One piece: tides of fate

Darkness.

A crushing weight pressed against Ome's chest. His lungs burned, his body refused to move, and the muffled roar of waves filled his ears.

Then—pain.

A sharp, biting cold surrounded him, and suddenly, his body convulsed as seawater rushed into his throat.

"I… I can't breathe!"

Panic surged through him, snapping his mind into full awareness. Drowning. He was drowning.

His body thrashed instinctively, arms and legs kicking wildly. But his movements were sluggish, uncoordinated—his limbs felt foreign. His vision was nothing but a murky blue, sunlight barely piercing the surface above.

"Up. I need to go up!"

With everything he had, he fought against the water, clawing toward the distant glow above. His chest burned. His vision blurred. His body screamed at him to inhale, but he knew if he did—he was dead.

His fingers broke the surface first. Then his head.

Air.

Ome gasped, choking and coughing as he inhaled deeply. Saltwater stung his throat and lungs, but he didn't care. He was alive.

The waves rocked him violently, and he struggled to stay afloat, his arms moving awkwardly.

"Where… where the hell am I?"

No land. No boats. Nothing but endless blue stretching to the horizon.

His breathing was still ragged, his mind spinning. He didn't remember how he got here. His last memory was hazy—a normal day, nothing unusual. And then… nothing.

Now, he was drowning in the middle of the ocean.

A chilling realization crept into his mind.

"I should be dead."

He had been underwater for too long. A normal person wouldn't have survived. And yet… he wasn't just alive. He felt… different.

His body wasn't as exhausted as it should be. His muscles—though unfamiliar—felt stronger. His lungs, though burning, weren't giving out.

It didn't make sense.

"Something's wrong with me."

A distant sound interrupted his thoughts.

A ship.

Ome turned his head. Through the waves, a sail appeared on the horizon.

Hope surged in his chest. He wasn't alone.

He forced himself to stay afloat, waving one weak arm. He needed them to see him.

Then his eyes locked onto the flag.

Black fabric. A grinning skull with two crossed cutlasses.

His heart dropped.

Pirates.

A sick feeling churned in his gut. A regular ship would have been his salvation. But pirates? If they were ruthless, they could kill him without a second thought.

But did he have a choice?

No.

If he stayed here, he would die.

The ship was getting closer. He could hear voices now, shouting over the waves. Someone pointed at him.

"They've seen me."

A thick rope splashed into the water beside him. A voice called out.

"Oi! You alive down there?"

Ome hesitated. He was weak. Vulnerable. But he had no other options.

With shaking hands, he grabbed the rope.

---

The Pirate Ship

His arms trembled as he climbed, saltwater dripping from his soaked clothes. His legs felt like lead, and every muscle screamed in protest.

He reached the top—strong hands grabbed him by the arms and hauled him onto the wooden deck. His body hit the planks hard.

For a moment, he just lay there—breathing.

Rough laughter surrounded him. Boots clunked against the deck. He felt eyes on him—watching, judging.

"Well, well," a voice said. "What do we have here?"

Ome forced himself to sit up. His head throbbed, his vision still blurry. He looked up and met the eyes of a tall man in a black coat, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

This was their captain.

The man crouched in front of him, studying him with interest. His presence was overwhelming—sharp eyes, a confident smirk, and a dangerous aura.

Ome didn't know his name, but this man was definitely not weak.

"Name's Dante Voss," the man said. "Captain of the Storm Serpents."

Ome stayed silent. His mind was still catching up.

Dante tilted his head. "You got a name, or should I just call you 'Driftwood'?"

Ome swallowed, forcing himself to speak. "Abrar Faize Ome."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Bit of a mouthful. I'll just call you Ome."

He stood up, stretching. "You're lucky we picked you up. Not many survive out there."

Ome's hands clenched. Lucky? He didn't feel lucky at all.

Dante turned to the crew. "Alright, give him some space. Let's see if he's worth keeping."

Ome's chest tightened. If I'm not…?

He didn't get to finish the thought. His body was still weak, his mind still foggy. But one thing was clear.

He was in the world of One Piece.

And he had no idea what was going to happen next.

---

Fatebound System Unlocked

A sudden sharp pain pierced Ome's head, making him wince. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.

[System Initialization Complete.]

His body went rigid.

[Welcome to the Fatebound System.]

A translucent screen flickered to life in front of him. Unlike flashy game-like interfaces, this one was cold and efficient—no personality, no unnecessary decorations. Just raw data.

[STATUS SCREEN]

Name: Abrar Faize Ome

Age: 19

Strength: D+

Speed: C

Endurance: D+

Reflexes: C+

Fighting Instinct: B-

Battle IQ: B

Special Abilities: None (Yet)

Overall Rating: D+

Ome's breathing slowed. His stats… they weren't great.

He wasn't weak, but in a world filled with monsters like the Marines, Warlords, and Yonko, a D+ rating meant nothing.

Then, another screen appeared.

[Mission Function Unlocked]

The user may set their own missions.

The Fatebound System will evaluate the difficulty based on current abilities and world standards, assigning a rank from E to SSS.

Rewards will be issued accordingly.

Ome's fingers curled into a fist.

"I can set my own missions… and get stronger based on how hard I push myself?"

This wasn't like typical systems in stories where missions were forced upon the user. He had control.

A deep determination settled in his chest. He had no idea how or why he ended up here. But if this world was anything like the One Piece he knew…

He needed power.

For now, he would survive.

Then, he would rise.

And one day, he would uncover the truth.

---

End of Chapter 1