Alright guys, this is the new chapter for today and the final chapter for the first Arc.
To begin writing the next Arc, I require your completion of the voting process, as the main story will commence in the upcoming chapter. I decided to leave the voting poll open for two weeks. I believe that two weeks will provide ample opportunity for you to cast your votes and determine the course of this story.
Guys, please hurry up and vote if you haven't already, as I truly want to begin the next chapter as soon as possible.
After the chapter, I will present to you the results of the voting thus far.
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After returning to Greenery Town, Ray didn't waste a single moment. With Oliver leaning on his shoulder, he headed straight for the town's doctor, his steps quick and steady.
The doctor carefully cleaned Oliver's wounds, his hands steady and precise as he worked. After finishing the treatment, he wrapped the bandages snugly, ensuring every injury was properly taken care of.
Ray let out a quiet breath of relief before stepping forward, placing the payment on the table.
"Thanks, doc… I owe you one," he said with a small nod.
The doctor adjusted his glasses, giving a calm smile. "Make sure he rests. He'll recover soon enough."
Ray turned without wasting another moment, gently helping Oliver to his feet. Supporting him over his shoulder, he stepped out into the lively streets of Greenery Town.
The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the road as Ray made his way toward a nearby inn.
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In the Inn room
Ray leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, a grin stretching across his face as if the world itself amused him. The soft creak of the wooden seat beneath him contrasted to the frown on Oliver's face who sat across of him.
Oliver sat stiffly, his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table, each tap sharper than the last, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
After few moments, Oliver lost his patience and yelled at Ray, "Old man, will you stop looking at me like that?!" Oliver barked, slamming his hand onto the table. The wood cracked slightly under the force. "You told me you'd explain why I turned into a white tiger with wings!"
Ray suddenly burst into loud, laughter, clutching his stomach as if Oliver had just told the greatest joke in the world. His shoulders shook, and his grin stretched wide beneath his scruffy beard, completely unbothered by how frustrated Oliver was..
Oliver's eyebrows began to twitch violently, a vein popping on his forehead as his patience wore dangerously thin. His sharp glare locked onto Ray, practically burning with irritation, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Ray, I am losing patient here come on answer my question damn it!"
After calming down, Ray asked Oliver, "tell me, Oliver…You've eaten a weird-looking fruit, didn't you?"
Oliver's eyes shot wide open, his pupils shrinking as realization hit him like a cannonball. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he stared at Ray in disbelief.
"Y-Yes… I did eat a weird-looking fruit, Ray… but how did you know?!"
Ray didn't answer immediately.
Instead, the old man leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him as a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. His eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Kid… you didn't just eat some 'weird-looking fruit'…"
He leaned forward, his expression sharpening ever so slightly, his voice dropping into something more serious—something heavy.
"You ate a Devil Fruit."
The room seemed to freeze.
Oliver blinked.
Ray nodded, still smirking. "A cursed treasure of the sea. One bite, and you gain powers beyond imagination… but in exchange—"
He paused for dramatic effect, watching Oliver closely.
"—the sea itself rejects you."
Oliver's face turned pale as Ray's explanation sank in. Cold sweat dripped down his temple, his body trembling as if he had just stared into the abyss itself.
He staggered back, pointing a shaky finger at Ray, his voice cracking with panic.
"Y-You've got to be kidding me…!"
His breathing grew erratic, eyes wide with sheer terror as his imagination ran wild.
"Oh my god—I'm cursed now!!" he screamed, clutching his head. "I ate something that belonged to the devil himself! How many days—or hours—do I even have left to live?!"
Ray threw his head back, laughter exploding out of him like a cannon blast.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Kid… you really are something else!"
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still grinning as he leaned forward, his gaze sharp now—serious beneath the humor.
"Relax… you're not dying. Not today, not tomorrow."
A pause. The air shifted.
"But as I said before…"
Ray tapped the ground lightly with his foot.
"From this moment on… the ocean itself will reject you. No matter how hard you struggle…"
He pointed straight at Oliver.
"...you will never be able to swim again."
Oliver's eyes widened when he heard this, but Ray continued, ""The devil fruit type that you ate is one of the rarest among all the devil fruits; it is a mythical Zoan devil fruit, the cat-cat fruit model the winged tiger god."
After hearing his devil fruit name, Oliver asked Ray, "What's so special about this devil fruit?"
Ray smiled when he heard the question and said, "Before I tell you what is so special about this devil fruit, I will need to tell you about the legend behind the winged tiger god."
Oliver raised his eyebrow when he heard this but nodded to Ray.
"Long time ago, there existed a divine beast known as the Winged Tiger God—a creature said to rule both the heavens and the earth."
"It was believed that this god was born at the moment when the sky first split from the land. From the earth, it inherited the strength and ferocity of a tiger—the undisputed king of beasts. From the heavens, it gained radiant wings, said to be forged from clouds and lightning."
"Legends describe it as a colossal white tiger with glowing markings across its body, each line representing a natural force—wind, thunder, and fire."
Oliver raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief creeping into his voice as he scoffed, "Don't tell me you actually believe in that legend, old man. Those kinds of stories are just things people make up to scare kids or pass the time."
Ray chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes as he leaned back.
"You're right—people do tend to exaggerate legends and myths," he said, nodding in agreement. Then his tone shifted, growing a shade more serious.
"But every legend… every myth… is born from a fragment of truth."
He tapped his finger lightly against the table for emphasis.
"Time distorts things. Stories get twisted, details get added or lost… but the core? That rarely comes from nothing."
Ray's gaze locked onto Oliver's, sharp and unwavering.
"Never forget this, Oliver—when the world calls something a legend… it's often because they're afraid of the truth behind it."
Oliver got silent upon hearing this for a moment then he nodded his head.
"You better rest for now, Oliver," Ray said, his voice calm but firm. "My advice is for you to forget about those devil fruit powers you gained—for now."
"Focus on your swordsmanship," he added, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Don't bite more than you can chew, Oliver… because if you do—"
"—you'll end up wasting all that hard work you've put in."
Oliver's eyes shot wide open, the weight of Ray's words hitting him like a crashing wave. For a brief moment, the wild thoughts of his newfound power flickered in his mind—but then, they steadied.
He clenched his fist, his expression sharpening with resolve.
"…You're right, Ray."
"For now… I'll focus only on my swordsmanship."
Ray's lips curled into a calm smile as he slowly rose to his feet. He stretched his back with a faint crack, then glanced over his shoulder at Oliver.
"Heh… I'll go have a word with the receptionist and get you some food," he said casually, waving a hand as he started toward the door. Then his tone sharpened just a little, carrying that familiar weight of experience. "So you better rest up, kid."
"Tomorrow… you're going to assist that old man in building the restaurant." A small grin tugged at his face. "And trust me—you're gonna need a lot of energy for that."
With that, Ray stepped out, leaving Oliver alone in the room.
After Ray left the inn room, Oliver said, "System, I want to claim the Yamamoto swordsmanship notes manual now."
As you wish, host.
"WHISSHH."
Suddenly—
"FWOOSH!"
Out of thin air, as if reality itself had been sliced open, an old-looking book materialized midair before them.
It didn't fall immediately.
No… it hovered.
The book was thick, its brown leather cover cracked and worn as though it had weathered centuries of storms and battles. Faded golden patterns curled along its edges, barely visible beneath layers of age. The pages, slightly ajar, were yellowed and brittle.
Oliver's fingers tightened around the worn edges of the book, the rough texture of the aged cover pressing into his skin as if it carried the weight of countless battles. As he flipped it open, a faint creak echoed—like the whisper of an old warrior recounting forgotten tales.
His eyes scanned the first page.
Then widened.
A spark ignited within them.
"Incredible…" he murmured under his breath, his voice trembling with disbelief. "I never thought swordsmanship could be this deep… I truly underestimated it."
The air around him seemed to grow heavier, as if the very words on the page carried intent. Diagrams of stances, notes on breathing, philosophies of the blade—not just techniques, but a way of life—unfolded before him.
This wasn't just about swinging a sword.
It was about becoming the sword.
Oliver's grip tightened, his knuckles whitening as a grin slowly spread across his face—equal parts excitement and hunger.
"So this is it…" he whispered, his voice now steady, filled with resolve. "The path to true strength."
A faint gust brushed past him, flipping a few pages forward on its own.
Almost as if the book itself was urging him onward.
Oliver continued reading carefully Yamamoto swordsmanship notes manual, memorizing every word in the book and deepening his understanding of swordsmanship.
_____
With Ray
After Ray had ordered some food for Oliver to eat, he booked a private room in Inn's restaurant and sat comfortably on the chair.
The room was simple but comfortable—wooden walls, a sturdy table, and a chair that creaked slightly as Ray dropped himself into it. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, his sharp eyes half-closed as if resting… yet still alert.
After the waitress quietly set the dishes on the table and left, Ray waited until the door clicked shut. The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the private room, but he didn't touch it. Instead, his expression turned uncharacteristically serious.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small, white Den Den Mushi. Unlike the usual ones, this one looked calmer… almost too calm, its tiny eyes half-lidded as if it carried secrets of its own.
Ray placed it gently on the table.
"It is time I call him…" he muttered.
"PURUPURUPURU,"
"GOTCHA,"
"who is it??"
Ray's lips curled into a knowing smirk as the voice echoed through the white Den Den Mushi. His eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of nostalgia and mischief flashing within them.
"Heh… it's been a long time, Dragon."
The white Den Den Mushi froze for a split second, its tiny pupils shrinking before snapping wide open in recognition. A faint static crackled through the line, like the calm before a storm.
Then came the voice—deep, steady, carrying the weight of countless battles and unshaken conviction.
"…Ray."
A pause followed, heavy with unspoken history.
The Den Den Mushi's lips slowly curled into a knowing smirk as Dragon leaned into the receiver, his tone laced with quiet amusement and something sharper beneath.
"Well, if it isn't you."
A soft chuckle escaped him, low and deliberate.
"I was beginning to wonder if you had disappeared into obscurity… or simply lost your way."
The air seemed to tighten as his voice grew firmer, carrying an edge that could cut steel.
"Tell me, Ray…"
A brief silence—just enough to make the question land harder.
"Have you finally regained your pride… and your justice?"
Ray let out a low chuckle, the kind that carried both weight and weariness, before lifting his gaze slightly.
"Yeah… you were right, Dragon," he admitted, his voice calm but laced with something deeper. "Back then, I did lose—my pride… my sense of justice."
For a brief moment, the usual confidence in his tone faded, replaced by a quiet honesty.
"But if it weren't for my son…" he continued, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his lips, "I'd still be wandering in the dark, chasing ghosts of who I used to be."
His eyes sharpened again, a familiar fire returning as he leaned back.
"He dragged me back from that abyss… reminded me what it means to stand tall. So yeah—" Ray exhaled lightly, almost amused at himself, "I owe that kid more than I'll ever admit out loud."
The Den Den Mushi's eyes bulged dramatically, its tiny mouth stretching wide in perfect sync with Dragon's shock. A bead of sweat rolled down its cheek as it mimicked his disbelief.
"YOU HAVE A SON?!" Dragon roared, his voice echoing through the transponder snail, laced with pure astonishment. "Since when did you become the kind of man to settle down, Ray?!"
Ray's eyebrow twitched slightly as he listened to Dragon, then he let out a short scoff.
"He is my adopted son," Ray said firmly, his tone steady. "And besides… it's not complicated if I ever wanted a biological son. I can simply have sex with a woman."
The Den Den Mushi on the table blinked silently, as if even it was processing the blunt confidence in his words, while Ray remained unfazed, arms crossed and expression calm.
Dragon coughed nervously after hearing Ray's words and asked, "So why did you call me, Ray?"
After hearing Dragon's question, Ray responded seriously, saying, "I will not go into details." When I was training my son in the forest, he accidentally awakened Conqueror Haki during a battle against fifty Berserk monkeys. I was concerned that his inability to control his conqueror, Haki, might cause harm to those around him, given that he is only a 7-year-old boy, Dragon."
The Den Den mushi eyes widened when he heard this, and Ray continued, "You are a user of the conqueror haki Dragon; my request from you is to help my son control his conqueror haki."
Dragon was quiet for a few seconds then said to Ray, "Before I make my final decision, answer me this question: Ray, is your son's conqueror Haki leaking out of him uncontrollably all the time?"
Ray thought of Dragon's question for a few seconds, then answered, "No, why are you asking this question, Dragon?"
After hearing Ray's question, Dragon answered, "To identify if your son is a danger to the people around him, Ray, your son is not a danger to the people around him right now, and I advise you to not tell your son that he awakened conqueror Haki, yet he is too young; he may grow arrogant if you tell him."
Ray widened his eyes in realization when he heard this and nodded his head in agreement.
Dragon then asked Ray, "Ray I really need you to join me. You have witnessed how corrupt the world government and the Navy are. I am confident that with your support, we will have a chance to overthrow the world government."
Ray smiled when he heard this and said, "I accept your invitation, Dragon, but right now I can't join. I need to take care of my son." When my son is strong enough to take care of himself, then I will join you."
The Den Den Mushi smirked when Ray said those words and said, "Good to hear these words from you, partner; I'm really interested in seeing your son." If you need anything in the future, let me know, Ray."
Ray smiled, and he hung up the call, "GOTCHA."
______
Six months had passed
Six months had passed since Oliver awakened his conqueror Haki and ate his devil fruit every day. Oliver woke up early in the morning, had his breakfast, and practiced his sword stances and swings 1000 times.
After Oliver finishes training, he will join the old man and help him build the restaurant.
After helping the old man, Oliver will go to the forest and train his swordsmanship with Ray.
Before finishing for the day, Oliver will venture to the forest and fight every animal he encounters using only his training sword.
Oliver's physical strength and speed were improving at incredible speed, thanks to all the training he had done till now and the advantages he gained from being a wielder of the innate strength physique.
Also, Oliver's swordsmanship was improving at an alarming rate because of his heaven rank swordsmanship talent, his high analytical and observation talent, and his copycat talent.
Ray was very jealous of Oliver's swordsmanship talent, but at the same time he was unbelievably proud of him.
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One month later
Ray smiled when he saw the restaurant building in front of him and asked Oliver, "So kid, do you have any good names? After all, we need to give this restaurant a name."
Oliver considered a name for the restaurant, then smiled and said, "Generous Hand Restaurant."
Ray raised his eyebrows in confusion, asking, "Why did you choose this name, kid?" It sounds way too weird."
Oliver gazed at Ray with a gentle smile on his face and said to him. "You were the one who took me in when the orphanage kicked me out, Ray; you not only started teaching me how to become a swordsman, but you also started teaching me how to cook and be a man. I know better than anyone what it is like to starve. We need to help people who are starving, Ray."
Ray raised his eyebrows when he heard this; his eyes began to moisten. He then burst into laughter and said, "HAHAHA, that's my boy. You are right, son. The restaurant's main purpose is helping those in need, but you will have to work hard and learn a lot of things, so be prepared, kid."
Oliver smiled, and he followed Ray into their new restaurant, Generous Hand Restaurant.
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Aright guys I hope you enjoyed this Chapter
The voting results thus far, please don't forget to vote the vote poll is still open
1. Oliver, same generation of Shanks and Hawkeye he create his own crew.
(9 votes)
2. Oliver joins revolutionary army (2 votes)
3. Oliver, part of worst generation, create his own crew
(12 votes)
4. Oliver joins STH (3 votes)
5. Oliver, first mate of Law (6 votes)
6. Oliver, first mate of Hawkeye