The days blurred together, each marked by the rising sun and the persistent ache of his battered frame. Lupin woke every morning aboard a different vessel — merchant ships, smugglers' boats, and tiny fishing skiffs — slowly making his way from the North Blue toward the Grand Line. Every dawn brought a new port, a different deck beneath his feet, and the same relentless notification from the System.
[DING.]
[Daily Quest: Physical Rehabilitation and Conditioning]
Objective: Complete designated physical training regimen.
Reward: 10 Edit Points
Progress: 0/30
The first week was a slow kind of hell.
His body, still in recovery from critical injuries, screamed with every movement. Muscles tore and ached, his lungs burned with every set, but Lupin gritted his teeth and pressed on. Push-ups on creaking decks, sit-ups in cramped cabins, sprints along jagged coastal cliffs whenever the ships docked on remote islands.
He wasn't starting from nothing. Once, as Rosinante, he'd held the rank of Marine Commander — a soldier of the World Government, trained in advanced combat, firearms, espionage, and survival. The instincts were still there, buried deep in his muscle memory: the way his hands gripped a blade, the reflexive pivot of his stance, the sharp precision in every strike.
It wasn't weakness that held him back. It was the damage.
And every day, bit by bit, he reclaimed what was already his.
The System didn't offer shortcuts. No hints. It simply recorded his progress and tossed him Edit Points like breadcrumbs leading toward some distant, hazy finish line.
He needed those points. Already, he'd spent his first ten to raise Doflamingo's bounty to five hundred million, a move that sent the underworld into a frenzy and forced the man to abandon his Spider Miles base.
A small victory. But nowhere near enough.
Lupin knew his true test lay in the New World — where monsters reigned, and the Yonko ruled the seas with fleets, armies, and territories. The monthly quest timer ticked away in the corner of his mind.
[Monthly Quest: "Shadow in the Emperor's Court"]
Objective: Create a secret identity and infiltrate the crew of a Yonko.
Time Remaining: 29 Days
He'd chosen Whitebeard.
Not because it would be easy — but because it was the right move. Whitebeard's crew valued loyalty, strength, and heart above all else. If he could prove himself there, he could secure a place within the greatest pirate family of the era.
But first, he needed a body worthy of surviving in that world.
By the second week, his movements had grown sharper. The pain dulled into a deep, satisfying soreness. His muscles knit themselves back together, stronger than before. His stamina stretched with every run, his strikes grew heavier against makeshift training dummies — sacks of rope, bundled cloth, and, when he could, cocky drunks in taverns.
Each completed quest added another 10 Edit Points to his total. He hoarded them carefully, resisting the urge to spend them on petty advantages.
The System shifted the regimen often: one day focusing on speed, the next on strength, then flexibility and combat drills. It was brutal, unforgiving — and it worked.
[DING.]
[Daily Quest Completed.]
[Reward: 10 Edit Points]
[Edit Points: 90]
By the end of the second week, the limp was gone. The wounds that had once come so close to killing him had faded to faint scars. His reflexes sharpened. He scavenged a cutlass and stole a pistol to begin weapon drills in earnest.
"Not bad, old man," Lupin muttered one evening, studying his reflection in a cracked mirror aboard a weathered fishing boat. The bruises had faded. His eyes were clear. His frame lean and hard from relentless labor.
But the face unsettled him. The remnants of Corazon's old makeup clung faintly to his skin — a ghost of a life that felt so far away. He stared for a long while, then picked up a cloth and wiped it away. Layer by layer, the pale foundation and smeared heart-shapes vanished.
Not Rosinante. Not anymore.
He gathered what little he could — an old dye kit, a pair of rusted scissors, a piece of glass for a mirror. His blond hair darkened to jet black, the color soaking in like ink over parchment. He cut it shorter, rough and uneven but practical.
He tore a strip from a dark cloth and fashioned a half-mask, covering his mouth and jaw. When he looked in the mirror again, the man staring back wasn't a Marine Commander or a government agent.
It was Lupin.
Importantly, Rosinante had never carried a bounty. As an undercover Marine, few even knew his face. No wanted poster, no record. That anonymity was a weapon now — one he intended to sharpen.
The third week brought a new challenge: his first step into the Grand Line.
He secured passage aboard a merchant vessel bound for Reverse Mountain, navigating the treacherous ascent and descent. The crew eyed him warily but didn't question the coin he offered. When they finally emerged into the Grand Line, Lupin felt the salt-heavy wind in his lungs and the quiet thrill of survival.
But this was only the beginning.
His destination lay in the New World.
Which meant he had to reach Sabaody Archipelago, pass beneath the Red Line through Fish-Man Island, and emerge on the other side.
Whitebeard's fleet didn't recruit openly in the Grand Line. New division members and hopeful pirates gathered at Sabaody or scattered lawless islands skirting the border of the New World.
He changed his course immediately, securing passage on another vessel bound for that region.
Every morning, the System demanded more.
Heavy bag strikes for twenty minutes. Shadow spars against imagined enemies. Weighted laps around the deck. Hundreds of push-ups, squats, and crunches.
He hired mercenaries and drunks in seedy port towns as sparring partners. The fights were ugly, unpolished — perfect.
By now, his Edit Points had climbed to 180.
He spent a few, subtly altering local wanted posters. Lowering the nonexistent bounty on Rosinante. Planting rumors in taverns. Small, careful edits to keep eyes off his trail.
Each night, he reviewed what he remembered about the Grand Line. The Yonko. Devil Fruits. Legendary islands. Planning routes. Contingencies. Backup plans for backup plans.
The quest timer ticked down.
[Time Remaining: 9 Days]
In the final week, he was reborn.
His body no longer felt alien. The man in the mirror was sharp-eyed, his stance steady, his frame lean and powerful. Muscle earned through pain. Reflexes honed by desperation. And beneath it all — the lethal edge of a former Marine Commander, forged through blood and fire.
His health bar gleamed in the System's display.
[Status: Fully Recovered]
[Daily Quest Completed: 36/30]
[Edit Points: 360]
And now, he had a bounty of his own.
Black Rose, Lupin
40 Million Berri
An alias with no ties to the Donquixote family, no hint of Rosinante.
He scouted taverns and ports, listening for word of any recruitment voyages headed for Sabaody or Fish-Man Island.
Word came of a ship setting sail from an island south of Water 7. Pirates seeking passage through the underwater route to the New World.
Perfect.
He boarded a merchant vessel bound for that region under cover of night, paying with stolen coin. His destination: the Sabaody Archipelago.
The final quest appeared as the ship set sail.
[Special Daily Quest: Journey to the New World]
Objective: Reach Sabaody Archipelago and secure passage toward Fish-Man Island.
Reward: 50 Edit Points
And every day, without fail, he pushed himself. Strength drills on the deck at dawn, running laps around the hold, sparring with the mast's shadow by lamplight.
The System's rewards climbed with every completed task.
And as the shimmering bubbles of the Sabaody Archipelago appeared on the horizon, Lupin's muscles ached with anticipation.
He was ready.