Marineford, Naval Headquarters.
The First Naval Headquarters Elite Training Camp — Soldier Recruitment Office.
Navy soldier: "Name?"
"Hammer…"
"I asked for your name, not your nickname!"
"Let's call it… Iron Hammer."
"…"
"Age?"
"Eighteen."
"!?? Eighteen years old?"
"Um…"
The naval soldier looked up at the three-meter-tall man before him and unconsciously wiped the sweat from his brow.
*Are kids these days raised on grass? Eighteen years old and already three meters tall…*
"Letter of introduction?"
Iron Hammer patted his pocket, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and handed it over.
The soldier scanned it. "Shamputi… Rear Admiral Phil Jackson… Hmm. All right, assemble at the parade ground."
Iron Hammer blinked. "Parade ground? Gathering? I'm just here to register at Marineford—I plan to open a blacksmith shop. What's this gathering for?"
"Huh??? Aren't you here for the training camp? This *is* the registration area for the First Navy Elite Training Camp."
*Holy crap… I made a mistake…*
Iron Hammer, as his name suggested, was a blacksmith.
Not just any blacksmith—he was a government-salaried naval blacksmith, responsible for forging standard-issue swords, firearms, and cannons for Marine personnel.
And the man standing before them was no ordinary blacksmith either.
Because he had just transmigrated.
In his previous life, Iron Hammer had been an elite swordsmith on Earth. He'd been in his workshop, watching *One Piece* while hammering steel, when he caught sight of the garish, clunky firearms used on Bullet Island.
"What the hell?" he'd muttered. "They're all so ugly—an insult to craftsmanship."
The next second, his forge exploded.
He—and the molten iron—were blasted into the sky.
When he awoke, he was lying in Marineford Square.
Fortunately, the body he'd inherited belonged to a fellow blacksmith, clad in a Marine uniform—offering at least a shred of legitimacy.
Following the crowd, he'd arrived at the recruitment office… only to be mistaken for a trainee.
"What's going on? Why's it so noisy?"
"Don't you know? Today's a very important day."
Just as Iron Hammer stood frozen in confusion, a deep voice rumbled from behind him.
Short purple hair. Round glasses. A broad, muscular frame. And a white coat emblazoned with the word **"Justice."**
*Confirmed.* This was none other than **Zephyr**—former Marine Admiral, now head instructor of the Naval Elite Training Camp.
"General Zephyr!" The soldier snapped to attention and saluted, quickly explaining the situation.
Zephyr's sharp eyes settled on the towering figure before him—neat black hair, three meters tall, built like a warship's prow.
*Hmph. Solid frame. Good potential.*
"Since you're here," Zephyr said, "why not join the training camp?"
Iron Hammer's face twisted in dismay.
He'd come to Marineford with one simple dream: work as a logistics blacksmith, earn a steady wage, maybe find a quiet spouse, and stay far, *far* away from war and world-shaking drama.
And now, on his very first day, he'd run straight into a living legend?
*This is a disaster… like a pot burning dry. I'm so frustrated I could cry…*
"General Zephyr," Iron Hammer said carefully, "I'm just a blacksmith. Even though my base commander sent me here, I know my limits. I'd be better off staying at Headquarters, working the forge."
Zephyr said nothing. Instead, he took the letter of recommendation from Rear Admiral Phil Jackson of the Sabaody Archipelago Base and read it thoroughly.
Then he looked up.
"Oh? The 'ordinary' blacksmith you're talking about… is someone who can lift a thousand pounds, drags warships for daily training, and has eaten a Devil Fruit?"
Iron Hammer's soul left his body.
*That wasn't me! That was the original owner! I just want to live a quiet, uneventful life…*
**[Ding… System activated due to excessive emotional fluctuations in the host.]**
**[Ding… Excessive negative energy detected. System unbinding…]**
*What the—?! My system appeared… and is already leaving?!*
A thousand furious thoughts stampeded through Iron Hammer's mind.
**[Ding… System unbound. As a humanitarian gesture, a farewell gift has been issued. Please accept it.]**
**[Have a pleasant journey, host! *kiss*]**
Iron Hammer stood speechless.
He'd disgraced the entire transmigrator community. First a catastrophic misunderstanding, now an abandoned system?
The "gift" consisted of two things:
First, a **status interface**—allowing him to view his own attributes.
Second, a **talent**: **Critical Strike Chance**.
As the name implied, whenever he forged an item, there was a chance to trigger a **critical strike**—doubling efficiency and potentially imbuing the item with a special attribute. A notification would appear whenever this occurred.
It was a fantastic ability… for a blacksmith.
Completely useless when standing in a military training square surrounded by future monsters.
"Alright, Iron Hammer," Zephyr declared, his voice final as a gavel strike. "You're in my camp. Go stand over there in the square!"
Helpless, Iron Hammer trudged toward the assembly area, shoulders slumped.
The parade ground was already packed with elite Marine recruits.
And among them… names he recognized all too well.
First, **Sakazuki**—cold-eyed, stern, radiating menace. The future Admiral Akainu.
Then **Borsalino**—lounging with lazy arrogance, sunglasses perched on his nose. The future Admiral Kizaru.
*Wow… the pressure is unreal.*
As Iron Hammer stepped onto the field, every eye turned toward him.
Three meters tall. Broad as a fortress. Impossible to ignore.
"Hey, bro!" A two-meter-tall recruit jogged over, grinning. "Name's Lance, from the North Blue. You're huge! Which branch you from?"
*Lance? Never heard of him…*
Still, Iron Hammer replied politely: "Iron Hammer. Sabaody Archipelago."
Then he fell silent—pulling up his newly unlocked status panel.
**Name:** Iron Hammer
**Age:** 18
**Devil Fruit:** Paramecia-type — *Hammer-Hammer Fruit* (Development: 30%)
**Haki Potential (Dao Power Value):** 2000
**Conqueror's Haki:** Not Awakened
*A clean, straightforward display.*
So the original owner *had* eaten a Devil Fruit—no wonder he'd been recommended for elite training.
Iron Hammer tentatively tested the fruit's power.
The *Hammer-Hammer Fruit* allowed him to generate hammer-like force from any part of his body—fists, elbows, even his head.
*Smash iron with bare hands… In my old world, I'd be the ultimate fraud exposé expert.*
Forget knives or clubs—just start hammering.
But in the *One Piece* world?
That wouldn't cut it.
*Fighting's out of the question. Blacksmithing is still the way to go.*