Lucien had only taken a few steps before stopping again.
"Aunt," he asked, "do you happen to know anyone in this village nad Zoro, Nami, or Usopp?"
He purposely left out Sanji's na. If his mory of the One Piece world was correct, Sanji should still be sowhere on the sea, training under Red-Leg Zeff at the Baratie.
The woman tilted her head, thinking for a mont. "I've never heard of the Zoro or Nami you ntioned, but there is a boy nad Usopp. Poor thing lies a lot, though. His mother died so ti ago."
Lucien's eyes lit up slightly. "Aunt, I was once saved by a man nad Yasopp. He told that if I ever got the chance, I should visit his family. Could you tell where Usopp lives?"
"Oh, so you know that man," she huffed, her expression darkening. "Yasopp abandoned his wife and child years ago. If you want to see his boy, go straight down this road. At the third fork, there's a narrow path leading up the hill. Walk about five minutes, and you'll find his house there."
Lucien nodded politely. "Thank you, Aunt."
He turned and walked away, Raphael following close behind. The directions were simple enough — straight road, third fork, up the hill.
Five minutes later, they stood before a small, shabby house. The place was barely standing; its roof was patched with mismatched boards, and the walls bore cracks from years of neglect. Poverty clung to every corner.
Lucien stepped forward and knocked twice.
"Knock, knock."
The door creaked open. A small boy with a long nose peeked out. He couldn't have been more than six or seven.
"Who are you?" the boy asked timidly.
Lucien smiled. "Are you Usopp? Is your father's na Yasopp?"
The boy's eyes widened. "You… you know my father?"
Before Lucien could say another word, his expression went blank. The faint click of tal echoed through the air. A mont later, the sound of a gunshot shattered the silence.
Bang.
Usopp's small body fell backward, eyes frozen wide in disbelief. Blood splattered across the floorboards.
Lucien lowered his pistol without a word. "Let's go," he said calmly.
He didn't look back.
Behind him, Raphael stood motionless, trembling. He stared at the scene — the blood, the small, still body — utterly stunned.
Why?
The child had done nothing. His father had saved Lucien once. Why kill him?
Raphael wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't co. The ruthlessness he'd just witnessed went beyond anything he'd seen — colder than any pirate, crueler than any assassin.
As they walked back down the hill, the woman from before noticed them returning. She was wiping sweat from her brow when she spotted them.
"Back so soon? Did you not find the boy?" she asked curiously.
Lucien smiled faintly. "We t him, Aunt. Thank you again for your help."
He and Raphael continued down the path without looking back.
The woman frowned slightly. "How strange…" she muttered before returning to her work.
An hour later, the ship's sails caught the wind once more. The vessel pulled away from Syrup Village, leaving behind nothing but silence and a faint crimson stain that the rain slowly washed away.
The mission had taken less than an hour — clean, efficient, rciless. Lucien was a man of few words and no hesitation.
The light screen flickered before his eyes once more.
[Mission complete: "Successfully eliminated supporting character Usopp."
Reward: Three Dice Rolls. Luck 1.]
The sa cold notification as always.
Lucien sighed. "So, the cycle repeats."
He rolled the first die. The familiar rattle echoed, and the virtual airplane piece jumped three spaces forward on the ga board.
A faint shimr of light appeared — and then an item materialized in front of him.
[Item: A bottle of expired Chilli Sauce.
Description: Spicy chili oil made with peanuts, peppercorns, and garlic. Expired.]
Lucien's expression twitched. "…Expired?"
He exhaled sharply through his nose. It wasn't the first ti the so-called "Golden Finger" had given him sothing utterly useless. Last ti, it had given him cancer. Now, expired condints.
"Fine," he muttered. "At least it didn't explode."
He steadied his breathing and rolled the dice again. The airplane jumped four spaces this ti.
Another flash.
Reward: Sunflower Manual.
Description: To master this divine art, one must first castrate oneself. Can be understood and practiced in any world.
Lucien's face froze. "What kind of cosmic joke is this?"
Suppressing a groan, he imdiately rolled the third die. The airplane piece hopped five spaces.
Do you wish to use Luck?
"Yes," Lucien said without hesitation.
A shimr of light burst forth, brighter this ti.
Reward: Six Styles Technique — Soru.
Description: One of the Rokushiki techniques used by CP9. By kicking off the ground dozens of tis within 0.36 seconds, the user generates explosive propulsion, allowing for movent faster than the eye can follow.
Learn skill?
Lucien's lips curved faintly. "Finally, sothing worthwhile. Learn."
Pain surged through him. His body convulsed violently — his muscles tensing, nerves burning, bones aching. The world spun, then steadied.
When it ended, knowledge of the technique flowed through his mind like instinct. He could feel the principles of Soru — the precise rhythm of acceleration, the control of montum, the exact posture required.
But knowing and mastering were two very different things.
Lucien wiped the sweat from his brow, expression turning cold again. "So even this won't be handed to easily."
He exhaled, reflecting quietly.
This Golden Finger was both a gift and a curse. Every reward ca with pain, every improvent demanded effort. He had received useful things — his 92-type pistol, bullets, the Basic Military Combat Techniques, and now Soru. But he had also drawn nonsense — cancer, expired sauce, useless trinkets.
He opened the light screen, reviewing his progress:
[Dice Rolls: 10 Total
1. Type-92 Pistol (10 bullets, 1 used)
2. Mid-stage cancer → late-stage cancer
3. 60 ml item (sold for 110,000 Berries)
4. Online card-dealing advertisent
5. Skill: Basic Military Combat Techniques
6. Random Transmigration 1
7. A 18 Content
8. Expired Chilli Sauce
9. Skill: Sunflower Manual
10. Skill: Six Styles — Soru]
Lucien studied the list, his face unreadable.
So gains were worth it. Others… not so much.
If the dice system really operated by random chance, then he was gambling with his life every ti he rolled. Yet the only way forward — the only way to grow stronger — was through this sa system.
He could complain, but it wouldn't change anything.
He leaned against the ship's railing, watching the endless blue horizon. "If hard work is the price for power," he murmured, "then so be it."
At least in this life, unlike his last, effort ant sothing.
He had died once already. Blood, pain, exhaustion — none of it frightened him anymore.
What mattered was moving forward. Always forward.
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