Magus
patreon
Chapter 8: Young People Sleep Like Babies
🕑 Added 2025-08-19 08:29:08 +0000 UTCThe ship had been sailing across the boundless ocean for several days.
Young bodies have amazing recovery power, and with plenty of food and drink these past few days, the wound on Kyle's ribs had completely healed. He felt more energetic than ever before.
Every day, watching Roger either laughing heartily at the bow facing the wind, arm wrestling with Rayleigh (usually ending with Roger cheating), or humming tuneless songs—that vitality that seemed ready to overflow from the deck also ignited some kind of longing in Kyle's heart.
This afternoon, the sunlight was perfect and the sea breeze gentle.
Roger had just finished off a large piece of roasted sea beast leg and was picking his teeth, looking completely satisfied.
Rayleigh leaned against the mast, polishing his seemingly ordinary but inwardly sharp cutlass.
Kyle flexed his muscles, feeling the power surging within his body. Unable to contain himself any longer, he walked up to Roger with burning eyes.
"Captain!"
Roger lazily looked up: "Hmm? What's up, little Kyle? Hungry?"
"Fight me, Captain!" Kyle's voice wasn't loud, but it carried the fearless momentum of a newborn calf. He desperately wanted to know the gap between himself and Roger.
Roger's tooth-picking motion paused, then he burst into his trademark laughter: "Guhahahaha! Interesting!"
Hearing this, Rayleigh stopped polishing his sword. Behind his glasses, his gaze carried a hint of amusement as he looked over, clearly also interested.
The deck was quickly cleared of space.
Kyle took a deep breath and assumed a fighting stance.
He knew there was a world of difference between himself and Roger, but it was precisely this gap that fired up his competitive spirit. He wanted to know how many moves he could last against the future Pirate King at full strength.
"Let's go, Captain!"
Before his words finished, Kyle's figure flickered slightly.
"Light Mirage!"
The air twisted with light, like ripples on water. The next moment, three identical Kyles appeared on the deck!
Each emanated the same aura, and even their facial expressions were identical—impossible to tell which was real.
The three "Kyles" formed a triangle, simultaneously charging at Roger in the center from three different directions with the sound of rushing wind!
The left Kyle delivered a knife-hand strike toward Roger's neck, the right Kyle kicked fiercely at Roger's lower body, while the Kyle in front clenched both fists, preparing to unleash a shock punch.
This was the best way he could currently think of to combine the deceptive and offensive aspects of "Light Mirage." Even if only one was real, the other two illusions could effectively distract the opponent and create opportunities for his real body.
Roger! Can you handle this punch backed by thirty years of physics knowledge?
Facing this sudden multi-directional attack, Roger just stood there lazily picking his nose, not even changing his smile much—only a flash of approval in his eyes.
"Wow, amazing!"
Just as the three "Kyles'" attacks were about to connect, Roger moved.
His movement wasn't fast—in fact, it could be called extremely simple.
No dodging, no blocking.
He just casually raised his right hand and threw a lazy hook punch at the nearest Kyle—the one attacking from the front.
"Thud!"
A muffled sound.
"Poof—!"
The light-shadow clones instantly scattered. Kyle felt an indescribable, tremendous force hit his abdomen, his vision spun, and his mind went blank.
Did I... just get unlucky again?
One "amazing" after another, one punch, one small fry—Roger, you bastard...
Kyle's body arched backward like a cooked shrimp; his feet left the ground, then he collapsed limply on the deck, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out cold.
The entire process was lightning-fast, too quick for anyone to react.
One second, there were three Kyles aggressively surrounding Roger; the next, there was just one Kyle lying on the ground in baby-like sleep.
The deck fell silent except for the "whoosh" of sea wind through the canvas.
Roger retracted his fist and shook his hand as if just brushing off some dust.
He looked down at the unconscious Kyle and grinned: "Guhahahaha! Youth is great—sleep like a baby!"
Rayleigh slowly walked over, glanced at Kyle curled up unconscious, and a helpless smile tugged at his lips: "Looks like he won't wake up before dinner. Roger, you still don't know your own strength."
"Guhahahaha! Little Kyle's tough!" Roger laughed carelessly, bent down to pick up Kyle like a chicken, casually threw him over his shoulder, and said, "Come on, Rayleigh, let's see if we can catch something big for dinner today!"
...
The rich aroma of meat acted like an invisible hook, gradually pulling Kyle out of unconsciousness.
He opened his eyes to see the setting sun's afterglow streaming through the porthole, casting warm orange-red patches in the swaying cabin.
His stomach was completely empty and rumbling. Dull pain lingered in his ribs and belly from Roger's knockout punch, reminding him of that afternoon's pathetic "duel."
"Ugh..." Kyle groaned, holding his forehead as he sat up. Good, good—he hadn't transmigrated again.
"Yo, awake?" Roger's booming voice came from outside the cabin, filled with undisguised amusement.
Kyle steadied himself against the wall and wobbled out of the cabin.
On deck, a bonfire blazed brightly with an unknown golden-brown sea bird roasting over it, giving off an enticing aroma. Roger held a dagger, boldly cutting off chunks of roasted meat and stuffing them in his mouth, eating with grease running down his chin.
Rayleigh sat nearby, elegantly cutting meat on his plate with a small knife—a stark contrast to Roger's crude style.
"Guhahahaha! Perfect timing, little Kyle! Today's dinner is premium grade!" Seeing Kyle emerge, Roger waved him over and pointed to an empty wooden crate by the fire.
Kyle's stomach growled even louder. Not being polite, he walked over and sat down, taking the knife and fork Rayleigh handed him.
Starving, he didn't care about appearances and followed Roger's example, tearing off a large piece of bird leg with his hands and taking a big bite.
"Mmm... so good!" The meat was tender with a light fruity smoke flavor—the most delicious thing he'd eaten since transmigrating.
After devouring most of the roasted bird, his hunger finally subsided. Kyle burped contentedly, then remembered that afternoon's humiliating punch.
He put down the bone he'd gnawed clean and looked at Roger, who was picking his teeth with a satisfied expression.
"Captain," Kyle's tone was complex—containing awe, unwillingness, and mostly intense curiosity, "that punch this afternoon... what exactly happened? I clearly used 'Light Mirage' and attacked from three directions simultaneously..."
He still couldn't figure out how Roger had instantly locked onto his real body and knocked him unconscious with such a casual punch.
Roger paused his tooth-picking, glanced at him, and grinned: "Oh? That?" He held up the fist that had punched Kyle, waved it in front of his face, then said in a "isn't this obvious?" tone: "Just went 'bam' like that, and you fell asleep! Guhahahaha!"
Kyle's mouth twitched: "I mean... how did you do it?"
"Hmm..." Roger rubbed his chin, seeming to think seriously. After a moment, he slapped his thigh: "Probably because you had too many openings, kid? Those three shadows made my eyes dizzy, so I just picked the most pleasing one to punch. Didn't expect to guess right! Luck, pure luck! Guhahahaha!"
You call that luck?! Kyle almost spat blood. This humble-bragging answer was more hurtful than direct mockery of his weakness.
Rayleigh put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and spoke with amused eyes behind his glasses: "Roger just didn't want to waste extra effort distinguishing your illusions. For him, attacking any of them would be the same."
Kyle: "..."
That's brutal, Rayleigh-san!
Roger laughed triumphantly: "Rayleigh gets it! Little Kyle, your Devil Fruit ability is decent and your ideas are pretty good, but you're still far from ready!"
Kyle was speechless, his cheeks burning. Though it was the truth, hearing it stated so bluntly by the future Pirate King was still crushing.
He'd originally thought that with his Wave-Wave Fruit abilities, he should be among the elite of his peers. He never expected he couldn't even last one move against Roger.
A strong sense of defeat washed over him, but what followed was an even more surging fighting spirit.
"Captain!" Kyle suddenly stood up, his gaze determined. "Please teach me how to become stronger!"
Both Roger and Rayleigh looked at him with some surprise.
Roger studied Kyle with interest, those deep eyes flickering with an indescribable light. He put down his toothpick and grinned—a smile containing both teasing and... approval.
"Guhahahaha! Very spirited!" Roger stood up and walked over to Kyle.
"Want to get stronger?" Roger extended his fan-like hand and heavily patted Kyle's shoulder, making him stagger. "Good!"
He suddenly withdrew his hand, put his hands on his hips, and announced in a tone declaring something momentous: "Since you're so motivated, starting tomorrow, Rayleigh and I will personally guide your training!"
"Guhahahaha! Don't come crying or begging for mercy, little Kyle! And try not to die accidentally!" Roger laughed extremely boisterously, as if already foreseeing Kyle being trained to death.
Kyle swallowed hard, looking at Roger's expression of chaotic excitement, then at Rayleigh's calm "you're on your own" expression, feeling a chill run from his tailbone straight to the top of his head.
"Y-yes, Captain!" Despite sensing the rocky road ahead, Kyle still gritted his teeth and responded loudly.
