Chapter 9 Under the Smoke and Steel
The sea beyond Loguetown was deceptively calm. Beneath its glistening surface, tension brewed like a storm waiting for permission to rise. Ashen Veyr stood alone on the edge of a docked vessel he'd "liberated" from a petty warlord's crew the night before. The crew was already dealt with—now turned over for bounty—and the ship had become his temporary base of operations.
His body still ached slightly from the spar with Captain Smoker. It hadn't been a fight to the death—more a probing match, a measure of intent and strength. Smoker had been direct, his blows like tidal waves, his Logia ability relentless. But Ashen had withstood the assault long enough to strike back once. That singular, solid hit had awakened something raw inside him.
[System Notification]
Skill Unlock Condition Partially Met: Tekkai (Iron Body) – Incomplete Form
Haki Potential Stirred – Busoshoku Trace Signature: 4.6% Sync Detected
He hadn't expected it. Not yet. But during that moment—when Smoker's jitte threatened to drive into his ribs—Ashen's body had hardened, reflexively. His skin resisted. His mind went blank. Then, heat—not from impact, but from inside. His blood sang of something ancient.
Now, he stood beneath the morning sky, eyes scanning the distant harbor where new ships trickled in and out of Loguetown. Smoker had let him go with a single nod.
"Don't cause problems. But if you're hunting pirates, I won't stop you."
A deal unspoken.
Ashen smirked faintly, pulling his wakizashi from the belt at his hip. He practiced slow draw motions in silence, letting the wind guide the edge as he moved. The weapon responded as if sensing his intention, whispering across the air with a hum only his sharpened senses could hear.
He was stronger. Faster. His Soru had reached a usable rhythm. The afterimage from each step was no longer a blur—now it was a weapon in itself.
And word was spreading.
"Another crew's heading for Reverse Mountain," a local fisherman muttered at the market nearby. "That makes three in two days. Think they'll survive?"
Ashen's ears caught it, tuned to these whispers like a predator listening for prey.
---
By midday, he moved through the back alleys of Loguetown, cloak drawn around his shoulders. He wore no insignia, no color that declared allegiance. Only his presence drew glances. He was a phantom now—a shadow that whispered through bounty boards and Marine files without ever having a bounty himself.
Not yet.
The Marines didn't quite know what to do with him. He turned in pirates, but didn't register. He fought like a trained killer, but never struck first without cause. Smoker's personal note had passed through the local branch the day after their spar:
> "Ashen Veyr – not hostile. Potential ally. Monitor, not confront."
It gave him room to operate.
He stopped at a low-roofed tavern near the port, stepping inside with quiet purpose. Eyes lifted—sailors, fence-dealers, two bounty hunters. One stood up, surprised.
"You're the guy who dropped off Gaspard's crew last night…"
Ashen didn't respond. He approached the bar.
"I need information," he said simply. "Ships prepping for the Grand Line. Captains with high body counts. I'll pay."
The barkeep was smart enough not to haggle. He slid over a folded list.
Ashen opened it.
Dirk the Boil – 8.1 million, arsonist, known for torching Navy outposts.
Kellan Drake – 11 million, mercenary captain turned pirate, recently docked with 30 men.
Silver Jeet – 9.5 million, duel enthusiast, has killed five ranked bounty hunters in open combat.
Perfect.
Ashen folded the list, nodded once, and turned to leave.
He needed the fights. Not for the Berry alone—but to test the edges of the power coiling in his limbs. He could feel it—his body, finally catching up with his instincts. One step away from transcending the humans around him.
Soon, the world would hear the name Ashen Veyr—and not in whispers.
They would hear it in reverence or in fear.
Either was fine.
---
Ashen stood on the deck of a newly commandeered ship, feeling the salt of the sea breeze sting his face. The waves, vast and untamed, pushed against the hull with a constant rhythm that was both soothing and stirring. His eyes narrowed as he gazed out at the horizon, mentally mapping out his next move. He had decided to track down the pirate crews listed by the barkeep in Loguetown—a decision driven by more than just monetary gain.
He needed to test his limits, to see how far his growing abilities could take him. Each confrontation was an opportunity to gauge his progress. But more than that, every fight was another step closer to mastering the skills locked deep within him—skills he wasn't entirely sure how to control.
His Soru had grown faster over the past few days. The afterimages of his movements had sharpened, and his speed was now a terrifying tool. Efficiency was up to 52%, the fluidity of his steps becoming almost second nature. He had tested it with smaller targets, avoiding detection by enemies and closing gaps in the blink of an eye. But now, the real challenge awaited him.
The Tekkai, or Iron Body, was still unstable. His body would harden upon instinct but couldn't yet fully withstand the blows from powerful opponents. The Busoshoku Haki had manifested in faint pulses when he drew his sword during combat but hadn't yet materialized into the full armor of invisible force he desired.
But that would change. All in time.
---
The first target on his list was Dirk the Boil, a notorious arsonist who had burned several Navy outposts before venturing into piracy. With a bounty of 8.1 million, Dirk was an amateur in comparison to many, but Ashen knew that each victory in the East Blue could shape his reputation. It wasn't just about strength—it was about what others saw in you.
His ship cut through the waters with a quiet hum as he steered toward an island known for its harbor of outlaws and rogue pirates. When the port came into view, Ashen disembarked, his movements smooth, precise. The island was a haven for scum—perfect for someone like him to hunt.
As he walked down the cracked streets, people avoided his gaze. The silent tension that followed him was palpable. The whispers were growing louder, people talking of a "white-haired phantom" who had dispatched pirates effortlessly.
Ashen didn't care about the rumors. They would spread, but it didn't matter. What mattered now was Dirk the Boil, and the reputation that would come with taking him down.
---
The tavern he entered smelled of smoke and salt. It was packed with rough figures—a mix of drunken sailors and unscrupulous pirates. The chatter died down when Ashen entered, but he paid it no mind. He didn't come for words.
A gruff voice called out from the back, "Oi! You the one with the fancy sword?"
Ashen turned toward the source, eyes locking with a pirate whose face was half-burned, one arm missing. Dirk the Boil. The man wore a grin that looked more like a snarl as he stood up, swaggering toward Ashen with a burning cigar in his mouth.
"You've got the look of someone who wants trouble. I'm not impressed," Dirk growled.
Ashen didn't respond immediately. He simply pulled out his Wind-Fused Wakizashi, the blade catching the light as he held it in a casual but deadly grip.
"I'm here to collect," Ashen said, his voice quiet but sure.
Dirk laughed, spitting onto the floor. "You think you're the one who collects bounties around here?"
Ashen didn't wait for Dirk to finish his sentence. He was already in motion, the Soru kicking in as his body blurred. In a single burst, he closed the distance between them, his wakizashi already moving in a swift arc aimed directly at Dirk's throat.
Soru (52% Efficiency)
The speed was unnerving. Dirk had no time to react—his eyes widening in shock as Ashen's sword nearly cut through his throat before he even knew what was happening.
The pirate's hand shot up to block, but Ashen's blade was already too close. Dirk's arm burned with a surge of Busoshoku Haki—a fraction of Ashen's latent ability spilling out and coating his sword with a faint, invisible armor. It wasn't much, but it was enough to slice through Dirk's defense, cutting deeply into his shoulder.
Dirk roared in pain and fury, stumbling back as Ashen pressed the advantage. Without hesitation, Ashen used the Soru again, the afterimage lingering behind him as he closed the gap and delivered a horizontal slash that left a deep gash across Dirk's chest.
But it wasn't enough.
The pirate captain's body twisted unnaturally, and Ashen felt a surge of heat rush from his opponent. Dirk's body had begun to smolder, flames dancing across the burns that marred his skin.
"I don't go down that easily," Dirk snarled, his voice raw. His body was now fully engulfed in flames as he activated his Devil Fruit power. Boil-Boil Fruit: he could set his body ablaze at will.
Ashen's mind raced as the flames surged around Dirk. He couldn't get close without burning himself—but his instincts kicked in. He dropped low, using Soru to dash past the flames. The heat was intense, but he was faster than Dirk could follow. He came up behind him, already drawing his sword for another strike.
The pirate captain swung wildly, but Ashen's Soru was already in play. He dodged, slashing once more at Dirk's exposed back. The sword's edge rang with sharp precision, leaving a trail of sparks behind it. Dirk howled in pain, but this time, he couldn't recover quickly enough.
The battle was over. Dirk the Boil fell to his knees, the flames flickering out as his body collapsed. He was alive, but barely. Ashen moved to him, placing his sword at the pirate's throat.
"Do you want to keep living?" Ashen asked, his voice flat.
Dirk grunted in response, his breath shallow.
"You know what that means." Ashen's voice didn't change, but his grip tightened on the hilt.
With a final, strained breath, Dirk the Boil nodded. Ashen leaned in closer, his words a warning. "Then stay down and stay out of my way."
---
As Ashen walked away from the wreckage of the tavern, the world around him seemed to stand still. His fight with Dirk had been quick but brutal—one step closer to his ultimate goal. The East Blue was now aware of him.
The power he was unlocking was growing.
And the next steps would be even more dangerous.
The next morning, Ashen was already back on the open sea, guiding his vessel across the Eastern waters with calm precision. The early sun painted the sky in muted golds, while seabirds cawed in the distance. Beneath the surface calm, Ashen's focus was razor sharp.
The bounty on Dirk had already been cashed in at a quiet Marine outpost north of Loguetown. The officers hadn't asked too many questions—the brand of his skill had spoken for itself. The moment they'd seen the battered, near-dead pirate dumped at their feet, they'd moved swiftly. Whispered rumors were growing louder now: a bounty hunter not aligned with the Marines or the underworld, whose presence was marked by sudden, decisive violence.
Ashen had no interest in the spotlight. What he wanted was control—over himself, over his enemies, over fate.
And now, a new name had come across his radar: The Hookjaw Pirates, a crew of thirty with a small brig captained by a ruthless woman named Lura Hookjaw, known for hunting Devil Fruit users and selling them to the underworld. Her bounty stood at 12.2 million, and the last known sighting of her ship, Riptide Fang, had been near a chain of islets southeast of Loguetown—close to Reverse Mountain.
Perfect.
---
He found the Riptide Fang anchored by a jagged reef, the deck bustling with crewmembers prepping for sail. From a distance, it looked like an ordinary pirate crew, but Ashen's Kenbunshoku—still only faint and instinctive—stirred within him. A subtle tension prickled down his spine as he neared the ship, hidden behind a rocky ridge in a small, camouflaged dinghy.
This time, he wouldn't confront them from the front.
He'd test a different tactic.
Ashen used Soru sparingly across the rockface, a silent blur slipping past the lookouts on the outskirts of the islet. The moment he saw the brig anchored in a shallow cove, he slipped beneath the hull, climbing the ropes slowly until he reached the under-deck grating.
From there, he waited.
Two guards passed. One was humming, the other dragging a crate.
Ashen surged up in an instant, snapping both into unconsciousness with precise strikes—one to the throat, one to the temple. He dragged them into a corner and made his way silently across the lower deck.
Then he rose.
---
The upper deck burst into chaos as Ashen suddenly appeared midship, sword in hand. He wasted no time. His Soru sent him tearing across the wooden planks, striking down crew members with blunt, surgical force. He wasn't killing. Not yet. He needed them talking—especially their captain.
Screams rose into the air as pirates scrambled, blades drawn too slowly. One lunged with a harpoon. Ashen ducked, parried, and struck his shoulder with the flat of his blade, dislocating it instantly.
"Move faster," he muttered, almost to himself.
One of the pirates tried firing a flintlock. Ashen's body blurred forward again with Soru, then stopped abruptly as he activated Tekkai mid-step. The bullet struck his shoulder—and flattened harmlessly against his skin.
Tekkai (15% Efficiency)
He winced slightly—the technique still raw, not yet instinctual—but it worked. The pirate froze in shock as Ashen advanced, blade crackling faintly with the invisible trace of Busoshoku Haki. It hadn't fully awakened, but it responded more clearly with each fight. The sword hit like a battering ram, sending the pirate flying into a mast with a crash.
Then, the captain stepped out.
Lura Hookjaw was tall, broad-shouldered, with metal teeth and a jagged cutlass in each hand. She grinned as her crew lay broken around her.
"White-haired ghost, huh? You're the one who took down Dirk the Boil."
Ashen nodded once. "Surrender."
Lura roared and lunged forward.
She was fast. Faster than Dirk. Her twin blades spun in a savage dance as she pressed forward. Ashen met her swing-for-swing, his wakizashi clashing hard against her serrated weapons. Each strike sent sparks flying, and Ashen could feel his body responding—dodging tighter, striking with more clarity.
Her blades were coated with poison. A nick could mean death. But Ashen didn't give her the chance.
He ducked low, then used Soru mid-slash, teleporting past her and spinning back around in one fluid movement. His blade caught her leg, slicing across the calf. She staggered, cursing—but before she could retaliate, Ashen used Tekkai, hardening his forearm and blocking her full-strength swing without recoil.
A shock passed through his body. The Busoshoku Haki flared again—stronger this time. The air shimmered faintly around the edge of his blade.
One more cut.
Ashen lunged, striking her center mass with the butt of his sword hilt, cracking her ribs and sending her sprawling across the deck. Her cutlasses clattered against the wood. Ashen stood over her as she coughed blood, reaching for one last dagger.
He stepped on her hand.
"No."
---
By the time the Marines arrived—summoned by a flare Ashen launched after the fight—the Hookjaw crew had been chained together, bruised but alive. Ashen stood by the railing, unmoved, his hair fluttering in the wind.
The Marine officer blinked in disbelief. "All of them? Alone?"
Ashen said nothing.
"Who are you?" the man finally asked.
Ashen looked up. "Just a traveler."
He walked away before the man could say another word.
Ashen didn't stay to bask in the aftermath. Once the Marines had taken the Hookjaw Pirates into custody, he quietly reclaimed his vessel and slipped away into the morning mist. His senses were sharp, his muscles thrumming with residual energy. The spark of battle still danced along his nerves, and beneath it all, that slow, simmering growth—the feeling of something deep within responding to each clash.
Each confrontation dragged him further toward the threshold of something greater.
But with notoriety came danger.
Ashen was already charting his next path when he docked at a lesser-known island northeast of Loguetown, a trade hub known as Shellsbridge. It wasn't marked on most maps—more a floating merchant haven than a formal island town, made up of tethered barges and floating docks stacked with ramshackle market stalls. It was here that pirates, bounty hunters, traders, and even some Marines passed through for quick, under-the-table transactions.
Ashen was barely off the dock when he sensed it.
Not danger—something subtler. Presence.
His instincts whispered a warning. Someone was watching him.
---
He moved casually through the crowds, cloak drawn, eyes flicking over crates of smoked meats and ship supplies. A group of merchants were shouting prices in three languages. A pirate with a broken nose was drunkenly threatening a fruit vendor. Ashen ignored them all.
Until—
A figure blocked his path at the end of the pier.
Short, lean, and instantly recognizable: a young Marine with Blue hair and square glasses, clutching a notebook almost too large for his coat pocket.
Koby.(Not the Koby from the Series)
The boy's expression was wary but not hostile. He stood straight, despite the nervous tremble in his hands.
"You're... Ashen Veyr, aren't you?" Koby asked quietly.
Ashen raised an eyebrow.
"I don't recall giving my name to anyone."
"I saw you turn in the Hookjaw crew. And Dirk before that," Koby said. "Captain Smoker said to keep an eye out for a swordsman moving through the East Blue like a ghost."
Ashen didn't respond immediately. The crowd parted around them like water around a rock.
"He said you weren't a threat to civilians," Koby continued, "but that doesn't mean you're harmless."
Ashen studied him for a beat longer, then stepped past him.
"I'm not here for Marines. Or trouble. Just passing through."
Koby didn't stop him. But just before Ashen turned a corner, the boy added, "...If you're staying in the East Blue for long, you're going to cross paths with bigger names. The Grand Line is drawing attention."
Ashen paused at that.
Then kept walking.
---
He didn't have time to rest. The next target had already been located by his system: The Black Dagger Syndicate, a loosely affiliated pirate alliance attempting to sneak into the Grand Line through a small inlet east of Dawn Island. A collective bounty of 28 million—spread across four pirate captains and their crews.
Ashen's eyes narrowed as he reviewed the list. He was no longer just hunting pirates—he was preventing the East Blue from being used as a stepping stone by those seeking blood and chaos beyond.
It was a message. One loud enough for the world to start noticing.
And as the wind shifted and Ashen's ship left Shellsbridge behind, smoke trailed faintly along the horizon. From Loguetown. From Smoker's base.
---
In his office, Captain Smoker exhaled a long stream of smoke as Koby finished his report.
"He's methodical. Efficient. No signs of harming civilians. But he's no Marine, sir."
Smoker leaned back, the tip of his jitte resting against his shoulder. "That bounty hunter… no, traveler. He's got the air of something bigger."
"What should we do?" Koby asked.
"We don't do anything—yet," Smoker replied. "Let him keep carving up the trash. But if he crosses the line…"
His eyes narrowed.
"I'll test him myself."
---
The sea was choppy as Ashen adjusted the sail, his eyes focused on the trail of smoke in the far distance—smaller ships burning, masts shattered, black flags torn by the wind. The Black Dagger Syndicate had made landfall on a ring of unclaimed islets east of Dawn Island, using them as staging grounds to prepare their crossing into the Grand Line.
Four pirate captains. Dozens of men. Nearly thirty million in bounty between them.
Ashen didn't hesitate.
---
By nightfall, the first ship was in sight. A sleek, fast brig known as the Vulture's Spine, captained by a man named Rago the Carver—known for stringing the bones of his victims across his mast like trophies.
Ashen stood silently on the deck of his ship, watching the pirates below drink and shout near the beach bonfire.
He unsheathed his blade.
Then he vanished.
Soru—52% efficiency. Just enough.
He cut through the air like a whisper, appearing midair above the pirate crew before they could even react.
"Who—"
Steel flashed.
One slash dropped the lookout. Another sent Rago's blade flying from his hand before he could raise it. Panic erupted, but Ashen didn't give them time to regroup. His movements were a blur, slicing through the disorganized pirates like paper targets.
The battle lasted less than two minutes.
When it was over, Ashen stood in the center of a silent field of bodies, breath steady, blade unstained.
He exhaled slowly—and then it happened.
A ripple across his skin.
A sudden tightness in his frame. His muscles stiffened involuntarily as his body reacted to a strike that never landed—pure instinct responding to the heat of battle. His nerves felt wrapped in steel.
System Notification:
"Skill unlocked: Tekkai (Initial Form). Efficiency: 3%"
"Haki resonance detected. Busoshoku Haki (Dormant) has begun to stir."
Ashen's eyes widened slightly as he flexed his fingers.
So that's what it feels like…
It wasn't full mastery. Not yet. But something had awakened—something primal. A layer of power beyond raw strength and speed. A wall between him and injury, forged through sheer will.
He took the bounty tags from the corpses and moved on.
---
Over the next six days, the Black Dagger Syndicate crumbled.
Ashen struck like a ghost. One night, he sank Captain Hess's twin-masted cutter by slicing through the keel from underwater. The next morning, Thorne the Impaler tried to run him down with a dozen men wielding axes—and fled screaming when Ashen blocked all their attacks with Tekkai alone.
He fought with strategy, not just power—splitting crews, goading leaders, isolating lieutenants. Word of his campaign spread like wildfire across the East Blue. Rumors called him everything from a wandering swordsman to a World Government agent to a rogue Celestial Knight.
By the seventh day, the final ship—a refitted battleship under Captain Dregg—attempted to flee straight toward Loguetown.
Ashen cut them off personally.
---
On the open sea, as cannonballs flew and pirates screamed, Ashen leapt from mast to mast, his figure a blur of black and silver.
"Monster!" Dregg shouted, firing a flintlock that shattered against Ashen's temple—only for Ashen to turn his head, unscathed.
Tekkai shimmered faintly across his skin. He stepped in and struck the man's gut with the pommel of his blade, folding him in one blow.
Then silence.
The Black Dagger Syndicate was no more.
---
Ashen turned in the bounties to a stunned Marine outpost off the Conomi coast. The Marine clerk couldn't stop stammering as he counted over 31 million berries into sealed packs.
Ashen accepted them without a word.
Berry Remaining: 196,000 → 227,000
He was stronger now. Tighter. Sharper. His blade faster, his instincts honed. But more than that—his name was beginning to echo.
Which is why, when he returned to Loguetown, Smoker was waiting.
---
It wasn't a confrontation.
The white-haired Marine Captain stood in the middle of the market square, jitte resting across his shoulders, cigarette smoke curling into the air.
"I figured you'd come back," he said.
Ashen landed from the rooftop above with a quiet thud.
"I'm not your enemy," Ashen said simply.
"I know." Smoker cracked his neck. "But I need to know something."
He dropped into a stance.
"Just how far are you planning to go?"
Ashen smiled faintly.
"Far enough."
They moved at the same time.
---
Sparring Sequence: Ashen vs. Captain Smoker
The clash was nothing like Ashen's previous fights.
Smoker's movements were solid, powerful, practiced—a man who'd fought pirates for longer than Ashen had been alive. The jitte moved like a battering ram, imbued with skill and precision. Ashen dodged using Soru, vanishing and reappearing to counter—each strike faster than the last.
Smoker grunted as Ashen's blade kissed his coat sleeve.
"You're fast," Smoker muttered. "But let's see if that defense holds."
He threw a punch with a blast of smoke—not just elemental, but compressed air. It hit Ashen in the chest—and was stopped cold.
Tekkai engaged.
Damage: Minimal.
Ashen slid back, coughing once—but unbroken.
Smoker raised an eyebrow.
"Well, damn. You're not normal."
Ashen lowered his stance, the faint tingle of Busoshoku still buzzing under his skin like an ember waiting to ignite.
"Neither are you," Ashen replied.
They both stepped back.
"Enough?" Smoker asked.
"For now," Ashen said.
---
As they stood amidst the quiet square, surrounded by onlookers and whispers, Smoker took a drag from his cigar.
"Just remember something," he said, voice low. "This sea doesn't stay calm forever. And if you keep making waves—sooner or later, something big will come for you."
Ashen nodded once.
"I'm counting on it."
And then he was gone.
---
Ashen Veyr – Updated Stats (End of Chapter 9)
Strength: 6.2
Endurance: 6.5
Durability: 6.6
Agility: 6.8
New Skill Unlocked:
Tekkai (Initial Form) – 3% Efficiency
Haki Resonance:
Busoshoku Haki (Dormant)
Soru Efficiency: 52% → 55%
Berry: 227,000
-----------------------------------
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