The bounty hunters and pirates clashing across Whiskey Peak didn't notice that Karoo, the loyal Super Spot-Billed Duck, was weaving through the battlefield with surprising determination and precision.
The fierce skirmishes between women and hardened men were but fragments of the larger chaos engulfing the town. With every pirate capable of entering the Grand Line through the Reverse Mountain, these were no greenhorns—they had grit. Even if some were tricked and sedated by the bounty hunters' feasts and wine, the moment life and death were on the line, their latent strength would erupt. Under the pale gleam of moonlight, with mist curling along the streets, even the weakest of them gave one last desperate resistance.
Karoo, wearing his signature blue-striped cotton hat, dashed with explosive speed. Despite being no more than 1.5 meters tall, his two powerful legs carried him like a streak of yellow lightning—racing east to west, north to south. Bounty hunters barely batted an eye at the sight. After all, Karoo was Princess Vivi's mount and part of the elite Super Spot-Billed Duck Squad. Pirates, however, were too embroiled in their survival to pay him any heed.
His expressions were unnervingly human-like. When swords clashed, Karoo visibly flinched. When gunfire erupted, his eyes bulged in alarm. He weaved through the chaos in a desperate dash, occasionally letting out a silent scream, eyes brimming with unshed tears—but never once slowing down.
From above, the battlefield's dynamics were evident: bounty hunters held the clear advantage; pirates, though brave, were rapidly being overwhelmed. In the middle of it all, a lone duck zigzagged expertly through the chaos.
But Karoo wasn't running at random. If one traced his path, it formed a meticulous pattern—never once retracing a step. Like a golden blur, he would appear during the climax of each skirmish, scoop up something with his beak or tucked wing, and dash off with a mix of urgency and exaggerated theatrical panic.
By four hours before dawn, every pirate who had arrived at Whiskey Peak lay defeated.
Captains, first mates, boatswains, gunners, even cabin boys—all were neutralized, collapsed amidst the ruins.
Princess Vivi, Mr. 8 (Ikalem), and the rest of the Baroque Works-affiliated bounty hunters gathered in a circle. They began their traditional distribution of spoils, guided by Baroque Works' ruthless efficiency.
All items bought by the pirates from the "Prince's Magical and Rare Items Store" were cataloged and stored. When the next batch of pirates arrived, the stock would appear untouched, preserving the trap's illusion.
Loot from the pirate crews was sorted with military precision—swords, rifles, Beli coins, and even their ships. Everything valuable was officially turned over to the Baroque Works headquarters per protocol.
Unofficially, of course, bounty hunters kept what they could smuggle. After all, who in the Grand Line was truly noble? Even Vivi quietly pocketed 150,000 Beli before submitting her report. A 20%–30% discrepancy was standard—even Crocodile wouldn't blink. If the Five Elders themselves descended upon Whiskey Peak, would it change anything?
Only the pirate ships posed a logistical issue. Their size made them impossible to hide. Cutting out planks in the dead of night wouldn't fool anyone. Those had to be turned in completely.
The corpses were sorted. Bounty-worthy bodies were kept for proof. The rest were burned, and their ashes respectfully buried atop Whiskey Peak.
Surviving pirates were rounded up and personally taken in by Vivi. Not out of mercy—but to force them into games that tested her newly acquired abilities. She treated it like an RPG training ground: harvesting stat points while farming achievements. If Karoo got a "Yum Yum Achievement" for pecking them during dodge drills, even better.
In another universe, such behavior might seem insane. But in the One Piece world? Torture disguised as games, grave-robbing, turning people into stat-givers—it was all standard fare. Just ask Doflamingo.
Killing, looting, burning, cleaning up—the bounty hunters of Whiskey Peak executed all of it with practiced ease. Within an hour of the fighting ending, the pirates had been sorted, documented, or disposed of.
As dawn approached, they sheathed their swords and returned to their blood-splattered homes. In silence, they awaited the next wave of prey.
...
The sudden influx of pirates caused Vivi's stats to soar. But absorbing those skills required real training.
So she secluded herself on the other side of town with Mr. 8, beginning her crash course in real combat.
She had picked up numerous techniques through battle and observation. Now, she needed to transform them into muscle memory.
In the dense woods beyond Whiskey Peak, two figures raced—nimble and fast like shinobi. Vivi darted ahead, occasionally checking her surroundings, her instincts alert but… aimless. Her running pattern made no sense.
She moved with grace—flowing aqua hair trailing behind her like a streamer, face taut with focus, eyes locked on some imaginary enemy.
Then, a coughing fit shattered the silence.
Ikalem, the ever-comedic former royal guard with his ludicrous hair rolls, stood a full ninety degrees to Vivi's left. He wheezed and pointed in exaggerated disbelief.
"Your Highness! That way—you call that west? I'm facing west! Cough, numma-ma-ma—"
Vivi halted, eyes blank, then sheepishly scratched her head and jabbed a finger forward.
"Then... that must be south, right?"
Ikalem sighed and facepalmed so hard you could hear it.
"Princess Vivi… that's north. We came from that way tonight, remember?"
She froze, stunned for a moment, before groaning and slumping. How had she become a top-tier operative in her world, only to get isekai'd as a hopeless directionally-challenged idiot?
Nothing from her past life helped. The stars didn't follow expected patterns. Trees didn't indicate south. Snow didn't melt first on any consistent side. Her internal compass was fried.
Ikalem, ever patient, had decades of experience. He factored in rivers, ridgelines, wind patterns, even moss orientation, to determine direction. His instincts were on par with Grand Line navigators.
In this world, those born on islands like Sri Lanka—or raised like Nami—could navigate intuitively. Marines and veteran pirates had seasoned navigators. Luffy and Zoro were the exceptions, moving through the world with chaotic luck and zero direction sense.
But for rookies like Vivi? It was like being blind.
The Grand Line was insane. Weather changed in an instant. Magnetism didn't follow logic. Currents defied physics. Even the "North" couldn't be assumed to exist.
Vivi adapted quickly to customs, language, and combat. But geography? That was her bane.
She sighed deeply.
"Honestly…" she muttered. "This world's rules are broken."
And in that one thought, she wasn't wrong.