ONE PIECE: A Thousandfold Critical Hit

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The man stood at the edge of a cliff, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse of ocean stretching toward the horizon. Waves crashed against the rocks far below, their rhythmic roar filling the air, yet his mind was too tangled in thought to appreciate the view.

'How did I even get here?'

He turned slowly, only to find nothing but sand on his surroundings.

A sudden surge of frustration tightened in his chest, burning like an ember he could no longer suppress. His hands clenched into fists, and before he could stop himself, he tilted his head back and screamed—

"FUCK YOU, ELI!"

The words tore from his throat, raw and unrestrained, echoing across the cliffs before being swallowed by the vastness around him. His shoulders sagged as the outburst left him, the tension in his body easing just slightly.

'Well. That was cathartic.'

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Now, that's one thing out of my mind..." His voice trailed off as the absurdity of the situation settled over him. "Wait—what the hell is happening again?"

His memory was a blur. The last thing he recalled was lounging on his sofa, a half-empty bag of chips in hand, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. No cliffs, no sea, certainly no impromptu screaming sessions directed at... Eli.

'Who even is Eli?'

He frowned, scanning the unfamiliar landscape once more. No answers came—just the indifferent rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a seabird.

Somehow, impossibly, he was no longer home.

And he had no idea why.

Staying here wouldn't change anything. That much was obvious. With a grunt, he turned and trudged away from the shore, only to immediately scrunch his face in irritation. Sand—nothing but endless sand stretched ahead. But unlike the white grains near the ocean, this was desert sand, coarse and burning under the sun.

"I definitely don't want to die pathetically here," he muttered, wiping the sweat already beading on his forehead. He'd just arrived, his mind still packed with unanswered questions. Dying here, with nothing figured out? Unacceptable.

The heat pressed against him like a physical weight. As someone who considered even stepping outside a hassle, this level of exertion was foreign. Still, he forced himself forward, scanning the horizon for any sign of shelter, civilization—anything.

Four hours later...

His vision swam, his legs trembling with every step. He never imagined he'd face something like this. 'Is this hell? Am I already being punished?'

Then, finally, his legs gave out.

He collapsed onto the scorching sand, hissing as the heat seared his skin. His body shuddered as he stared across the barren wasteland, the world tilting dangerously.

'Damn. I should've practiced mo—'

He didn't finish the thought. Even now, on the brink of passing out, he found it laughable. A lazy bastard like him, regretting not exercising? Ridiculous.

Just as darkness crept into the edges of his vision, a strange, mechanical voice echoed in his skull.

[Critic System has been successfully infused!]

[For the host's starter pack, it will be decided by the first word someone says to you.]

The words were hazy, distant. He barely had time to process them before two voices reached his ears—real ones, not just in his head. Someone was approaching.

"Beautiful..."

[Ding! First word received!]

[Starter pack: Beautiful Face!]

[Congratulations to the host for triggering 1,000 times critical hit!]

[Beautiful Face has been upgraded to Divin—]

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The vast desert presented a bizarre sight—a massive pirate ship sailing across endless dunes, its wooden hull gliding over golden sands as if they were waves. Aboard the vessel, chaos erupted.

"Captain! You can't do this!"

"This is sacrilege! Absolute sacrilege!"

"Have mercy, Captain! Don't commit this atrocity!"

The sand pirates knelt in desperation, their voices raw with pleading. Their captain stood frozen, his face twisted in conflict. Logic demanded one course of action, but every fiber of his being rebelled against it. To proceed felt like committing an unforgivable sin.

And what was this unspeakable act?

Tying up the unconscious man they'd found in the desert—alongside two already-bound women and a single, disgruntled camel.

The women, though strikingly beautiful, hadn't given the crew pause. But this man? The moment their eyes fell upon him, their souls recoiled. Not out of fear—he bore no infamous reputation or visible strength—but because his very presence felt sacred. His beauty transcended mortal limits, so radiant it made hardened pirates question their own identities.

The man glowed. Literally.

The captain's hands trembled as he held the rope. After a suffocating silence, he let it drop to the deck. He couldn't do it. Binding this man felt more blasphemous than slaying a Celestial Dragon.

"Ooooohhh! I knew our captain had a conscience!"

"Praise the sands! He's still human after all!"

The crew erupted in relieved cheers as their captain surrendered to morality.

"Put him in a clean bed," the captain ordered, voice hoarse. "Rasa—yours is the least filthy. Carry him."

A lean woman with cropped black hair stepped forward, bowing before gathering the man into her arms with reverence. She moved like a pilgrim bearing holy relics, each step measured and gentle.

Just as she neared her quarters, a shrill whistle cut through the air.

Every member of the Barbar Pirates whirled toward the sound, blood draining from their faces. A figure rocketed toward the ship at terrifying speed—aimed directly at Rasa and the unconscious man.

"INTERCEPT!"

"SHIELD THEM!"

Pirates dove into the projectile's path, forming a living barricade.

BOOOOM!

The collision sent a sandstorm exploding across the deck, obscuring all in a choking haze.

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