I woke up with a faint buzz humming through my bones, a leftover tingle from the sensu bean patching me up overnight. Sunlight slipped through the shack's patched roof—steel plates catching the glare, throwing sharp reflections that danced jagged on the warped wooden walls.
My stomach didn't claw at me for once—no sharp twist of hunger digging into my gut. My head felt clear, steady, like a thick fog had burned off and left me sharp. I rolled out of bed, boots hitting the floor with a dull thud.
The frame creaked under me, a low whine from the patched planks straining against my weight. I stretched slow—joints popping loud in the quiet, a crackling ripple down my arms and back—and sniffed the air deep. Damp earth and sea salt slammed into my nose, a cool draft sneaking past the braced walls, brushing my bare skin with a chill that prickled.
I flicked on the system with a thought, blue text hovering crisp in my vision, glowing faint against the sunlit room:
Stats:
Strength: 7/100 (E)
Sense: 7/100 (E)
Endurance: 12/100 (E)
Charisma: 7/100 (E)
Intelligence: 7/100 (E)
Agility: 7/100 (E)
Luck: 10/100 (E)
Points: 0
Abilities: Telekinesis (Basic)
Absorption: Batman (14%)
Quest Log:
Daily Objective:
Foundation of Strength
Reward: 20 stat points
Inventory:
Tech Tokens 20x
Fourteen percent absorption—yesterday must have pushed it up. My head felt sharper, eyes snagging on details I'd missed before: a splinter jutting out from the bedframe like a tiny dagger, a faint crack spidering across the steel patch overhead, glinting in the light. I flexed my arms, feeling the pull of muscle under my skin—not much, but enough to notice the difference from that weak, shaky mess I'd woken up in.
I tapped Gacha Shop. Loot scrolled across the screen:
Epic Rolls:
• "Portable Workbench"
• "Steel Mesh"
• "Audio Recorder"
• "Kinetic Glove"
• Common Rolls:
• "Wooden Mallet"
• "Tin Bucket"
• "Rope Coil"
• "Glass Jar"
The Portable Workbench unfolded in my hands—metal, scratched deep from use, but sturdy as hell, edges cold under my fingers. Slots for tools snapped into place with a satisfying click, a sharp sound that echoed in the shack.Unrolling the Steel Mesh—10x10 feet, flexible, glinting like fish scales in the dim light filtering through the roof, a faint shimmer as I turned it. The Audio Recorder fit my palm—black, smooth as glass, a faint hum buzzing when I clicked it on, vibrating soft against my skin. The Kinetic Glove slid over my hand and i felt like my grip could crush stone.
I flipped the trapdoor open with a slow creak, hinges groaning like they hated the effort. The pit's damp smell wafted up—cool, earthy, clinging heavy to my lungs.
The Arc Reactor's blue glow flickered low, barely cutting through the shadows pooling on the muddy walls. "I need to finish this today" I thought, squinting down into the dark, my breath fogging faint in the chill. I hauled the workbench down the ladder—telekinesis steadying it as I climbed, I set it against a dirt wall, legs sinking an inch into the soft, wet ground, mud squishing under my boots. I stretched the steel mesh over the ceiling—pulled it taut until my arms burned, nailed it with the mallet and steel nails from yesterday's stash.
The hammer's thud rang sharp in the tight space, each hit vibrating up my wrist, a steady beat—tight, no collapse now. I coiled the rope around the Arc Reactor—rough fibers biting into my palms, leaving red marks as I tied it off, knots sloppy but strong. I hung it center-pit—blue light spread wider, washing the muddy walls in a cold glow, throwing my shadow long and jagged behind me. Back up top, I patched the shack's last roof gaps with leftover wood—splinters pricking my fingers, stinging sharp as I hammered them flush—then braced the door with a steel plate, pounding it snug until the frame stopped rattling loose. "All right that should be secure enough." I muttered, stepping back, wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.
My stomach rumbled, softer than before but still nagging at me, a dull ache creeping under my ribs. "Damn three days deep, and I still haven't eaten anything," I thought, frowning, pressing a hand to my gut. "Just fumes and that bean keeping me going, you know what, I need to slow down," I decided, straightening up. I reached for my Plasma Pistol and grabbed the tin bucket, rust flaking onto my fingers as I gripped it tight.
I paused, staring at the glowing barrel, my jaw tightening as the reality hit me hard. "If I introduced something this advanced, shit could easily go sideways, I've gotta find somewhere private to fish so no one catches a glimpse and starts asking questions I can't answer."
I slipped out the shack, boots crunching on the dry dirt outside, sticking to the shadows of the leaning houses. The docks hummed in the distance but I veered off toward a rocky cove, tucked behind a jagged cliff. Waves slapped against stone, a low rumble vibrating through my boots. Gulls screeched overhead, their cries bouncing sharp off the rocks, cutting through the wind tugging at my shirt.
I crouched low behind a boulder, bucket beside me. "Gotta make this quick," ,aiming the pistol at the shallows, my finger hovering over the trigger. A blue bolt hissed out—sharp, electric, slicing the air with a crackle that made my ears ring a bit. Water splashed hard, rippling out in messy circles. Three fish bobbed up—heads pierced clean through, scales glinting wet in the sun, blood clouding the water in thin red swirls. I scooped them into the bucket—slimy, cold, their tails flopping weak against the tin, scales sticking to my fingers like wet glue.
A coconut tree loomed nearby—gnarled trunk twisting up, fronds swaying heavy in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the rocks. I climbed it with the Kinetic Glove—its hum kicked in, boosting my grip as I hauled myself up, leather creaking against the rough bark. I reached the top, my breath puffing out in short bursts. I cracked two coconuts open with the mallet—wood thudding hard against shell, a dull whack that split them clean. Sweet water splashed my face, dripping down my chin.
The pulp chewed tough but good—gritty, earthy, sticking to my teeth as I tore into it, drowning out the fish taste. I sat there a minute, bucket balanced beside me on the branch, licking the juice off my fingers slow, the sea breeze cooling the sweat beading on my neck.
After enjoying my first meal in this world, I wandered back toward the village, I kept to the edges—sticking to the shadows of wooden houses, watching fishermen haul nets dripping with seaweed, kids kick dirt clumps down the lanes, dust puffing around their bare feet. "They barely even look at me," I thought, squinting against the sun glaring off the water. "Old Usopp was a loudmouth, a liar—everyone knew that idiot, probably laughed at him every day." "Now?" I wondered, catching a few glances—puzzled looks, brows creasing like they couldn't place me—then they moved on like I was a stranger.
Then I paused, smacking my head in realization I've been grinding for Three days, and I haven't once checked what I look like." I thought,I walked back to my newly renovated shack, and picked up the chipped. Just to see that my nose which was still long,was now shorter, less ridiculous, not jutting out like a damn cartoon beak. My height were I was previously 5'2, maybe 5'4 when I came here, Now? I stood taller—5'7, easy, shoulders broader, straighter, legs filling out my pants more. My arms weren't sticks anymore they were now more lean, and my veins popped faintly when I clenched a fist.
"Old Usopp was a 3 out of 10," , smirking at the glass, my reflection smirking back, sharper than before. "Currently? Maybe a 4 now," I figured, tilting my head. "Not hot, not even close, but better—sharper jaw, less gangly, eyes harder, like I've seen some shit."
Then I was hit with another realization.
"These stats, They're changing me." I wondered, my mind racing. "What happens at 20 Strength?, 50?, Past E-rank? How far can i go, I've gotta grind harder," I decided, clenching both fists until my knuckles whitened.
Back outside, I poked around the docks—fish stalls lined up, nets drying stiff in the sun, the air thick with salt and rotting brine.
A fisherman haggled with a woman—bronze coins clinked in his rough palm, glinting dull under the light. "Berries," I muttered, piecing it together from One Piece lore buried in my head. "That's the currency here—I've gotta figure out how it works." I traded a fish from my bucket—50 berries, he said, tossing me a small stack that rattled in my hand, edges worn smooth. "50 berries for 1 fish," I thought, weighing the coins in my palm. "Tools might run 200, 300?, I'll nail it down later—watch the trades, learn the rates."
A gruff voice cut through the dock chatter—some guy at a stall, yelling loud enough to turn heads, his face red with anger. "Bandits hit my cart again—three of 'em, up the hill!" The system chimed, text flashing bright in my vision:
Side Quest:
Clear the Hill Bandits
Defeat 3 bandits harassing villagers.
Reward:
50 EXP
5 Tech Tokens
Another popped up—a kid whining by the water, tugging his dad's sleeve, snot streaking his grubby face. "Daddy i lost my net near the cliffs!"
Side Quest:
Retrieve the Fisher's Net
Find and return the lost net near the cliffs.
Reward:
20 EXP
2 Tech Tokens
"EXP ," I thought, grinning wide, coins clinking as I shifted my weight. "Level-ups mean free points and free points means I get stronger faster" So, I hit the hill first and what waited at the top were three scruffy punks, clubs gripped tight in their hands, sneers twisting their sunburned faces, teeth yellowed and jagged under the sun. The Kinetic Glove hummed on my fist, a low buzz vibrating up my arm. I dodged a wild swing and cracked a jaw with a boosted punch, bone crunching loud under my knuckles, blood flecking my glove as the guy's grunt cut off sharp.
Telekinesis flicked dirt into the second's face—he cursed loud, stumbling blind, hands clawing at his eyes as he tripped over a rock. The third bolted, legs pumping hard—I aimed the pistol low, blue bolt grazing his calf with a sizzle, flesh smoking faint as he hit the ground rolling, yelping in the dust. "Stay down," I growled, voice rough and low, rifling their pockets—200 berries spilled out, bronze coins clinking on the rocks.
The net was easier—tangled in rocks by the cliffs, waves crashing close enough to soak my boots, spraying salt water up my legs. I hauled it back—damp and heavy, sand gritting under my soles, the rough weave scraping my palms raw as I dragged it. The kid thanked me still sniffling and crying as the System chimed again, sharp and clear in my head:
Level Up!
Level Up!
Level 1 → Level 3
EXP: 0/150
Reward: 15 Stat Points, 7Tech Tokens
"Fifteen points," I thought, pumping a fist, adrenaline still buzzing hot in my veins like a live wire. "Seven tokens—sweet haul." I dumped 5 into Strength because more power, means more muscle. Five into Endurance since i can't afford to gas out, and Five into Agility:
Stats Updated:
Strength: 12/100 (E)
Endurance: 17/100 (E)
Agility: 12/100 (E)
Luck: 10/100 (E)
Sense: 7/100 (E)
Charisma: 7/100 (E)
Intelligence: 7/100 (E)
"With this kind of growth I've got to start leaving the shack more often"