and stacks of gold coins bearing the mark of various kingdoms.

"This is way bigger than simple smuggling," Hayes muttered. "This is enough firepower to outfit a small army."

"Torres," Hayes said, turning back to the captain. "You're going to tell us who you're working for. Who's buying these weapons. And you're going to tell us right now."

Torres spat blood. "Go to hell, marine."

I stepped closer, letting just a hint of ethernano leak into my voice. The ethernano made it carry differently, deeper and more threatening than my normal tone.

"Listen carefully, Captain. You just saw what I did to your entire crew without even trying. I'd really prefer not to find out what happens if I actually put some effort into it."

His face went pale. Smart man.

"There's... there's a meeting," he stammered. "Tonight. Shell Town docks. Someone's buying everything we can bring them."

"Who?"

"I don't know! I swear! We just get coordinates, drop times, payment schedules. Never see the buyers face to face."

Hayes and I exchanged glances. This was getting more complicated by the minute.

"What time?" Hayes demanded.

"Midnight. Dock seven."

I looked around at the wreckage of the cargo hold then opened my status.

Current Synchronization: Gildarts Clive — 12%.

It had gone up again. I smiled as I found myself getting stronger.

Chapter 4: The Trap

Getting back to the marine base took forever with sixteen prisoners and a ship full of contraband. Hayes had to call for backup just to transport everyone, and by the time we finished the paperwork, the sun was already setting.

"Arms dealing operation, unknown buyers, meeting scheduled for midnight," Captain Torres said, reading over our report. His jaw was doing that twitchy thing it did when he was pissed. "And you're telling me one marine recruit took down sixteen armed smugglers single-handedly?"

Hayes nodded. "Vincent's got some serious potential, sir. Might want to consider advanced training."

Vincent. Yeah, I'd finally told Hayes my actual name during the boat ride back. Felt weird having him call me by my last name when we were working together like this.

"Advanced training indeed," Torres muttered, giving me a look that was equal parts impressed and suspicious. "We'll discuss your future assignments later, Marine Vincent. For now, I want both of you at those docks tonight. If these buyers show up, we take them alive. I want to know who's funding this operation."

"Yes sir," we both said.

Torres dismissed us, and I headed back to my quarters. The day had been intense, but there was one thing I was looking forward to. My daily gacha pull.

I sat on my bunk and focused on that familiar sensation. The spinning wheel appeared in my mind, all those possibilities swirling around. Money, weapons, skills, power-ups... what would it be today?

The wheel slowed, clicked, stopped.

Ding!

A bottle materialized in my hands. I blinked at it, reading the label.

"Premium Herbal Shampoo - Guaranteed to give you the silkiest, most manageable hair you've ever had!"

I stared at the bottle for a long moment.

"Are you kidding me?"

Two days ago, I got a synchronization boost that made me stupidly powerful. Today I got... shampoo. The gacha really was random as hell.

Though to be fair, my hair had been getting pretty gross with all the marine training and sea spray. Maybe this wasn't completely useless.

I tucked the bottle into my gear bag. Who knows, maybe having great hair would boost my confidence or something. Stranger things had happened.

A few hours later, Hayes and I were crouched behind some cargo containers at dock seven. The place was dead quiet, just the sound of waves lapping against the pier and the occasional creak of rope.

"Midnight," Hayes whispered, checking his watch.

We waited. And waited.

"Quarter past," I said softly.

More waiting.

"Maybe they're just late?" Hayes suggested, but he didn't sound convinced.

By half past midnight, it was pretty obvious no one was coming.

"This is wrong," I muttered, scanning the empty dock. "Torres was terrified when he talked. He wasn't lying."

Hayes frowned. "So why didn't they show?"

I thought about it, letting my ethernano sense spread out around us. The dock was definitely empty, but something felt off. Too empty, maybe.

"Because they already know what happened to Torres," I said. "Someone warned them."

"But how? We arrested everyone on that ship, and they've been locked up since this afternoon."

"Maybe Torres wasn't the only contact. Or maybe..." I paused, a nasty thought occurring to me. "Maybe someone at the base tipped them off."

Hayes went very still. "You're suggesting we have a mole."

"I'm suggesting we walked into a trap."

As if on cue, I heard the distinctive sound of multiple weapons being cocked. My ethernano sense picked up movement all around us. Rooftops, alleyways, behind other cargo containers.

A lot of movement.

"Well, well," a voice called out from somewhere in the darkness. "If it isn't the marines who caused us so much trouble today."

Hayes and I pressed closer to our cover. We were surrounded, no question about it.

"Come out, come out," the voice continued. "No point hiding. We know exactly where you are."

I counted at least twenty different positions through my ethernano sense. All armed. All with clear lines of fire on our position.

"How many?" Hayes whispered.

"Too many,"

Hayes gave me a sharp look. "Vincent, don't do anything stupid. We're outnumbered twenty to one."

"Twenty to two," I corrected.

To be honest, I was getting real tired of people trying to kill me today.

"You have thirty seconds to surrender!" the voice shouted. "Drop your weapons and step out with your hands up, or we start shooting!"

Hayes cursed under his breath. "Ideas?"

I looked around at our cover. Wooden cargo containers. Not gonna stop rifle fire for long.

"Yeah," I said, flexing my hands. "Duck and cover."

"What?"

"Trust me on this one."

"Time's up!" the voice shouted.

Gunfire erupted from all directions. Bullets punched through our wooden cover like it was paper. Hayes dove flat, cursing.

I stood up.

The ethernano surged through my system as I moved. Time didn't slow down this time – I was just faster. Way faster.

I grabbed a chunk of broken concrete from the dock and hurled it at the nearest muzzle flash. The sound it made when it hit was... unpleasant.

"What the hell—"

Another shooter tried to get a bead on me from a rooftop. I picked up a piece of rebar and threw it like a javelin. It went through the building's wall with a sound like thunder.

"He's moving too fast!"

"Shoot him!"

They tried. Problem was, I wasn't where their bullets were going anymore.

I reached the first group behind some barrels. Three guys with rifles, all looking real surprised to see me up close.

"Evening, fellas."

I tapped the first one on the forehead. He went down like someone had unplugged him.

The second guy tried to swing his rifle at me like a club. I caught it one-handed and the metal bent like putty.

"Huh. That's new."

Third guy was backing away, fumbling for a pistol. I flicked the bent rifle at his feet. He tripped and went down hard.

More gunfire from the other positions. I could hear Hayes moving behind better cover, probably trying to flank them while they were all focused on me.

Smart guy.

I jumped – and holy shit, I actually jumped. Like, twenty feet straight up onto a cargo container. The impact cracked the metal beneath my feet.

'Definitely stronger than this morning.'

From up there I could see all their positions. Rooftops, alleyways, behind cover. Maybe eighteen left now.

I grabbed the edge of the cargo container and ripped off a section of metal sheeting. Used it like a shield as I jumped down into the next group.

The improvised shield took about a dozen bullets before I got close enough to start tapping people on the head again.

"Stay down and you won't get hurt worse," I called out as another three guys joined the nap pile.

Someone with a shotgun got brave and rushed me from behind. I spun around and caught both barrels of his gun in one hand. The metal crumpled like an empty beer can.

"Really?"

I pushed gently on his chest with one finger. He slid backward about ten feet and sat down hard.

The remaining shooters were starting to panic. I could hear them shouting at each other, trying to coordinate, but their positions were all wrong now. They'd set up to ambush two marines taking cover, not to deal with one guy bouncing around like a rubber ball.

Hayes had worked his way around to their flank and was picking off the ones I hadn't reached yet. Good marine training showing again.

"Retreat! Fall back!" someone yelled.

Too late for that.

I reached the last group just as they were trying to pack up their gear. Five guys, all looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

"Sorry about this," I said, and started the gentle head-tapping routine.

Within about three minutes, the dock was quiet except for a lot of groaning.

Hayes emerged from behind a stack of crates, looking around at all the unconscious bodies scattered everywhere.

"Vincent... what the hell are you?"

"Just a simple marine,"

I smirked and said nothing more.

I then decided to check my status again, to confirm something.

The notification appeared in my mind like it had earlier.

Current Synchronization: Gildarts Clive - 13%
Next Gacha Spin Available: 16 hours, 47 minutes

Thirteen percent now. The synchronization was definitely also tied to combat, or at least to using the power. Every real fight pushed it higher.

Chapter 5: Aftermath

The cleanup took until dawn.

Twenty unconscious smugglers, arms dealers, or whoever the hell they were. Captain Torres had to call in half the base just to process them all. And of course, none of them were talking.

"Professional mercenaries," Torres said, reading through the interrogation reports. "No identification, no affiliations they'll admit to. Whoever hired them paid well enough to buy silence."

I was sitting in his office, still trying to process everything that had happened. Hayes was next to me, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"The weapons cache from the ship is worth more than this base sees in a year," Torres continued. "Military-grade equipment, foreign manufacture. Someone's building a private army."

"Any leads on who?" I asked.

Torres shook his head. "That's above my pay grade now. I've sent word to Marine Headquarters. They're sending someone to take over the investigation."

'Great. More attention.'

"In the meantime," Torres said, giving me that look again, "we need to talk about you, Marine Vincent."

Here it comes.

"Sir?"

"Don't 'sir' me, boy. I've been a marine for twenty years. I've seen devil fruit users, swordsmen who can cut steel, fighters who can punch through stone." He leaned forward. "What you did last night was impressive. You're strong, Vincent. Really strong for someone your age."

Hayes shifted uncomfortably. "Captain, Vincent's been performing well since—"

"Above well," Torres cut him off. "Kid took down twenty armed mercenaries like it was nothing. That's not rookie-level strength."

I shrugged. "I've always been pretty strong, sir."

"Pretty strong?" Torres raised an eyebrow. "Son, you threw a piece of rebar through a building. Most marines twice your age couldn't do that."

The room went quiet. I could hear the clock ticking on his desk.

"Look, I'm not complaining," Torres said finally. "Strong marines are good marines. But I need to know if there's more to this. Any surprises I should know about?"

“Didn't think it was that big a deal."

Torres stared at me for a moment, then laughed. "Not a big deal? He says."

"Corporal Hayes, you're dismissed. Vincent, stay."

Hayes shot me a worried look but left without argument.

Torres waited until the door closed, then sat back down.

"Off the record," he said quietly. "I don't care how strong you are as long as you use it right. You saved lives yesterday, probably prevented a lot worse from happening.”

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet." He looked up. "You still need to make a report."

"Understood."

"And Vincent? Whatever this strength of yours is... use it wisely. The marines need people like you."

I nodded and left his office.

=====

Two weeks later, everything had settled into a new routine.

The investigation team from Headquarters had come and gone, taking most of the smugglers with them.

Hayes and I were still partnered up, which was good. He'd stopped asking questions about my abilities after the first few days, probably figuring he was better off not knowing.

My synchronization had been steadily climbing. Started at 13% after the dock fight, increasing by 1% every day. But when it hit 20%, things changed. The daily increase dropped to 0.5%, and after two weeks total, I was sitting at 23.5%.

More importantly, at 20% I'd unlocked something new. Crash Magic. Novice level, but still... actual magic.

Problem was, I had about as much control over it as Gildarts did in the stories. Which is to say, almost none.

I'd tried hiding it at first, but with control this bad? Inevitable that people would notice. Yesterday I'd tried to gently tap a training dummy and accidentally turned it into sawdust. This morning I'd reached for my coffee mug and somehow made it implode. Hayes had been there for both incidents, eyes wide with surprise.

"What the hell was that?" he'd asked after the coffee mug exploded.

"Devil fruit," I'd said quickly. "Just... figured it out recently. Still learning how to control it."

"Ah." His surprised expression immediately shifted to understanding.

He nodded like everything suddenly made perfect sense. In this world, devil fruits were the go-to explanation for weird powers. Captain Torres had the same reaction when Hayes reported it - surprise first, then complete understanding once the words "devil fruit" came up.

The power responded to emotion more than conscious control. Just like how Gildarts accidentally destroyed half of Magnolia whenever he came back from missions. When I was calm, I could sometimes manage small, controlled bursts. When I was surprised or frustrated? Everything around me was at risk.

More of his knowledge kept flowing in too. Combat instincts that weren't mine originally. Ways of moving, thinking, fighting that felt completely natural now. Sometimes I'd catch myself knowing things I'd never learned - like how to read the flow of a fight, or the best angle to strike someone's guard.

But the daily gacha pulls... those kept coming.

In the past two weeks, I'd gotten:

A compass that always pointed to the nearest tavern
Fifty berries in loose change
A book titled "Advanced Knot Tying for Beginners"
A pair of socks that never got wet
A small telescope
Another handful of berries
A pen that never ran out of ink
Some kind of energy bar that tasted like cardboard but apparently had "all essential nutrients"
A pocket knife with way too many attachments
A bar of soap that smelled like flowers
Three more berries
A small notebook
And this morning... a bottle of really good rum