Before Dawn, There Was Seb

[kolakosa]

Seb Mercer is a college student who finds himself stranded in an Alabastan desert three years following Gol D. Roger's death. Feeling destined for greatness, he strives to become a legend in the nebulous generation that stands between the Pirate King and Straw Hat through the assistance of an RPG system.

Disclaimer: This is my 2nd-ish serious attempt at writing, so bear with me and my mistakes.

This story will have little to no romance.

This takes place 19 years before the main continuity so there will be little interaction with canon events, though I will sprinkle in canon characters. I reserve the right to make decisions that alter canon following a choice or an event.

The MC will eventually become a pirate.

This is a System Fic, a LitRPG, a Gamer Fic, whatever you want to call it.

The system provides a veritable boost when it comes to progression, though he will struggle and there are those with the potential to grow even faster than he.

---

 

[kolakosa]

The circumstances I've been subject to confuse me thoroughly. It too, angers me beyond belief- no, it angers me to the point of revelation, leading me to a profound awareness that nothing in my life has ever warranted anger except my current situation. It was likely a byproduct of my mediocre living thus far, a fact that angered me more, though it all paled in comparison to the coruscating fear that lies within me, the kind that makes your heart writhe and contort and your limbs fill with ice, though on this specific occasion I felt no chill, for I was in a desert.

For the past hour, I've been trudging across the spot Satan feels most keen sunbathing, where golden sand creeps into my sandals and scorches my soles like hot ash, my feet left covered with battle scars reminiscent of a war horse's hide. Now, you may wonder why I find myself here.

Shit, I'd like to know too, for my intentions were simple: I would leave my house and take a very short, direct route to school by way of foot. It seems my body didn't get the memo and found its way into a destitute dust bowl in the midst of my daydream, a fact that was only brought to my attention once I felt sand sear the bottom of my feet like a steak cooked slow.

I am not yet without hope, however.

I am under the belief that my appearance here is supernatural for two main reasons. Firstly, I do not live near a fucking desert, secondly, I am sporting a silk robe and a headscarf. I surely did not walk outside my house dressed like such, but it leads me to think whatever force drew me to this location is at the bare minimum, looking out for me by handing out location appropriate apparel. Without it, I might have already succumbed to heatstroke and lethal sunburn.

Sunburn seems to be the least of my problems. The more pressing matters to attend to are obvious, things like water, food, better yet, some nice shade.

Grumblegrumblegrumblegrumble

My stomach demands we make food a priority, but I have zero control over my fate as it stands. I regret missing breakfast.

Just how much longer must I walk until I find safety? What if that lost meal was crucial to my survival, bestowing upon me the energy I needed to traverse what, a couple more kilometers? Where I'd then find an oasis, or more importantly, civilization.

If only a tiger gobbled me up this very moment, shall I live without regret.

I guess that's not ideal either. And tigers don't live in the desert.

With pessimistic thoughts at the forefront of my mind, I have no choice but to take my mind off things. Spacing out during a walk might just be the reason I wound up here, but there's nothing left to do besides walk goddamnit! my mind must be stifled before it goes haywire.

And so I look towards the cloudless sky, emanating an overpowering azure hue unlike anything I've seen before. It was beautiful, perhaps a little blinding despite its opposition to the sun, but nothing in sight was able to ease my eyes regardless, except seemingly my shadow.

My mind was cleared of man-eating tigers and purified of impatient, childish remarks like 'How long left?' and 'Are we almost there?', whatever 'there' was supposed to mean.

God, who would've thought that I, Sebastian "Seb" Mercer, would come to admire a natural view one day. All those who doubted me, look at me now! For I am not the anime and video game addict you view me as. I am the earth, and the earth is me, we live in harmony; yin and yang, we are!

This heat is DREADFUL, I'm never going outside ever again! Not once, not ever!

Crawling up the horizon, I spot a grey, stony construct in the distance, a welcome break for my eyes which, for the past hour and a half have been blasted by the reflective rays of the sunkissed sky and sand. It is a few moments later I realise the implications of this structure's existence: it was made for reasons beyond the selfish need of a change in scenery. It was a mark of civilization!

People must live there.
And people live around water…
So there must be water!

As I advance along, maintaining my steady pace, I see that this rock monument rests against a colossal sandstone plateau, resembling a mighty oak that has been rendered into a mere stump. On either side of the plateau were similar monuments. Further along I spot buildings atop the raised surface which lets me know for certain that food, water, shade, safety- it is near; my arrival is nigh.

There was no inkling within me to question the scenario anymore, the thought never approached my mind ever since I began to admire the sky. I accepted this odd predicament and through the power that lies within my legs, slogging endlessly against harsh terrain, I had finally done it.

That power runs thin however, my quads, glutes and calves feel on the verge of atrophy, but if I were to stop now I would succumb to cramps with paralytic potency. So I must persevere, I will reach safety or die trying.

It is several kilometers before I near the monument and realise that it is not a monument, but in fact a set of stairs leading to the city ahead. The possibility of this escaped my mind, perhaps my subconscious refused to accept the sheer amount of walking that was truly required in this case. Regardless, my legs were surely fucked.

Thanks to the foresight of the builders and architects who designed and toiled to create these steps, a water fountain had been installed off to the side, which I staggered like a drunk towards, placing my mouth against the tap and letting water fill it so that I may devour it in monstrous, practically unhealthy gulps.

Once I'm done replenishing my body of its vital fluids, I notice that a colorful, plastic sign is nailed on the fountain. On it is an illustration of a familiar duck looking mascot that salutes me.

-Caw! Well done, weary traveller!
Welcome to the eastern Alubarna entrance, have some water before you ascend kuku~

Isn't that..
…

AM I IN ONE PIECE!?!

[Immense mental distress identified]
[Seek therapeutic action immediately!]​

Therapeutic action was unnecessary despite this newfound system's best concerns. It had only reacted to the initial shock, though my nerves settled quite quickly after the fact. There was absolutely zero toll on my mental health, or so I hope.

I did know something was up when my walk to school turned into a lively desert trek, so coming to terms with the fact that I was in One Piece, and more prevalently, the fact I have some sort of system, was not that grand of an ordeal.

It isn't long before I swallow these sudden facts of my life, it then digests in my stomach and radiates out in the form of.. Complete, unadulterated, excitement.

What? Should I mope around when given this incredible opportunity, or grab it tight so that I may wring it for everything it has? You must be stupid if you think I'm gonna cry about it.

With this burst of motivation empowering me, I embark on the last step of the journey: These godforsaken steps.

I clamber along, scaling the stair on both hands and feet like I was a child bear-crawling his way to a second floor. It's not long before I find myself at the halfway point. It's not as though I'm flying past these steps, but my strained legs seemed to recover miraculously well, possibly through the assistance of the system which I am intent on reviewing later on.

I do not assess it now however, as my robe is a tricky beast to fend off and likes to hook onto my sandals and disturb my climb, any more distractions may spell the anticlimactic end of me.

Eventually my feet find the summit, though the climb took a toll on me- my knees involuntarily buckle and I'm forced to clutch my heart through my chest, fighting to steal a gasp from the claustrophobic city air for I am positively exhausted.

Through my nostrils comes the salivating stench of grilled meats, then in flows the calming aromas emanating from the Oasis' greenery, particularly the flowers. These flowers, as it turns out, do not look like they come from my world, they appear to be entirely unique to the world of One Piece, a final and resolute sign that I have been transmigrated for better or for worse. One of these flowers had a tyrian-white sheen on its petals, supporting it from below was a fibrous stalk - inches thick - that spiralled down in spring-like fashion. This plant sat beside its brethren, organized in a row outside a restaurant.

This was one of many examples of unique One Piece wildlife that existed just in my field of vision alone. Another case is that of the Golden Apple, which a vendor hankered to sell to a man donning what appeared to be a black kimono, unlike the typical robes most wore (including myself for some mysterious reason).

"A single bite from this very apple grants a thousand years of immortality!" He proclaimed to the tourist in black. "A second bite? Well that's a thousand more for 'ya!"

Oh, it's that scam. The one Ace refused? The one Chopper and Ussop foamed at the mouth over? Yeah, that one. Visitors were the ideal target it seemed, I'll steer clear.

One massive wad of cash is exchanged and soon the tourist bites into it. His brow furrows. Moments later, he goes apeshit.

Was it the taste of fresh paint that clued 'ya in?

The apple is propelled from the tourists palm and plonks shallowly against the vendor's skull. It caused him to reel more than anything. No actual damage taken- but the threat was clear.

One obscenity later and the fool storms off, though not without his money.

An event like this might've been a highlight of my day, something that I could bring up and have it lead to a fruitful conversation, but it is a mere footnote in the day of an Alabastan. Many such events happen here, all in quick succession- like a local who gasps in fear, wonder and sentimentality in the face of a sickly oracle, who I presume to have determined something about this man. Moments later, my attention is drawn to a new happening, and then a new one. This goes on and on until it blurs together, culminating into the phenomena that is the Alubarnan ambience.

I direct my focus deeper into the city, waiting for my turn in a sea of relentless traffic, seeking a gap and blasting through to end up on the other side of the street. I continue on at a leisurely pace, strolling past avenues, businesses and residencies.

The architecture of Alubarna is interesting, mostly seen in the form of reproducible sandstone cubes and rectangles that are lined up in blocks, which themselves are not unique by shape, but by color, each building painted in its own eye catching manner, usually around the top as though each building wore a headband. They are then made interesting through shape by the domes that decorate the tops of most, if not all buildings, each taking on their own distinctive forms and colors.

The commotion did indeed lessen as I ventured inwards, it too wasn't without its happenings. Ahead of me stood an alley entrance, and out of that opening rushed a man adorned in a typical robe and a white head scarf adorned with black splotches. Covering this robe were crimson splotches- stab wounds all over his body save for his back. He was covered like an infant who just discovered paint, but the situation he was in wasn't so innocent. Grave danger followed behind him.

Hooked beneath his eyes were purple markings, below them stretched downwards lines, his chin and mouth resting between. These markings were indicative of a man I remember somewhat fondly within the series I now inhabit.

They belong to Pell, The Guardian Falcon of Alabasta.

There was something wrong with him though, something very wrong. No, it was not the stab wounds that gave off that idea, no matter how much it should, it was something different…

He was younger than me! I was a humble 19 years of age, yet this man who I presumed to be Pell.. He looked about 16. It's not as though I put much thought into it, but I wager that he was in his mid thirties. This must mean that not only am I in One Piece, I have been sent back roughly 20 years behind the current continuity.

When I said that 'Grave danger followed behind him', I meant that in the literal sense. Two thugs whose headscarves covered their entire face followed Pell, in their hands they held tight long, curving daggers that were marred with rust and smeared with blood, fresh and dry.

I take this as a sign from who- or whatever plucked me from my world and flicked me in the Sandoran desert that I must take these bastards on, why else would such an 'important' figure cross paths with me just now, especially whilst facing dire straits. I eye the two bandits.

Plus, taking them down might have something to do with the system, hehe.

The three rushed by, hurrying across the street and into an opposing avenue. I traced their path, going low to swipe a rock from the floor before picking up the pace. The rock sat with a veritable heft in my palm, it filled me with confidence and allowed me to follow them without fear of detection as they busied themselves in their reckless pursuit of Pell.

The chase ends in that alley, with Pell clinging to the top of a wooden fence whilst the duo scramble to pull him down by his legs. His injured disposition proves futile against such resistance and so he falls to the ground without ceremony, a light grunt exiting his mouth. Still, he maintains his defensive composure, turning his back to the wall and facing the two with a fierce glare like all hawk's ought to have.

"This is the end of the line for you, Pell!" One roar whilst the other growled something about revenge. I take it he did a number on their guys before his luck ran dry. Who knew he'd up with enough plot armour to withstand a nuclear fucking explosion. I'm still pissed about that.

I reaffirm my grip on the stone and get into a comfortable position. I try to make haste as the situation for our friend is dire, but I must ensure that whatever I do works well.

Once settled into a stance, I draw my arm back, eyes locked onto the closest bandit before casting the stone against the back of his noggin. He is sent for a loop, buckling forward as he unintentionally loosens the grip on his blade.

"Watch it! That's the legendary Pell you're going after!" I pound my chest in an attempt to posture in the hopes that fear envelops them. I am unsuccessful.

The two thugs tired from running turn back in surprise, one with fury in his eyes, clearly miffed that I desecrated his skull with a high velocity pebble. He reclaims his sword and I instinctively recoil, which is when I begin to regret going through with this.

Should I depend on Pell to make a comeback while they're focused on me? I look towards him and take into account his sorry state, coming to the realisation that I and I alone have to fend off these two ne'er do wells.

This is where the [System] comes in.

Name: Sebastian Mercer​

Level: 1
XP: 0 / 100

Stats:

Strength: 5
Speed: 4
Vitality: 6
Mind: 8

Unassigned Points: 10

Health: 60 / 60
Stamina: 43 / 60​

HP Regeneration Rate: 0.6/m
Stamina Regeneration Rate: 6/m


Skills:

Observe: (MAX)

Perks:

Much to my dismay, it is devoid of anything special, save for the [Observe] skill, which I don't see as useful in this situation. I suppose it is fair seeing as I am level 1. I lower my gaze and see that I have 10 points freely available. I look back to the slowly approaching bandits and stand firm, instead of weak and nervous. This was in the hopes that I could buy more time to make a decision with these ten free points.

I decide to strike a balance, putting five into both STR and SPD.

STR: 5 → 10
SPD: 4 → 9

Fibre, much like that coiling plant before, enveloped my frame from beneath the skin, warping and adding definition to my body, as well as a rigidity that betrayed my previous, skinny disposition, transforming me into something of an athlete in a matter of moments. The two's eyes were corrupted with seething anger, obscuring this sudden change, though the same couldn't be said for Pell, who looked in confusion.

These gains were immediately put to use as I explode forth with a muscular detonation of force, blasting ahead with power and speed that I was not yet used to, but when you're barrelling head on against an opponent, it's remarkably difficult to miss. I stretch a fist out from ahead of me, directing it towards the midpoint of his body: The solar plexus.

He collapses inelegantly and I just stand there for a moment, almost reveling in the sensation of a solid punch, though I move quickly from there and towards the opponent who, by the time I reach him, has just barely recovered from the shock of some scrawny- now sorta muscular kid rendering his companion useless.

He swings a blade my way and I clumsily dart back, my body acting by reflex. We circle each other for a few moments, silent tension enveloping the two of us. We act at the same time, though I act unpredictably, lunging forth, lunging back as he tries to keep an oncoming opponent at bay, and lunging back in to plunge my fist into his face.

He is sent throttling back a few feet. While I wasn't superhuman by real world comparisons just yet, my blows had power behind them, power that could render these two unconscious in a few swift blows.

Wait! Before moving on, I must verify that they are indeed incapacitated, which is where the once useless skill comes into play.

[Observe]

The first one read as follows:

(Status: Unconscious)
Recovery Time: 00:02:31

And the second:

(Status: Unconscious)
Recovery Time: 00:03:01

These 'Recovery Times' ticked down by the second, but I was surely safe.

[+50 XP]
[+50 XP]
[Level up!]
[You are now Level 2]

And that is just proof of my somewhat-hard-earned victory. I love this System.

Just as I was about to bring my character sheet back up, a voice interrupted me.

"Your form was sloppy." He remarked with a pained grin.

Oh gee, how grateful of you 'Pellerine'. I stare towards him with a brow furrowed inquisitively. "I take it you were in control of the situation?" Pell hadn't died in the main continuity, chances are he would've lived regardless, but I'll banter back if he will.

"Yeah?! I sure was. Before all this I took down twenty of their guys, I'd like to see you try that." Point made, I guess. He takes a breath and continues, "I'd advise you don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong, things could get deadly."

I disagree, levelling up is more my jam.

"But, now that you're here and willing to stake your life on the line for me," He looks on, pained not because of his condition, but because of what he has to bring himself to ask, "Would you mind helping me back home? I.. I don't think I can do it myself." His request betrayed the prideful, scarless-backed man he was, but what else could he say?

I guess it couldn't hurt to help. Now! I could do it free of charge, but I am a man of urgent needs like food, water and shelter, and so I resort to haggling with the man.

"Sure! But one thing." I say, beginning my proposal. "Believe it or not, I am homeless and financially destitute, if I am to bring you home, can you ensure that I get a good few night's rest at your place? I did stake my life for you, after all." I say with the grace of a man who's willing to let a sword disfigure his back as long as it benefits him.

My bartering skills are unparalleled, hehe.

 

[Xcell]

Seems interesting and I have to see more chapters.