One Piece: Blood Clan

East Blue.

A military ship, its figurehead fashioned into a colossal dog's head, cut through the waves at breakneck speed.

"Bogart, how is that kid doing now?" asked Garp, his tone curious.

"Vice Admiral Garp, it seems the child has cried himself tired—he's now asleep," Bogart replied.

"Sleeping, is it? That's good."

Garp exhaled in relief.

Even with his rough nerves, Garp wouldn't have beaten the poor lad into silence simply because he'd been crying incessantly. After all, the child had just lost his parents and gone from a carefree noble youth to a forlorn orphan.

In moments of sorrow, he deserved the right to weep—so long as he didn't make too much of a fuss, Garp wouldn't intervene.

Inside a modest room, a pale little boy slowly opened his eyes.

Confusion swirled in his bright gaze as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? Weren't I just burning the midnight oil on my latest draft? What… did I really cross over? His thoughts raced: Did I suddenly die?

Before he could process the shock, a searing, needle-like pain lanced through his head. Memories not his own—memories of the original protagonist—flooded in unbidden. After what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided, leaving him with the full inheritance of those memories. Staring blankly, he couldn't help but curse under his breath, "Damn it!"

These recollections were disturbingly familiar. His new life was mirroring the very setup he had once penned. And the protagonist's name… it was exactly the same:

Ikano B. Bors.

Glancing at his abilities, Burs realized with a mix of awe and disbelief that he had indeed crossed into the world of his own creation. The absurdity of it all overwhelmed him—the world is downright insane.

Yet, after a deep breath, he managed to steady himself. He had only ever written the beginning of the story; the rest of the plot was unwritten. And since his tales always ended on a hopeful note, he figured that the outcome wouldn't be all that dire.

Moreover, he had no desire to make life harder for his character—he hadn't burdened him with a calamitous start, and he'd even equipped him with a system to ease the transition.

With resolve, he activated the system interface that now floated before his eyes:

  Name: Ikano B. Bors

  Age: 6

  Race: Low-Level Vampire

  Level: 4 (47%)

  Dao Power: 15 (an ordinary Marine soldier rates at 10)

  Armament Haki: Locked

  Observation Haki: Level 1

  Conqueror's Haki: Locked

  Skills:

  • Blood Sucking: By drinking blood, one can boost strength, rapidly heal injuries—even regenerating severed limbs. Prolonged abstinence leads to a loss of power, while the potency of the effect scales with the donor's strength.

  • Innate Observation Haki: Naturally possesses the ability to sense and react.

  • Low-Level Vampire: Vampires inherently surpass ordinary humans; once matured, they're twenty times stronger than regular soldiers. At level 10, they evolve into mid-level vampires.

  • Curse of the Night: At night, his attributes receive a slight boost; in daylight, they suffer a notable decline.

  • Night Vision: No loss of sight comes with darkness.

  • Basic Swordsmanship: (3750/10000) — enhances sword skills by 20%.

  Mission:

  • Novice Quest: Achieve your first evolution by reaching level 10. Completion rewards include a Small Blood Packet and the Blood Ring.

Satisfaction flickered across Bors's face. Everything was exactly as he had designed. He stepped over to a mirror and examined himself closely. The reflection revealed a young boy with almost sickly, pallid skin—a shade so unnaturally white it spoke of ill health. It was the look of a vampire, and admittedly, a rather frightening one at that. Yet, he knew that as he evolved, his complexion would gain a healthier, more appealing tone.

His striking red eyes shone like rubies, complemented by a dainty, upturned nose and a mop of short black hair. A small mouth revealed two barely visible fangs, giving him the mischievous look of a little devil. Though unnerving at first glance, he was in control; his fangs could retract at will.

"Not too bad," he mused coolly. "I may not be as handsome as I truly am, but with evolution, I'm bound to at least capture half of my real charm—and that should be enough to command the respect of the entire pirate world."

A knock at the door pulled him from his reverie. "Are you awake, Bors?" came a familiar voice. It was Bogart, Garp's subordinate, who had heard the commotion and assumed the child was finally up.

"I'm awake, Uncle Bogart," Bors answered cheerfully.

"Then I'll come in," Bogart announced. Entering the room, he saw Burs seated quietly before the mirror—no more wailing than before—and he exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Are you hungry?" Bogart asked.

"A bit," Burs admitted.

"Alright, I'll fetch you something to eat."

"Okay," Burs replied.

"By the way, there are some of Garp's donuts in the drawer. I'm preparing the meal, so help yourself to a donut in the meantime."

With that, Bogart left the room. Burs peered at the half-open drawer, stood on tiptoe, and discovered a stash of donuts tucked away. In his system's design, even vampires could indulge in human food—though without any special bonuses. The sweet aroma of the donuts wafted over, and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, his hunger deepened.

A soft creak heralded another entrance. This time, however, the newcomer was not Bogart.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing eating my donut?" a voice scolded.

"Because I'm hungry," Burs replied nonchalantly.

The speaker, a young Marine clad in a weathered dog-skin jacket, eyed him coolly. Burs instantly recognized him—and inside, his heart leaped with a secret thrill.

"Is it good?" the Marine asked.

"Really good," Burs answered, offering him a piece.

"Hand some over. I want a taste too."

"Sure thing," Burs agreed, and the two shared the treat in companionable silence.

At the doorway, Bogart—balancing a plate of fish—watched the scene with a quiet smile before stepping back. Even Garp, usually so gruff, displayed an unexpectedly tender side. Bogart couldn't help but feel moved.

Garp murmured to himself, "There's nothing like a good donut."

Moments later, the Marine piped up again, "Another one for me, please!"

"Sorry, it's all gone," Burs replied, glancing down at the empty drawer.

"Really? Well, that's too bad. By the way, you're called Burs, right?" Garp inquired.

"Yeah, what's the matter?" Burs answered, curiosity piqued.

Garp leaned in, his voice thoughtful. "What are your plans? Do you intend to return home, or do you see yourself joining the Marines? I heard your father taught you some swordsmanship—and you've got talent. With my recommendation, you could receive special training."

The notion of becoming a Marine stirred Burs's thoughts. The idea was tempting; after all, joining the Marines under Garp's wing might mean learning advanced techniques—perhaps even unlocking the secrets of the Six Powers—and receiving mentorship from some of the best fighters around. Yet, as a vampire, the practicalities of sustaining his blood supply within the rigid structure of the Navy were less than ideal.

After a long pause, Bors shook his head. "No, Mr. Garp. I don't think joining the Marines is for me right now."

Garp's eyes held a note of regret. "Is that so? That's a pity. I can tell you're a promising kid—I only hope you won't end up on the wrong side someday."