Waves crashed against the hull of the Oro Jackson, the dull thuds reverberating across the deck. Thankfully, this was a sailing vessel—the three of them could manage it well enough.
As for the slaves? Handed over to the righteous Marines, of course. They docked at a naval base, unloaded the slaves, then turned tail and ran. Pirates, after all—though Roger and Rayleigh didn't have bounties yet.
Rhett finally understood why Roger's crew was so strong. Who the hell started their pirate career at Vice Admiral–Emperor tier? These two were already monsters.
Rhett already knew that enemies scaled in power step by step. But this? This was like a fresh-out-the-village villain running straight into the hero who'd just slain the Demon King.
Rhett couldn't help but preen at having latched onto two of the future Pirate King's thickest thighs. Was he a nepo baby now? Just imagining the Dark King Rayleigh—his future mentor—Rhett XX, the sheer prestige of it all made him giddy.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Shirtless and drenched in sweat, Rhett hammered his fists—wrapped in thin, flickering Armament Haki—against the iron post. His knuckles were raw, blood mingling with sweat on the deck. The post barely dented.
"Still not enough…" He panted, staring at his trembling hands. "Can't even hold Haki for thirty seconds."
Rayleigh leaned against the railing nearby, sipping from a flask. His gaze, sharp behind his glasses, pinned Rhett like a hawk's. "Kid, keep this up, and you'll ruin those hands."
"I don't care!" Rhett gritted his teeth. "I won't be helpless next time we face real enemies!"
Rayleigh sighed, stepping forward to grip Rhett's shoulder. "The problem isn't your Haki. It's your body." He squeezed Rhett's arm. "Your stamina's monstrous, but your muscle density and bone strength? Nowhere close. You're pouring molten iron into a bamboo tube—the container's too weak to hold that power."
Rhett fell silent.
He knew Rayleigh was right. No matter how hard he trained these past months, his Haki refused to advance. Every time he pushed, his body broke first.
---
That night, in the captain's quarters.
"So I'm stuck as a half-baked hack?" Rhett glared at his palm, voice thick with frustration.
Roger, cross-legged on the floor, grinned. "What kinda nonsense is that? A four-year-old wanting to be the world's strongest? Aiming to conquer the seas already? Bold." He flicked Rhett's forehead. "Your body's still growing. You'll wreck yourself. Hell, I've never seen a four-year-old like you—what're you in such a hurry for? Gotta save the world yesterday?"
After the flick, Roger dug a finger into his nose. "Besides, who said Haki's the only path to power?" He tapped Rhett's chest. "How far've you developed your Mist-Mist Fruit?"
"Stop doing gross stuff right after hitting me!" Rhett bared his shark-like teeth. "I can make illusions, disrupt Observation Haki, and corrode enemies with mist—"
"Too tame!" Roger sprang up, waving his arms. "I once saw a Magma user turn an entire island into a volcano! (Not Akainu.) Your mist? Can you blanket the ocean? Knock people out with a breath? Or—hell, your mist corrodes, right? Why not dissolve enemies where they stand?"
Rayleigh smirked. "Picture this, kid. Once you're strong enough—strong just to meet you—enemies won't even step into your fog. Add illusions, stealth, and Observation disruption? You'll be a wraith in the mist. A nightmare to fight. Unless they can blow your fog away, you're untouchable."
Rhett swallowed hard. Damn, Rayleigh's sales pitch was good. Way better than his past-life boss's empty promises. The idea of standing right in front of someone, utterly untouchable? He craved that.
Dawn broke.
Rhett stood at the bow, eyes closed, feeling the sea breeze.
If his body couldn't handle stronger Haki yet…
"Then I'll make the mist stronger."
He flung his arms wide. Thick white fog erupted, swallowing the ship whole. But this time, the mist didn't disperse—it writhed like something alive, condensing into countless tiny droplets.
"Mist Breathing: Nerve Paralysis!"
Swish—
Seagulls pecking at scraps on deck stiffened mid-bite, then dropped like stones.
Roger's eyes bulged. "What'd you just do?"
"Tweaked the mist's composition." Rhett smirked. "Added trace neurotoxins. Non-lethal, but it locks up muscles."
Rayleigh's gaze sharpened. "Clever. Pair this with your Observation, and you can drop enemies before they sense you."
"More than that." Rhett clenched his fist. The mist in his palm compressed into a translucent blade. "It's no Haki-hardened edge, but—"
Swish! Swish! Swish!
A wooden target in the distance splintered into pieces.
Future Roger and Rayleigh weren't just physical powerhouses—they were master swordsmen.
But one glance at Rhett's technique sent them into hysterics.
"Pfft—HAHAHA!"
"Kid, what the hell was that?!"
Rhett's face burned. "I'm four! And self-taught! What's so funny, you bastards?!"
Roger wiped tears away, still chuckling. "Want me to teach you?"
In one fluid motion, he drew his sword—Portgas D. Ace—and slashed.
A flying slash split the sea.
Rhett gaped. Cutting the ocean wasn't just a figure of speech.
Wait—was this the prototype of Roger's infamous "Divine Departure"?
Sheathing his blade, Roger ruffled Rhett's hair. "Don't box yourself in. Your mist's strength is its intangibility." He pointed at the fading fog blade. "Why force a shape? Relax—I'll find you a proper sword later. Notice how thinning your mist weakens it?"
Rayleigh nodded. "But basics matter. Starting tomorrow: a thousand swings daily."
Rhett internally cheered. The perks of having OP mentors! His fog-sword idea came from seeing Admiral Kizaru's light blade and Aokiji's ice sword.
But he'd overlooked one thing—those two didn't need to maintain massive terrain effects. Even if his mist moved with him…
Rhett would grin. "Naïve. I'll smother the whole island. Try running then."
Even now, unless vastly outclassed, his mist wouldn't disperse easily. With his freakish stamina, he could sustain it indefinitely—a passive skill with infinite MP.
The catch? Current Rhett could trap people in his mist, but against real powerhouses? He'd still need to bolt.
They say an elder's wisdom is priceless. Rhett had two young "elders" steering him clear of pitfalls.
Hank swung his spiked club wildly. "Quit hiding, brat!"
"You probably don't grasp what pH 0.5 means…" Rhett's voice dripped pity. "Ignorance is terrifying."
Suddenly, Hank's eyes seared with pain. His airways burned like fire. He collapsed, screaming soundlessly as acidic mist particles ate at his membranes.
"GAAAH—!"
"M-monster…!" His cries dissolved into the fog, unheard.
When the mist cleared, only corpses remained. A small boat fled in the distance—Rhett spotted it but didn't bother chasing. Dead men told no tales of "Rhett the Terror."
Roger whistled. "That oughta bump your bounty."
Rayleigh nodded approvingly. "Using your fruit to cover Haki's gaps… Smart."
South Blue, Marine Base 77.
Base Captain Groose Horn stormed into the conference room.
A dozen officers snapped to attention, but their faces were grim.
"Sit down!" Captain Groose slammed the files onto the table, his metal prosthetic clanging against the wood with a screech.
"Someone tell me—" His single eye swept across the room, "how a four-year-old wiped out 'Bone Crusher's crew' in three minutes?!"
Major Morris, the intelligence officer, wiped cold sweat from his brow and flipped open the dossier with trembling hands. "A-according to our field agents...
The battle was accompanied by dense fog. We've temporarily codenamed him 'Mist Wraith.' Suspected Logia-type user—Mist-Mist Fruit. Roger's crew member, Rhett."
He activated the Den Den Mushi projector. The grainy footage showed a small figure flickering through thick mist over the water.
The pirates in the footage were clearly in agony. That tiny silhouette phased in and out of the fog like a specter.
The intel officer continued, voice shaking. "Upon returning to Bone Crusher's ship, we found all valuables and food supplies looted. The pirates' eyes, mouths, and noses showed signs of corrosive damage—penetrating even into the brain. The lungs were the worst affected."
"Threat level reassessment—immediately!" Groose roared, slamming his fist down. "Get this to Headquarters! That brat moving through fog like it's nothing? He's a damn ghost!"
A trembling adjutant handed over the freshly printed bounty poster:
*[ "Crimson Mist" Rhett ]*
*[ Bounty: 3,000,000 Berries ]*
*[ Traits: Black hair, red eyes, always shrouded in mist, methods unpredictable ]*
*[ Roger Pirates affiliate—dead or alive ]*
Three days later, aboard the Roger Pirates' ship...
"HAHAHA! Little Rhett, you see your bounty yet?" Roger howled, slapping his thigh. "'Crimson Mist'! Three million berries! Four years old and already this terrifying!"
Rhett scowled at the blurry image of himself on the poster, then at the glaring "DEAD OR ALIVE" stamp. "Marine photographers suck. I'm obviously handsome—why do I look like some vengeful spirit? At least get my face right. How's anyone supposed to recognize me on the street? What's the point of a high bounty if no one knows it's me?"
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, smirking. "Still better than 'White Mist.'"
"Damn right!" Rhett huffed, then muttered under his breath. "'Crimson Mist' sounds badass... Wait, no—screw the Marines. If I catch 'em, they're gonna wish it was just a little pain."
His eyes flicked to Roger and Rayleigh's bounties. He immediately deflated.
1. 5 billion. 1 billion. Compared to that, his 3 million seemed... acceptable. He'd been smug about it earlier, but—
Roger suddenly lunged, wrapping an arm around Rhett's neck with a grin. "Hey, kid—why the hell were you shouting about 'pH levels' when you killed those guys?"
Rhett rolled his eyes. "Don't ask. It's cooler when you yell it!"