AN: Thanks so much for the likes! Didn't expect anything tbh… so I appreciate it a ton. I'll be posting once or twice a week, but this chapter came earlier than expected. MC might come off a bit arrogant, but that will be tempered into confidence and experience soon enough. I have lots of plans, so stick with me for a bit.

Chapter Two: The Weight of Ambition

Draven clenched his fists in frustration, the knuckles turning white as he forced himself to remain calm. He could sense the potential of the power lying dormant within him, like a distant storm brewing on the horizon. It had saved him once, erupted from him in a moment of desperation. But now, in the calm of the jungle, it evaded him entirely.

His mind replayed the moment over and over—the surge of energy, the way the tiger had cowered before him, the absolute dominance he had felt in that split second. It had been instinctual, primal, beyond his control. And that's what gnawed at him most: the lack of control. He had tasted that power, but if he couldn't summon it at will, it was as good as useless.

He opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus. The jungle was alive with the sounds of insects and distant animals, oblivious to his struggle. The wind tugged at his hair, offering no answers.

Draven stood abruptly, his body aching from the hours of stillness. His muscles were still sore, the deep gashes from the tiger's claws having only recently healed. But even that wasn't enough to satisfy him. His rapid healing was a tool, a means to an end, but he needed more than just physical strength. He needed to master the force within him.

Another wave of frustration rolled through him. His fists clenched on his knees as he gritted his teeth. It had been weeks—weeks—of meditation and training, trying to summon the Conqueror's Haki at will. But nothing. Not a spark. The one time it had come out, it had been a raw, instinctual reaction, a surge of will that had burst forth when he was at death's door.

Now, he couldn't bring it back.

Damn it.

Draven's eyes snapped open, his gaze hard as he stared out at the jungle. For all his strength, for all the time he had spent pushing his body beyond human limits, this power—this one true sign of dominance—eluded him. And that gnawed at him.

He sighed, forcing himself to calm down. Frustration wasn't going to get him anywhere. He needed to think, to plan. If he couldn't control Conqueror's Haki yet, then fine. He would continue honing his body, continue training until it came to him naturally. His first real goal wasn't mastering that power anyway—it was getting off this island.

His mind drifted to the next steps, thoughts swirling like the wind around him. He had been on this forsaken jungle for two years, growing stronger, pushing his limits. But now, he needed more. He needed knowledge, resources, and most importantly, people.

Draven's eyes narrowed slightly as a name drifted into his mind. Nami.

The image of her filled his thoughts—her long orange hair, her curvaceous body, and those mesmerizing eyes. There was no doubt about it; Nami was beautiful. More than beautiful, he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips. He could practically picture her, dressed in one of her usual scant outfits, leaning over a ship's helm with a mischievous grin. She was cunning, resourceful, and a master navigator. The best in the world, if the future he remembered was correct.

But would she follow someone like him?

Draven knew the answer. No. Nami, as clever as she was, wouldn't willingly join a captain like him—someone ruthless and cunning, who sought power not for freedom or adventure, but for control. She valued her own freedom too much. She was no fool, and certainly not someone to be easily manipulated.

But that didn't matter to him. He wasn't just interested in her loyalty or her skills—though both were invaluable. He had set his sights on her. Nami was too important to let slip away to someone else's crew. Her navigation abilities, her cunning, and yes, her beauty—all of it was his to claim. Draven knew he had to find a way to manipulate the situation so that she would join him happily, willingly and without resistance. He would make sure she saw things his way, no matter what it took.

His thoughts wandered further. Robin.

A woman of a different caliber. Mysterious, intelligent, and deadly in her own way. While Nami had her wild, fiery charm, Robin had an allure that was cold and calculating—qualities that Draven found far more intriguing. She wasn't just another pretty face. Robin had knowledge that could shape the very world, the kind of knowledge that could make or break empires. If he had her at his side, the goals he had would never be beyond his grasp.

A dark smile tugged at his lips. He guessed he still had time. Luffy's journey, the Straw Hats, none of that seemed to have started yet. He was still young, only twelve, and from what he could remember, there might be a few years before the events of the story would unfold—if this world even followed the same timeline. But he wasn't certain. If he found out otherwise, he would adjust. For now, he had time—time to grow stronger, time to build his crew, time to take what he wanted.

Still, the thought of a child, just twelve years old, conquering the Grand Line was amusing. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine it—him standing on the deck of a ship, his enemies trembling before him, his Haki washing over the seas as he carved a path through the world. A boy with the power of a king.

But no. Draven shook his head. He wanted to be more than just strong. He wanted to be untouchable, overpowered, so that no one—not even the strongest pirates or the Navy—could stand in his way. The Grand Line was dangerous. He needed to be at his peak before he set his sights there.

First things first, he thought, his mind sharpening back to the present. A navigator. And a ship.

He glanced toward the horizon, where the sea stretched out beyond the jungle. Ships came by the island occasionally—merchants, pirates, even Marines. He would take one of them. He didn't care which. Whoever was unlucky enough to dock here next would lose their vessel.

But where would he go after that? Draven frowned. His knowledge of navigation was nonexistent. He could barely tell east from west out here, let alone navigate the seas. He would need someone who could guide him, chart the stars, and ensure he didn't end up stranded.

That brought him back to Nami. She was essential—more than just a desire, but a necessity. He could almost picture her standing on the deck of his ship, her hands gripping the helm as she steered them through the fiercest storms.

Draven's smirk grew darker. Yes, he would find her. He would take her from whatever miserable situation she was trapped in. He would give her a choice—join him or be dragged into his world whether she liked it or not.

As for Robin? He would have her too. The two beautiful and intelligent women would be on his crew—he would make sure of it.

Draven clenched his fists, feeling the calluses on his palms. This world had been handed to him in a way, a gift through his reincarnation. He wouldn't squander it. He had set his sights on Nami and Robin—two of the most beautiful and capable women in this world—and he would have them, just like he would take everything else this world had to offer.

With a final exhale, he rose to his feet, his frustration melting away as his mind shifted toward his next move. He needed to prepare. The next ship that docked on this island would be his ticket off this forsaken island, and his first step toward building an empire that would make even the most powerful Yonko tremble.

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Draven made his way through the jungle with long, confident strides as the dense foliage parted before him. The jungle, once a vast, untamed wilderness, had become nothing more than a training ground—a place to sharpen his strength and test his limits. But now, it was time to return to the village.

He hadn't been back in over two years, not since he had left the orphanage behind. He wondered what they would think of him now, with his body sculpted by battle, his tattered shorts barely hanging on to him, and his aura far removed from the boy he had once been.

As he approached the outskirts of the village, the stares began. People watched him with wide eyes, their mouths slightly agape as they took in his appearance. His skin was tanned, his muscles chiseled, and his wild, dark hair framed his face like a lion's mane. But it wasn't just his physical transformation that drew their attention—it was the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the air of danger.

He wasn't the same boy who had vanished into the jungle. They could see that at a glance.

Draven ignored their whispers and continued walking, his gaze set ahead. He had no interest in idle chatter. His destination was the orphanage, and more specifically, the woman who had raised him and the other children there.

The building came into view soon enough, its familiar walls a reminder of simpler times. The door creaked as he pushed it open, stepping inside to the scent of warm bread and the faint laughter of children. It was as if nothing had changed in his absence.

And then he saw her—Mother.

She stood near a wooden table, her back to him as she worked, kneading dough with strong, capable hands. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her figure—ample and soft in all the right places—drew Draven's eyes despite himself. She wore a simple dress, but it hugged her body in a way that left little to the imagination. A woman in her early 30s or 40s, with curves that any man would notice.

Even me, Draven thought, smirking to himself. His mind may have been hardened by survival and tempered in another life, but his body still belonged to a 12-year-old boy. A boy whose hormones were starting to stir.

"Mother," he called out, his voice low but clear.

She turned, her brown eyes widening in surprise as she took him in. "Draven?" Her voice held a mix of shock and disbelief. "Is that really you?"

"It's me," he replied, stepping forward. "I've been... training."

She blinked, her gaze sweeping over his body, taking in the tanned skin, the muscles, the wild look in his eyes. "You've... changed."

He grinned. "For the better, I hope."

Mother shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "You always were a handful. What brings you back here after all this time?"

"I came to see you," Draven said, his tone softening slightly. It wasn't entirely a lie. There had been a certain nostalgia in returning here, though it was driven more by practicality than sentiment.

She smiled at that, and for a moment, Draven allowed himself to feel a flicker of warmth. But he was here for more than just pleasantries.

"I need to ask you something," he said, his tone shifting back to business.

Mother raised an eyebrow, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"I need to leave the island," Draven began, choosing his words carefully. "But I don't know how to navigate the seas. I was hoping you might know someone in the village who could help me get to the Conomi Islands."

Her expression grew thoughtful as she considered his request. "The Conomi Islands? Why would you want to go there?"

"I have some... plans," Draven said vaguely. There was no need for her to know the details. "But I can't get there on my own."

Mother hesitated, glancing at him with a mix of concern and curiosity. "You've always been ambitious, Draven. But the seas are dangerous. Are you sure you're ready for something like that?"

He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I've been ready for a long time."

After a moment, she nodded, though the concern never left her face. "There is someone. An old woman in the village. She was a Marine once—i assume she would know her way around the seas. Retired, but she might be able to help you."

"Where can I find her?" Draven asked, his interest piqued.

"She lives near the edge of the village, by the cliffs. Her name's Captain Kaela. If anyone can help you, it's her."

Draven inclined his head in thanks. "I'll go see her then."

"Be careful," Mother called after him as he turned to leave. "She's sharp. And she obviously doesn't trust pirates."

Pirates? Draven chuckled to himself. He hadn't even set sail yet, and she was already making assumptions.

As he made his way to the old woman's home, the villagers' stares followed him, but he paid them no mind. His focus was on what lay ahead. Soon enough, he reached a small house perched near the cliffs, its walls weathered by the salty sea air.

Draven knocked on the door, and it opened moments later to reveal an elderly woman with a stern face and sharp, hawk-like eyes. Her hair was grey, pulled back into a tight bun, and despite her age, she carried herself with a strength that spoke of years of discipline.

"You're the boy they've been talking about," she said without preamble, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "The one who disappeared into the jungle."

"That's me," Draven replied, meeting her gaze evenly. "I hear you can navigate the seas."

"I can," the old woman said, her voice gruff but steady. "Why? You looking to set sail?"

"I am," Draven said, his voice calm but firm. "I need to get to the Conomi Islands, and I need someone to help me navigate."

She narrowed her eyes. "And why should I help you?"

Draven smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Because I'm strong. And I'll be someone worth knowing in the future."

Kaela snorted. "A cocky little brat, are we?" But there was something in her eyes—something calculating. "I don't just help anyone. If you want me to guide you, you'll have to do something for me."

"And what would that be?" Draven asked, his voice steady.

"You'll join the Marines," she said simply. "That's the only way I'll help you. You have potential. That much is obvious to see. But if you're not with us, you'll be running amok soon enough."

Draven kept his expression neutral, even as his mind raced. Join the Marines? He had no intention of doing anything of the sort. But he couldn't let her know that.

He smiled, giving her a nod. "Alright. I'll join the Marines."

Kaela's sharp eyes lingered on him for a moment, as if trying to see through the lie. But after a pause, she nodded. "Good. I'll help you then."

Inside, Draven's smirk widened. He had no intention of ever wearing a Marine uniform. But for now, he would play along.

After all, getting what he wanted was all that mattered.