It was a proven fact that when people were pushed to extremes, their bodies could temporarily unleash strength far beyond normal limits.
Some felt no pain. Some believed their stamina was endless. Others thought their power had multiplied several times over.
In reality, it was nothing more than the sympathetic nervous system going into overdrive. Cell metabolism spiked, muscle cells absorbed more oxygen, oxidation accelerated, and energy was released at an abnormal rate.
Pain still existed. Strength only increased marginally. Stamina was not truly improved.
It was all an illusion born from adrenaline.
And when that surge faded, the backlash came swiftly. Muscles stiffened, limbs went numb, and cramps followed soon after.
When Ash finally regained full consciousness and his pupils refocused, the first thing he noticed was the machete clenched tightly in his hand.
It was soaked in blood.
His clothes were splattered red, and directly in front of him lay a mangled corpse, face up, lifeless and broken.
The delayed reaction hit him all at once.
A wave of numbness spread through his arms and legs, followed by violent churning in his stomach.
"Ugh… wagh…"
Ash staggered, barely holding himself upright.
In the past, when he had nothing better to do, he read plenty of novels. He used to scoff at characters who vomited after killing someone for the first time, criticizing their weak mental fortitude.
Now that he stood here himself, reality hit harder than any criticism.
He was just an ordinary man.
And his mental fortitude was ordinary too.
His stomach twisted violently, and it felt like he was about to vomit up his insides.
After what felt like an eternity, the numbness slowly faded. Ash flexed his fingers, then his legs. The nausea gradually receded, leaving behind exhaustion and lingering disgust.
"That guy was definitely a criminal," Ash muttered hoarsely. "A pirate, no doubt. This counts as self-defense… right?"
That was the first coherent thought that surfaced after he regained his senses.
But before he could dwell on it any further, a loud shout rang out.
"Someone's over there!"
Ash's heart jolted violently.
"Damn it," he muttered. "I've never been this scared in my life."
He tried to stand, but his legs felt weak and uncooperative. Unable to rise properly, he twisted his body and looked back instead.
More than a dozen burly men were charging toward him, armed with bows, arrows, harpoons, and crude weapons.
From their attire and equipment, Ash quickly realized these were not pirates. They looked more like villagers, strong young men who had likely just returned from fishing or hunting.
"Big Brother Sali, look over there!" one of them shouted, pointing at the corpse beside Ash.
The tall man leading them stepped forward. His sharp gaze swept over the bloodied remains, then shifted to Ash. His voice was deep and steady.
"You don't look like a pirate," he said. "Your clothes and appearance don't match. Young man, who are you?"
"Young man?" Ash blinked briefly, then immediately responded.
"I'm not a pirate," he said quickly. "I'm from another sea. I was traveling when I blacked out and woke up on this beach. I didn't even know where I was until I was attacked. I only fought back to survive."
He raised his hands instinctively.
"Look at my skin, it's not the skin of someone who lives at sea. And my hands don't have weapon calluses. I don't fight for a living."
Ash spoke clearly and calmly, laying out the sequence of events without hesitation. Every word was deliberate, aimed at separating himself completely from pirates and criminals.
Sali listened in silence, his brows furrowing slightly.
He had never heard of the places Ash mentioned, but the seas were vast, filled with countless islands and nations. More importantly, Ash's appearance matched his explanation. The corpse on the ground, though disfigured, was unmistakably dressed like a pirate.
Sali glanced at the rake embedded in the pirate's shoulder and nodded slowly.
"You're lucky," he said. "Hide in the forest behind us. Don't come out. Once we deal with the pirates, I'll send someone to find you."
Without waiting for a response, Sali turned and led his men toward the village at a run.
"Repel the pirates…" Ash murmured as he watched them leave. "They're confident. These guys aren't weak."
After a brief pause, he shook his head.
"Better to hide first."
Ash did not know that while he was thinking about them, they were also thinking about him.
One of the men who had first noticed the corpse spoke with visible dissatisfaction.
"Big Brother Sali, why waste time talking to that guy? In those minutes, more villagers could have died!"
"Shut it, Pini!" another man snapped. "Are you questioning Big Brother Sali?"
"It's fine," Sali said calmly, stopping the argument. "From that young man's clothes and demeanor, he could be a noble kidnapped by pirates."
"A noble?" several voices exclaimed in shock.
Sali's eyes hardened.
"No matter how many pirates we capture, the Marines will still be involved. If there's a suspected noble victim, the Marines won't make things difficult for us, whether it's bounties or investigations."
Pini opened his mouth to argue, but the group had already reached the village entrance.
"…Understood," he said finally. "Sorry for doubting you, Big Brother Sali."
"Enough talk," Sali said. "Let's kill these pirates and avenge our people!"
Meanwhile, Ash entered the forest, machete still in hand.
Too much had happened in too short a time. His mind was unsettled, and a vague sense of unease lingered, though he couldn't identify the source.
Gradually, even the sounds of battle from the village faded into silence.
Ash's thoughts began to wander again. Part of him wondered if he should return to the beach and see what a pirate ship actually looked like.
But Sali's words stopped him.
Someone would come for him.
Leaving now would only cause misunderstandings. Worse, there could still be pirates guarding the ship.
Walking into that would be suicide.
His life mattered more.
Just as he was weighing his options, synchronized footsteps sounded behind him.
Ash sighed inwardly.
"Pirates or villagers," he muttered, "why does everyone insist on sneaking up from behind?"
Still, he turned around.
The sight froze him in place.
A squad of Marines stood there.
They wore sleeveless white sailor uniforms with neatly tied scarves. Swords hung at their sides, rifles slung over their shoulders. Leading them was a Marine officer with a handlebar mustache and a long greatcoat draped over his shoulders.
Ash recognized the sight instantly.
His mouth fell open.
"This uniform… this isn't just familiar," he whispered.
One thought echoed endlessly in his mind.
"So that's what felt wrong," Ash thought grimly. "I didn't transmigrate into some random survival world."
"This is the One Piece world."
The realization hit like a hammer.
"No wonder everyone looked so rough," he continued silently. "Pirates. Villagers. Marines…"
His grip on the machete tightened.