One Piece: I Will Be The Strongest Swordsman!

(Word count: 1360 words) 

Jack woke with a sharp pain throbbing in his head, the sun beating down mercilessly on his face, and the sound of waves gently crashing against the rocks. As he blinked, nearly blinded by the sun's overwhelming brightness, he winced at the pounding ache behind his eyes. His heart raced as he took in his surroundings: palm trees swaying lazily in the warm breeze, and the soft, warm sand beneath him. A wave of panic washed over him. "Where the hell am I?"

Trying to piece together the night before, he recalled being out with friends—laughing, having a good time—and then… nothing. Just a blank void. The last thing he remembered he was out with friends—laughing, having a good time—and then… nothing Just a blank void.

"Great. I don't know where I am or how I got here, and I've got the world's worst hangover. Fantastic," he groaned, running a hand through his messy black hair, now covered in sand. He rose to his feet, brushing off the sand off his clothes. "Okay, I can handle this. Deep breaths. Maybe there's civilization around here." He scanned his surroundings, desperately hoping for anything—a boat, some buildings, or even a big neon sign that read, "Welcome to the Middle of Nowhere Dumbass." But there was nothing: just an endless beach and the looming jungle, an intimidating wall of dense green.

Jack's heart sank as he took in the view. No sign of civilization—just the gentle sound of waves against the shore and the rustling of leaves in the soft breeze.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice bouncing back to him, sounding small and almost pathetic in the vast emptiness. 'Well, I really nailed that 'lost castaway' vibe', he thought bitterly. No response came, just the whisper of the wind and the rustling leaves, each wave that crashed against the beach seeming to mock him, reminding him of the reality he was facing, making him feel even more isolated. The weight of his situation settled heavily around him, fueling his rising frustration. In a fit of anger, he kicked a piece of driftwood, watching it skid across the sand.

"Oh, that's great. It's just me, myself, and I. DAMN IT, THAT'S JUST FUCKING FANTASTIC!" he shouted, his voice heavy with sarcasm and anger as he looked around at the silent, empty beach, the sound of his outburst swallowed by the silence.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. 'Alright, I need to focus on what comes next. Survival means finding food, water, and shelter. I've seen enough survival shows—how hard can it be?' His gaze drifted toward the jungle, a mix of curiosity and unease settling in his gut. 'It can't be that bad in there, right? Maybe I'll even find a coconut and do that 'Wilson' thing from Cast Away.' He joked to himself, but the laugh that escaped him came out a little too forced, echoing in the emptiness.

Stepping into the shade of the towering trees, the cool air provided sweet relief from the sun's relentless heat. He felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. "This is fine. This is totally fine. What could possibly go wrong?" That question answered itself moments later as he swatted at mosquitoes that had the intent of making him their dinner, tripping over a vine and landing face-first in the dirt. "Damn it! I really had to go and open my big mouth."

After that unfortunate incident, Jack stumbled into a small clearing. In the center stood a weathered stone pedestal, partially covered in moss and surrounded by vines. "What is this? Some kind of lost relic from an ancient temple?" he muttered, drawn closer by irresistible curiosity. Resting on top was an old sword, its blade worn but still sharp, gleaming eerily in the filtered sunlight. The hilt was wrapped in frayed leather, intricate designs spiraling along the guard as if it had belonged to someone strong and important long ago.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Okay, this is giving major 'you are the chosen one' vibes," he said, shaking his head but unable to resist the pull of the sword.

As he reached out and grabbed the hilt, he felt a strange energy pulse through him, as if telling a forgotten story of battles fought and victories won long ago. "If this thing starts talking to me, I'm out," he muttered, half-joking but a little too serious. To his relief and mild disappointment, nothing magical happened. The weight of the sword was heavier than he expected, but it felt oddly right in his hands, buzzing slightly as if it had a mind of its own.

"What the hell is this doing here?" he mumbled, glancing around, half-expecting someone—or something—to stop him from taking it. But the jungle remained silent, the stillness stretching on as if the island itself was granting him permission to take it.

He knew he should leave the sword, but a strange sense of destiny tugged at him. Maybe this sword holds some deeper significance, like a prophecy or something. Or maybe it's just a glorified oversized knife. Either way, it's his now.

Securing the sword to his side, Jack felt a spark of determination ignite within him. He was no longer just a lost guy on an island; he was a warrior! A warrior… who was starving. 'Great. First things first: I need to find food. Hopefully, I stumble across something to eat.'

His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of his immediate need. "Alright, time to channel my inner Bear Grylls. Maybe there are some berry bushes around here." He headed deeper into the jungle, hoping to find something edible that wouldn't poison him or make him hallucinate.

The air was thick with humidity, and the sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting shadows on the ground. His stomach growled again, even louder this time. "Okay, focus Berries. Berries." Spotting some bright berries on a nearby bush, he cautiously approached. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me.

He picked one and held it up, eyeing it cautiously. "Well, here goes nothing," he muttered, uncertain, before popping it into his mouth. Heart pounding, he braced for something—anything—to go wrong. But instead, sweetness flooded his senses. 'Oh, thank God. They're not poisonous!' Feeling a little more confident, Jack pocketed a handful of berries and continued his exploration. "Take that, island! I'm not dying today!" A grin broke out on his face, a flicker of hope igniting within him.

Eventually, he stumbled upon a small stream winding its way through the trees. He knelt beside it, cupping his hands to drink. The cool water felt like heaven on his parched throat."Perfect," he breathed, wiping his mouth. " Now all I need is some shelter," he mumbled, getting back to his feet and continuing his search.

As night approached, Jack stumbled upon a clearing surrounded by thick foliage. "Alright, this is a perfect place for a shelter." 'Yeah, I can do this. I've seen Survivor—well, like two episodes. That's besides the point,' he thought. With that in mind, he gathered branches and leaves to construct a makeshift shelter. after a couple of hours, it was finally complete even though It wasn't the best, it would have to do for now. Stepping back to admire his questionable craftsmanship, he shrugged. "Hmm, I'd give it a solid three out of ten. Maybe a four… if I'm feeling generous," he muttered, a hint of pride in his voice.

As night fell, Jack sat in his makeshift shelter, the sounds of the jungle humming around him. He looked out at the starry night sky, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination. "Well, I survived my first day out here," he said quietly, settling into his makeshift bed made of leaves, "Tomorrow, whatever creatures that are on this island better watch out because basically, nothing can stop me now," he declared with a smirk on his face, before drifting off to sleep, the sword beside him.

Little did he know, by taking that sword, he had awakened something ancient and powerful, stirring an unseen presence that would soon make itself known, lurking just beyond the shadows.