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East Blue, Loguetown.
The plaza was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder, whispering among themselves like a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing endlessly in one's ears.
BOOM!
Thunder cracked across the sky, and a flash of silver lightning lit up the entire square in an instant.
"Hey! Pirate King, where did you hide all the treasure you found? Is it really in the Grand Line? You found it, didn't you?! The one and only Great Treasure—ONE PIECE!"
Suddenly, an average-looking man from the crowd shouted out, his words directed right at the man shackled and kneeling on the high execution platform—Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King!
That random man would later become famously known across forums and fan communities as the one who truly ignited the Great Age of Pirates.
Whether Roger had planned that outburst or not remains a mystery. But the moment the words left the man's mouth, the crowd fell silent as if someone had pressed a mute button.
Even their breathing became cautious. All eyes locked onto Roger, terrified of missing a single word.
The executioners stood frozen, their minds blank, unsure of how to handle the sudden turn of events.
"Hahahahaha!! You want my treasure? Go ahead—find it if you can! I left everything this world has to offer… in one place, in ONE PIECE!!!!
Roger sat cross-legged, his voice a thunderous roar that echoed across the square.
"Execution!!!"
The startled executioner finally snapped out of it and, without hesitation, drove his spear forward. In an instant, it pierced through Roger's chest.
[The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger—Dead!!!]
"Uwoooohhh!!!"
With those words, the entire square erupted in chaos. Around the world, people watching the grand execution via broadcast were thrown into a frenzy.
Adventurers cheered to seek the Grand Treasure, schemers plotted their next move, and revolutionaries watched coldly from the shadows.
Everyone knew—
A new era was about to rise, and so, the so-called Great Pirate Era… had begun.
"Damn it…!!"
In a tower not far from the execution platform, a middle-aged man with braided chin hair and frog-shaped glasses watched the chaos unfold and roared in frustration.
His grip on the windowsill was so tight it cracked beneath his hands. Because he knew the world was about to be turned upside down.
That man… was Sengoku, Admiral of the Marine Headquarters.
"Mmm…"
In a nearby alley, not far from the square, a boy lay face down on the ground like a discarded dog.
The uproar around him seemed to stir something in his unconscious body. His neck stiffly lifted, revealing a handsome, youthful face—he looked about eleven or twelve.
His dazed eyes scanned the surroundings and landed on Roger's calm, death-bound expression. His pupils shrank violently in shock.
"Gol D. Roger… the Pirate King!!"
As a die-hard One Piece fan, he recognized that wild yet charismatic face instantly, especially those two odd strands of facial hair that could only be either a mustache or nose hair.
No matter how many dimensions you crossed, those were unmistakable.
Yes—this boy was a transmigrator, one of many who had crossed into the world of One Piece. Unfortunately for him, he was now stuck in this chaotic world.
In his previous life, he had been a perfectly ordinary orphan. With the government's help, he barely made it through college and landed a stable job.
Who would've thought that after one night's sleep, he'd end up in this damned world?
To him, One Piece was just a fun anime to enjoy from a distance. But now, faced with this brutal reality, survival would be a tale of blood and tears.
Because in this world, there weren't just idiot Celestial Dragons lording over the masses, but also ruthless pirates looting and murdering without restraint.
And as for Luffy's crew? They were outliers—even among pirates. A rare group shouting about dreams and freedom while still breaking all order and law.
Normal moral standards couldn't measure pirates like them. If he were ever caught in the crossfire of their battles, someone like him-a powerless civilian—wouldn't stand a chance.
"Kanos Atlas, huh…?" The boy muttered softly. "Guess I have no choice but to live in this world under your name."
This boy—Atlas—used his last bit of strength to push himself up. He needed to get away from this place as fast as possible. It was far too dangerous here.
Legends like Red-Haired Shanks, Dracule Mihawk, Donquixote Doflamingo, and Gecko Moria were all rumored to be present today.
Though they weren't as renowned as they'd become in the future, their presence already radiated the aura of future great pirates.
The Marines would never pass up such an opportunity to snuff out danger before it grew. Sengoku, being a master strategist, would surely understand this.
But pirates and would-be kings of the sea weren't the type to surrender quietly. Soon, this place would become a battlefield soaked in blood and fire.
If someone like Atlas got caught up in that… he'd probably become the unluckiest transmigrator in history.
Stumbling forward, his body frail and aching, Atlas headed toward the Marine base, guided only by fragmented memories of Kanos Atlas's former life.
His legs felt like they were filled with lead, his stomach burned like it had been lit on fire, and his very breath came in painful gasps.
But he gritted his teeth and pressed on. As an orphan, he'd long since learned that survival depends on oneself.
To live… or die…It's always just one decision away.
Time dragged slowly. What should've been a walk of ten minutes felt like an agonizing eternity.
But in the distance, the seagull insignia of the Marines came into view—a symbol of justice clutching a balanced scale. The sight filled him with a strange sense of relief.
But without the adrenaline keeping him going, his body finally gave in. His vision blurred, and the roar of cannon fire and shouting began to fade.
"I…"
Before he could finish his sentence, the world turned black, and his body collapsed face-first onto the ground.
"Quick! There's a boy passed out over there!"
Hurried footsteps rang out in his ears—the last thing he heard before falling into unconsciousness.
A single beam of sunlight pierced the clouds, shining down on Loguetown, still bearing the scars of chaos. It was as if the light itself were heralding a new beginning.
Marine Base.
A handsome boy lay motionless on a hospital bed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, a troubled expression occasionally flashing across his face.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open!
Bloodshot and filled with confusion, his gaze darted around the room. His fists clenched instinctively, knuckles whitening.
His pupils contracted again. "I'm not dreaming… I did transmigrate into the world of One Piece."
Atlas desperately wished all this was just a bizarre, fleeting dream. But reality had slapped him hard. There was no going back.
With a long sigh, Atlas resigned himself to fate. Now, it was time to think about his next move—power.
If he wanted to survive in the world of pirates, he needed overwhelming strength.
In this lawless world ruled by survival of the fittest, strength was the only way to stay alive, and so he decided to join the Marines.
Yes, in the One Piece anime, the Marines often acted as the World Government's enforcers, with some rotten elements like Captain Nezumi colluding with pirates and oppressing civilians.
But that didn't erase the truth: the Marines were the only real force maintaining justice and order across the seas.
The Revolutionary Army? It was questionable whether they even existed at this point.
From what little he knew of their vague principles and organization, they still seemed immature and unstable, and as for becoming a pirate?
Atlas had never even considered it.
Raised under the red flag of socialism, having received a full nine-year compulsory education, Atlas couldn't bring himself to adopt a pirate's lifestyle—no matter how idealized or sanitized it was in the anime.
A Pirate was still a Pirate.
More importantly, he had lived too comfortably in his old world.
He couldn't imagine surviving a life of endless drifting on the sea, with no food, no shelter, and danger lurking at every turn.
The disgusting Celestial Dragons? Sure, they were a menace. But as long as he didn't cross their paths, he wouldn't have to worry—at least for now.
After all, he was just a struggling, powerless newcomer. Saving the world wasn't his concern.
Realistically, someone like him didn't even have the qualifications to meet the so-called World Nobles.
Atlas gave a dry chuckle at his self-awareness.
Another reason to join the Marines:
They offer structured training and mentorship. They could provide some protection while he was still weak, giving him the time and resources to grow stronger.
In a world this chaotic, seeking shelter under Marine justice was his only viable choice. Otherwise, he would've been eliminated from the game of life on day one.
"Knock, knock knock…" Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted Atlas's train of thought.
"Come in…" he replied hoarsely, his voice unusually dry, perhaps due to dehydration. It felt foreign in his throat.
The door creaked open, and a beam of light spilled into the room, outlining a tall, broad-shouldered man in a Marine justice cloak, his face stern and commanding.
Atlas tensed. While he couldn't yet decipher the exact meaning of the man's epaulettes, he knew only commissioned officers and above had the right to wear that cloak.
Which meant—this man was at least an Ensign. Atlas instinctively tried to sit up out of respect.
"Heh… No need for that, kid. You're still recovering," the man said with a wave of his hand, a glimmer of approval in his eyes.
"I'm Marcus Wright, a Lieutenant at the Loguetown Marine Base. You can call me Lieutenant Wright." He offered a friendly smile.
"Yes, Lieutenant Wright! I'm Atlas—Kanos Atlas. I'm an orphan, and I aspire to become a Marine who stands for justice!"
Despite the effort it took, Atlas sat up as best he could and gave the strongest reply his weakened voice would allow.
"Oh? A Marine of justice, huh…" Wright's face softened with satisfaction.
That damned Roger had thrown the world into chaos with his final words—what was once stable was now beginning to unravel.
The Marines needed more young men like this one—burning with righteous fire—to restore order across the seas.
If only all boys could be like Atlas… The thought gave way to a fleeting shadow across Wright's face.
But then he straightened his back and reignited the fire in his own heart. Yes—this was why he fought.
"Then tell me, boy… What does justice mean to you?" Lieutenant Wright's tone grew serious, his sharp eyes locking onto Atlas's.
"Justice… Justice means punishing evil and protecting the innocent!"
A flush of red swept across Atlas's pale cheeks as he spoke with passion.
Of course, he was putting on a bit of a show—this was the kind of answer a hot-blooded youth should give.
If he started shouting something like "I believe in Absolute Justice," he'd sound like Akainu!
His answer needed to reflect the mindset and experience of a 12-year-old—only then would the Marines shape him into their version of justice.
"Is that so… That's a fine view of justice." Wright smiled, a subtle but knowing smile. He had heard many young Marines say the same thing before.
He had once believed the very same.
"I've heard your thoughts on justice, Atlas. But the Marines don't recruit 12-year-olds. However, I can make an exception and take you in as a chore boy at our base."
Wright's voice grew firm. "But listen well—there's no room for slackers in the Marines. If you don't do your job properly, I'll have no choice but to kick you out. Understand, Atlas?"
"Chore Boy Atlas, reporting for duty, sir!" Atlas snapped a salute, his voice filled with genuine excitement.
This wasn't fake—this moment truly mattered. It meant he was now part of this world. It meant he had a path to grow stronger.
Grrrrrrr…
Suddenly, his stomach growled loudly, breaking the serious tone in the room. Embarrassed, Atlas scratched his head.
He hadn't eaten in days—his survival could only be attributed to the freakish vitality common in the One Piece world.
"Haha… All right, go get yourself a proper meal at the base cafeteria," Wright chuckled.
"After all, you can't uphold justice on an empty stomach." He smiled warmly. In the end, the kid was still just a child.
"Yes, sir!" Atlas responded loudly.
...
Marine Base – Captain's Office
Lieutenant Wright stood at attention before a desk, reporting his earlier encounter with Atlas.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man, a cigar clamped between his teeth, thick smoke coiling around him.
His features were hidden behind the haze, but his eyes—sharp and weathered—cut through like steel. These were the eyes of a man forged by blood and fire.
"Kanos Atlas. Born in Shell Town, under the jurisdiction of the 153rd Marine Branch. Went missing a year ago after being attacked by pirates during a family trip."
"He's been living in Loguetown for the past six months. Parents' whereabouts unknown…"
"Attacked by pirates, huh…" The man exhaled a thick plume of smoke. "What a chaotic world we live in."
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