Afternoon.
The Navy recruit training ship arrived in the waters near the ancient island known as Little Garden. From the ship's lookout post, one could spot a small, active volcano puffing black smoke into the sky.
The marines initially assumed this was yet another trial island and began preparing to disembark.
To their surprise, the warship anchored offshore instead, and the instructors ordered everyone to remain onboard for self-directed training.
Some sharp-eyed soldiers noticed that Chief Instructor Zephyr, along with several of his lieutenants, had used Geppo to soar toward the island.
That included Trace.
Leaning against the railing of the deck, Trace watched Zephyr become a tiny black dot in the sky, falling into thought.
"I've never heard of Zephyr having any ties with the two giants on Little Garden…
"Maybe Marine HQ has never truly given up trying to recruit these two massive powerhouses?
"Or could this be the result of my butterfly effect?"
After some consideration, Trace decided the second theory was most likely. Still, it wasn't something worth dwelling on.
"Now that we've arrived at Little Garden—a primitive island inhabited by two top-tier giants...
"Tonight, I fish again!"
While the other marines busied themselves with their training, Trace quietly slipped into the mess hall's back kitchen and returned to the ingredient processing room to resume his favorite activity: butchering Sea Beasts and Sea Kings.
[You killed a Sea Beast – Overall Grade: F]
[…]
He had just started slicing through a few creatures when a thunderous explosion suddenly rang out from outside the kitchen windows.
Trace instinctively made an inverted cross gesture over his chest—then remembered:
"This isn't Kaido's funeral."
Though... come to think of it, Kaido-sensei didn't even survive to see Children's Day…
"Most likely, Zephyr's duking it out with those two giants."
He glanced outside. The kitchen windows didn't face Little Garden, so he couldn't see the island directly, but the conclusion wasn't hard to reach.
"Whatever. This familiar background noise actually makes fish-slaying feel smoother…"
The distant rumbling lasted less than two minutes.
While his colleagues chattered about what might've happened, Trace ignored them entirely and threw himself into the slaughter with full focus.
One slash. Two slashes.
One head. Two heads.
High-quality ingredients, after all, are best prepared with clean, efficient cuts.
---
By nightfall, Trace—exhausted but content—returned to his cabin and opened his system interface. Time for another round of Fishing.
Thanks to his growing butchering skills, he'd collected more F-rank bait than the previous day. Adding in the unused stockpile, he now had 48 F-rank baits.
Still stinging from yesterday's disappointing results, Trace had already sworn:
"No more F-tier fishing tonight!"
Without hesitation, he opened the fusion interface.
Low-grade bait could be combined into high-grade bait, with conversion rates depending on the quality.
Luckily, most of the Sea Beasts he'd butchered were mid-tier, so he went straight for max-efficiency fusion—using 16 F-grade bait to produce one top-quality E-grade bait.
Soon, he had three of them in hand.
Taking a deep breath, Trace whispered a quick prayer to the goddess of fortune.
"I do have some luck, don't I?"
[Fishing in progress…]
[Result: Trait – E-rank Trait: Navigation]
[Description: A skill level comparable to elite navigators.]
[Effect: Allows safe travel across the Four Blues and most of Paradise.]
[Evaluation: "The weather's great. Too bad it didn't rain—or things might've gone sideways."]
[Fishing in progress…]
[Result: Item – E-rank Weapon: Dismembering Virgin – Replica]
[Origin: Fate series.]
[Description: A high-grade surgical scalpel crafted as a replica of Jack the Ripper's Noble Phantasm.]
Effect:
[1. Extreme Sharpness – Sharper than most "Grade 50" blades; even better than some "Grade 21" blades.]
[2. Armor Penetration – Ignores all physical defense if the target's Endurance is below E+.]
[3. Durability – Highly resistant to wear, much tougher than a standard scalpel.]
[Evaluation: "The filthy sound of spurting blood, the slither of falling viscera—meet your end in despair."]
[Fishing in progress…]
[Result: Item – E-rank Item: Eternal Pose to Little Garden]
[Description: A specialized compass permanently set to point toward Little Garden. Immune to all magnetic field interference.]
[Evaluation: "A compass that doesn't always point north."]
Ripples spread across the dimensional sea as two items materialized in Trace's hands, frame-by-frame like a glitch in reality.
In his left hand, a silver Eternal Pose resembling a pocket watch, its casing pale silver, its interior a crystal-clear orb with a suspended, unmoving pointer.
In his right, a slim surgical scalpel, palm-length, with a razor-thin leaf-shaped blade that glinted with a chilling light—as if it could slice through skin at any moment.
Trace examined his loot carefully.
"E-rank [Navigation]? Not bad. At least now I don't have to stress about cramming for navigation exams in training."
"[Dismembering Virgin – Replica]... A top-tier weapon. Its sharpness even surpasses Grade 50 swords? But the real kicker is the armor-piercing effect. That said—what am I supposed to do with a scalpel when I don't even know basic swordsmanship?! Fishing system, are you trying to mess with me?!"
"[Eternal Pose to Little Garden]… tch. Practically useless. Looks like a pocket watch, but doesn't even tell time."
All things considered, it wasn't a bad haul. Nothing unique to Little Garden, but still decent for three top-grade E-baits.
Trace casually tossed the Eternal Pose onto the table, then turned his attention to the new weapon.
He experimentally ran the Replica Scalpel across his finger.
Before he even felt anything, a thin red line appeared—beads of blood bubbling up like dewdrops.
"Tch—!"
He quickly popped his finger into his mouth.
His Endurance stat was D, and yet it had been sliced like butter. The armor-ignoring effect was no joke.
"Nice blade. Compact and easy to carry. Perfect for self-defense."
---
The Next Morning.
Bright-eyed and well-rested, Trace stepped out of his cabin with a plan: spend the morning observing live-fire drills in the shooting range.
But he'd barely walked a few steps when two familiar figures approached.
"Hey, Tashigi!" Trace raised a hand in greeting. "And… gray-haired sir."
Smoker. The White Hunter.