"Woooooooooooooooooooo…"
"Whee..."
"Hehe, hehe, hehe…"
Laughter echoed intermittently through the night, and a heavy sigh nearly formed the word "Well" on the forehead of Vivi. Her ability to "hear the voice of all things" had proven to be more of a nuisance than a gift.
The whispers of the rivers, murmurs of trees, and echoes of stones didn't reach her ears like normal sound. Instead, they drilled directly into her mind—unfiltered, loud, and disjointed. The line between her own thoughts and the intrusions from nature blurred more often than not.
What was the use of this power? It hadn't yet lived up to its legendary potential.
It wasn't some omnipotent plug-in system with a narrator's voice whispering precise instructions or insightful commentary. These "voices" were chaotic, mischievous, and often contradictory. One would urge her to turn left, another to go right—and once she followed their conflicting directions and ended up lost, they simply mocked her. Maybe 10% of her sense of direction problem was her own fault, 30% was due to the environment, and the remaining 60% was thanks to these meddling entities laughing at her missteps.
After the seventh time of taking the wrong path in a single session, Vivi sighed and admitted defeat for the night. "Alright, that's enough. Let's go back and rest," she waved wearily.
…
Over the past month, three pirate groups had come into the range of Whiskey Peak's bounty hunters.
The first two crews had been captured. The third, however, was far more intimidating—over ten ships, with a total headcount exceeding five hundred. A pirate fleet of that scale was beyond the bounty hunters' capacity, who numbered just over a hundred. Even if they tried to mount a defense, the odds of the enemy harboring Devil Fruit users were high. Although rare in the general population, Devil Fruit powers were more common in dangerous seas like the Grand Line.
Mr. 8, Mr. 9, and Miss Monday were busy throughout each day, often working well into the night. Vivi's month had been packed. Her directional issues remained unsolved, but her swordsmanship had progressed smoothly. She had reached level 4 (3/1000) in sword mastery. Unlike flashy upgrades in games, it was a steady and unseen grind.
In her previous life on Earth, swordsmanship was all about technique, balance, and precision. But in the world of One Piece, swordsmanship leaned heavily toward raw power. All the finesse in the world didn't matter if you couldn't split a cliff in half.
Just look at Zoro—his fighting style didn't rely on deception or reading opponents. Swordsmen like him advanced through sheer strength, slicing through obstacles with overwhelming force. A slash wasn't an invitation—it was an execution.
Weiwei's experience mirrored that philosophy. Every time she honed a combat-related skill, her strength, speed, and stamina ticked upward. She didn't meditate on the meaning of swordplay or ponder philosophical concepts. Her approach was brutally simple: "If I cut you with this sword, you die."
Her physical growth was undeniable. Compared to when she had first arrived in this world, she now felt capable of overpowering that former self with ease.
Between self-assessment and the guidance of the ever-loyal Igaram, she estimated that her swordsmanship had reached an advanced level—on par with elite royal guards or national army captains from the smaller nations scattered along the Grand Line. If she had to compare, she was close to Zoro's strength when he first left the East Blue.
Karoo, her trusty duck, had just completed a 100-match winning streak in sparring with pirate prisoners—a feat that earned him a +1 boost to agility.
Unlike her, Karoo had a simplified status interface, and his agility stat visibly jumped from 2 to 3. Now, when he sprinted, he left afterimages. Vivi tried chasing him at full speed once but couldn't keep up in a straight line.
The 100-win streak wasn't the end—there was even a mysterious 1,000-win milestone lurking ahead. But the 30+ pirates locked in the cells were growing desperate. Vivi didn't enforce the sparring with cruelty, though—if anyone wanted out, she didn't stop them. This was training, not torture.
She even invented pinball and tug-of-war games for Karoo, but the irritatingly unresponsive system ignored the ten-win streaks from those. So, it was back to brawling for stat boosts.
…
Rain began to fall over Whiskey Peak in the dead of night, washing away the faint stains of blood that clung to the docks.
Storm clouds loomed thick overhead, and the rain tapped against the world like invisible fingers drumming insistently on every surface. Trees bent under the weight of it, branches sagging lower and lower without resistance. They seemed to bow before the unyielding power of nature.
Three days earlier, the harvest had been paltry. But now, at long last, another pirate ship drifted into their trap.
Seventeen pirates had been onboard. Nineteen of them—yes, nineteen somehow—were confirmed dead on arrival. The math made no sense, but that's how chaotic these encounters could be. The remaining eight, terrified and broken, had quietly joined the ever-growing list of sparring partners for Karoo.
Vivi was inspecting her finances when Igaram, her loyal retainer, approached discreetly. "Your High—ah, I mean, Miss Wednesday. There's been an update. It seems the pirates we fought three days ago were… sensitive targets. HQ has issued new orders."
At the moment, she and Karoo were calculating their assets. Baroque Works' goal was to dismantle her kingdom from within, and Vivi needed resources to fight that tide.
Over the month, her wealth had grown from a meager 500,000 Berries to over 7 million. With just another 3 million, she could theoretically purchase a Grade 21 named sword—one of the well-forged but still accessible famous blades.
Pirates were evil, sure, but bounty hunters weren't saints. Many lined their pockets shamelessly. Were it not for the limitations on influence and firepower, Vivi would have swallowed all the spoils for herself. But discretion was necessary.
From the look on Igaram's face, they might've accidentally eliminated someone important—perhaps a pirate protected by intelligence interests or used as bait for other organizations. Vivi shrugged. If trouble was coming, she'd deal with it then. She had no delusions of justice—just survival and results.
She attended the emergency meeting with a carefree demeanor. Mr. 9, passionate as ever, and the hulking Miss Monday were already waiting. Shortly after she arrived, the group's senior-most member—Mr. 8, Igaram—pulled out a den-den mushi.
The den-den mushi, a type of living transceiver snail, remained dormant until activated. Once online, it mimicked the expressions and tone of the caller on the other end.
As Igaram accepted the transmission, a sharp female voice crackled through.
Vivi only needed a few seconds to recognize the speaker—it was the Vice-President of Baroque Works, the infamous "Devil's Child" Nico Robin. With a bounty of 79 million Berries, she was a legend of the underworld.
At this point in time, Robin hadn't joined the Straw Hats. There were no jokes, no casual banter. Her voice was cold, clipped, and methodical.
She delivered the order with the severity of a military directive. No room for doubt. A new mission was being deployed.