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East Blue, Loguetown Marine Base Cafeteria.
The cafeteria, which should have been bustling, was curiously quiet.
Whispers followed as all eyes fell on a lean boy with his head buried in a pile of food, utterly focused on devouring it.
That boy was Atlas, on orders to fill his empty stomach.
"He's on his third plate already…" murmured those around him, eagerly watching Atlas wage war on the food.
Some jokers even placed bets on how many servings he could finish. But Atlas didn't care—his hunger left no room for distractions.
Despite his thin frame, he kept eating as if fueled by some hidden reserve.
His determined chewing gave him a surge of confidence—a sign, he thought, of his potential.
Sure, eating a lot doesn't make you strong in the pirate world… but strong people can eat, and he finished five full servings.
"Burrrp!" Atlas patted his slightly protruding belly, satisfied, then strode off to the dorms like he owned the place.
Marine Base Dormitory.
After returning, Atlas performed a slow set of post-meal exercises to aid digestion.
He had no supernatural powers—just simple physical effort to process the meal.
After sweating lightly, his cheeks flush with health, he finished and sat quietly to assess his situation mentally.
In his mind floated twelve different octagonal symbols in the darkness—his cheat not a system or inheritance, but twelve talismans.
If he remembered correctly from his childhood story, these were the Zodiac Talisman—ancient charms with devil-fruit-level power, reportedly from the Fire Demon Saint.
Best of all? The sea didn't reject them.
Atlas whispered, "I wonder how these will work in this pirate world?" He focused on the talismans, and his excitement gave way to a sinking realization.
In the original story, activating the talismans used qi; everyone had qi. Here, qi didn't exist.
His stamina would have to come from physical strength. Worse, only one talisman could be activated now; more than one was impossible with his current body.
Turning over the choices in his mind was agonizing.
Rat could animate objects, like Big Mom's Homies;
Ox granted immense strength.
Tiger allowed merging multiple talismans, potentially exponential power.
Rabbit boosted speed and reaction.
Dragon gave explosive attacks.
Snake granted invisibility.
Horse offered healing;
Sheep is an Astral projection.
Monkey shapeshifting.
Rooster levitation.
Dog immortality.
Pig laser eyes.
Would he pick a single power or a supportive one? After a long pause, he made his choice.
He focused on one talisman… "This is it."
.....
June 1501, East Blue – Loguetown Marine Base Parade Ground.
Dawn light shimmered as Atlas, now lean and determined, ran laps across the parade ground, weights strapped to his limbs.
His breath came heavy, effort pouring out into every stride. Four hours of grueling conditioning—crucial in a world that demanded raw physical strength to survive.
As the sun crept higher, his run finished, and he grabbed a bamboo training sword.
Swish, swish, swish
He practiced slashes, thrusts, and blocks with form and discipline. Basic moves only, but fundamentals are the foundation of greatness, just like Zoro's early days.
Counting each repetition—"9,992… 9,993… 9,994…"
Atlas diligently completed his workout. His sweat soaked the ground beneath him.
He was only thirteen and in the weakest sea of all—East Blue—but even here, real pirates lurked.
Collapsing onto his back, he lay spread-eagled under the rising sun. His defined muscles glistened with human determination.
A year ago, he was a sinking wreck; now, he was ready to change everything.
It wasn't just Kanos Atlas's sudden growth in height that shocked people, but the overwhelming strength he'd gained.
Over the past year, aside from daily chores like laundry and mopping, nearly all his time had been devoted to training.
He even forced himself to cut his sleep down to just five hours a day.
What had once been grueling training had become second nature—largely thanks to the Horse Talisman.
Looking back, Atlas was relieved he hadn't been distracted by the flashier powers of the other talismans. Choosing the Horse Talisman had been the perfect decision.
In the world of pirates, physical strength is the foundation of everything—whether it's Devil Fruit abilities or advanced combat techniques, no one becomes strong without a solid body.
What amazed him most was that the Horse Talisman's power went far beyond simply "healing all injuries."
Not only could it cure the pain and strain from training, but it also accelerated physical regeneration when combined with sufficient food intake.
It was similar to Life Return and even mimicked Zoan-type Devil Fruit recovery, allowing wounds to heal by burning stamina mid-battle.
After experimentation, Atlas realized the talisman didn't rely solely on stamina. It also drew energy from his internal reserves.
With repeated use, the talisman's symbol in his mind had started to fade. He was sure this didn't mean it was disappearing—but rather integrating into his very being.
If his guess was right, once the symbol vanished completely, the Horse Talisman would become part of his body—a natural ability, as instinctive as breathing.
It would be something like awakening. Of course, not as overwhelming as Devil Fruit awakenings, but enough to reduce the energy cost significantly.
Over the course of a year, Atlas's height had shot up to an incredible 190 cm—over 6 feet tall. A year ago, he was barely over 160 cm, a scrawny kid with no presence.
Through intense nutrition and brutal sweat-drenched training, he had transformed from a frail twig into a broad-shouldered powerhouse with a narrow waist and bulging arms that nearly tore through his sleeves.
Every day, his arms and torso carried an additional 60 kg of weighted gear, which he only removed for bathing.
Even during combat training, he wore them. Over the years, he had challenged nearly everyone in the base.
From losing every match in the beginning, he'd now reached the point where no one below the rank of Commander could beat him.
He'd taken countless beatings, but never gave up.
Captain Wright, the one who had brought him into the Marine base, had long since stopped being his match—something that left Wright sulking for quite some time.
After a short rest, Atlas dusted off his pants and headed straight for the cafeteria.
These days, he needed enough food for ten people to feel 80% full—a stark contrast to his old self just one year ago.
"Yo! Uncle Carl, ten servings for me, please!" Atlas waved energetically at the bearded man behind the counter the moment he stepped inside.
"Hah? You again, you little monster…" Uncle Carl, or rather Carl Mack—the head chef of the Marine base cafeteria—sighed dramatically.
His tone was gruff, but his eyes were warm. He'd come to know Atlas because of the boy's monstrous appetite and respected his hardworking nature.
After all, Atlas had become the symbol of the next generation at the base.
"Don't be so stingy, Uncle Carl," Atlas said cheerfully. Moments later, the food was ready. Without hesitation, he grabbed a hunk of meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
Marine Base Command Office
"Yes, sir! I'll head out immediately to assist!" Captain Arthur Randall spoke firmly.
He was the commanding officer of the Loguetown Marine Base in East Blue and the man who had approved Atlas's enlistment a year ago.
With a crisp clack, Captain Randall ended the Den Den Mushi call and shouted toward the door, "Messenger!"
"Sound the alarm! Assemble everyone in the parade ground—immediately!"
"Yes, sir!"
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading quickly as the emergency alarm blared across the entire base.
All off-duty personnel began moving at once, including Atlas, who had just finished eating.
"Heh… looks like it's time to test the results of my training," Atlas grinned with a fiery gleam in his eyes and hurried toward the parade ground.
Five minutes later, the entire base had assembled. Standing at the front in his Justice cape, Captain Arthur Randall swept his gaze over the organized formation with satisfaction before roaring,
"Everyone, listen up! A town in our jurisdiction is under attack by pirates. All combat personnel—move out with me to uphold justice! Justice must not be defiled!"
"Justice! Justice! Justice!" the Marines shouted in unison, their voices fierce and unwavering. In the crowd, Atlas's blood was pumping—he felt power surging through every inch of his body.
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