OP: Sovereign of Blood and Seas

Eric woke with a start, the system's cold, mechanical voice ripping him from a fitful sleep.

"Host has been inactive for 8 hours. Recommend immediate action to progress."

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his temples. "Good morning to you too," he muttered. The fire he'd managed to build last night had long since died out, leaving only smoldering embers.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of dawn, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of unease that had settled over him. The jungle was eerily quiet, the usual symphony of rustling leaves and distant animal cries replaced by a heavy silence.

"Something's wrong," he muttered, gripping the dagger at his side.

The system chimed again, this time with a display of Eric's stats and abilities.

Name: Eric (Unnamed by others)

Level: 2

Abilities:

Blood Puppeteer (Tier 1) – Control targets with exposed wounds. Limited by Bloodline Control. Blood Absorption (Passive) – Replenishes vitality and strength through consumption of blood. Enhanced Reflexes (Passive) – Accelerated reactions in combat. Minor Regeneration (Passive) – Heals minor wounds over time.

He skimmed the display quickly, then waved it away. His abilities were impressive, but they weren't enough. Not yet.

"System, what's the next step?" he asked aloud, unsure if he was growing used to talking to a voice in his head.

"Quest Reminder: Forge Your Path. Establish Your Presence in East Blue. Reward: Unique Skill."

"Right. Because that's so specific." Eric sighed.

The system didn't respond, of course. It never did when he wanted a real conversation. Still, the words lingered in his mind. Establish his presence in East Blue. That meant getting off this island, finding people—pirates, merchants, someone—and starting to build a foundation.

But first, he needed information.

Eric retrieved the map from his satchel and spread it out on the ground. The crude parchment depicted a series of small islands scattered across the East Blue. Daggerhead Atoll was marked near the lower edge, but there was no indication of how far it was from any major settlements or trade routes.

"I need a boat," he muttered.

The thought of leaving the island brought an unexpected pang of anxiety. It was dangerous here, but it was also… simple. Out there, he'd face other humans, people with ambitions, alliances, and grudges. His abilities might give him an edge, but he wasn't invincible.

Still, there was no choice. The hunger inside him wasn't just a physical craving—it was ambition, raw and insatiable.

The first part of his plan was to scout the island thoroughly. He hadn't explored much beyond the immediate area around the beach and the stream. If there were resources—or better yet, people—he needed to find them.

Eric set off into the jungle, moving cautiously but with purpose. The terrain was rough, the thick undergrowth slowing his progress. Every sound made him tense, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger.

After an hour of trekking, he found himself standing at the edge of a wide clearing. In the center was a crude campsite—half a dozen tents arranged in a loose circle around a smoldering fire pit.

"Finally," he whispered, a mix of relief and apprehension washing over him.

Eric crouched low, studying the camp. It was quiet, no signs of movement, but the state of the fire suggested whoever was here hadn't gone far.

The system chimed softly.

"Potential Threats Detected. Scanning…"

A new screen appeared, displaying a list of targets:

Human (Male, Level 3) Human (Female, Level 2) Human (Male, Level 4)

Eric frowned. He couldn't see anyone, but the system's scan didn't lie. Whoever these people were, they were stronger than the wild animals he'd faced so far. And humans were unpredictable.

He crept closer, keeping to the shadows. As he neared the edge of the clearing, he caught sight of movement—two figures emerging from the jungle, each carrying a bundle of firewood.

The first was a burly man with a thick beard and a scar running down his left cheek. He wore a tattered vest and carried a machete at his hip. The second was a leaner man with sharp features and a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Eric's heart raced as he weighed his options. He could wait for the rest of the group to return, try to learn more about them before making a move. Or he could strike now, while they were separated and unaware of his presence.

The hunger stirred again, urging him forward.

"Blood Puppeteer," Eric whispered, focusing on the burly man.

The system responded immediately, the familiar tug of connection forming between him and his target. Eric winced as the strain hit him—controlling a human was far more difficult than a small animal—but he pushed through, his will overriding the man's resistance.

The bearded man froze mid-step, his eyes glazing over. His companion turned to him, frowning.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" the lean man asked, his voice sharp.

Eric didn't give him a chance to react further. With a flick of his hand, he forced the bearded man to draw his machete and swing.

The blade bit into the lean man's side, and he cried out, stumbling backward. Blood sprayed across the clearing, and the scent hit Eric like a wave, sending a shiver down his spine.

The lean man raised his rifle, but Eric was faster. Releasing his hold on the bearded man, he surged forward, dagger in hand. The lean man barely had time to aim before Eric was on him, driving the blade into his chest.

The man gasped, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing to the ground.

Eric turned to the bearded man, who was still dazed from the effects of Blood Puppeteer. Without hesitation, Eric closed the distance and plunged his dagger into the man's throat.

The clearing fell silent once more, save for the sound of Eric's ragged breathing.

The system chimed, breaking the stillness.

"Combat Complete. Experience Gained: +200. New Level Achieved: Level 3."

Eric exhaled slowly, his hands trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. He wiped his dagger on the bearded man's vest, then crouched to search the bodies.

The lean man's rifle was in good condition, though it only had a handful of bullets left. The bearded man carried a pouch of coins—berries, Eric realized—and a few scraps of dried meat.

"Not bad," he muttered, slipping the items into his satchel.

He glanced toward the tents, wondering if the rest of the group would return soon. The fight had been quick, but it hadn't exactly been quiet.

The hunger stirred again, stronger this time. Eric hesitated, his gaze falling on the fresh blood pooling around the bodies. He hadn't fed since the wolf, and the exertion of the fight had left him drained.

With a deep breath, he knelt beside the lean man and placed his hand on the wound. The blood flowed toward him, sinking into his skin. Warmth flooded his body, and the fatigue melted away.

"Blood Absorption complete. Vitality restored."

Eric straightened, feeling stronger than ever. The power was intoxicating, but he couldn't afford to lose himself in it.

He moved quickly, searching the rest of the camp. The tents were sparsely furnished, containing little more than bedrolls and basic supplies. However, in one of the larger tents, Eric found a map pinned to a wooden board.

It depicted a section of the East Blue, with several routes marked in red. One route passed near Daggerhead Atoll, leading to a place called Loguetown.

"Loguetown," Eric murmured. The name was familiar—it was the place where Gol D. Roger had been executed, and where Luffy's journey had truly begun.

If he could reach Loguetown, he'd have access to supplies, information, and maybe even a crew.

"Quest Objective Updated: Leave Daggerhead Atoll. Reach Loguetown."

Eric folded the map and tucked it into his satchel. He left the camp quickly, retracing his steps to the beach.

The sun was setting by the time he reached the shore. Eric stood at the water's edge, staring out at the horizon. Somewhere out there was Loguetown—and the beginning of his real journey.

But first, he needed a boat.

And he wasn't about to build one himself.