One Piece: Fishing System

Shooting Range – Navy Battleship

On a rack by the wall, rows of black powder long rifles were neatly arranged. Nearby, boxes filled with hollow lead bullets sat stacked on a table.

Beside them was a small pile of slim booklets. On their clean white covers was stamped:

"Basic Firearms Training Manual."

Trace took in the sparse crackle of gunshots and the faint scent of gunpowder as he walked over, picked up a manual, and carefully read it through—making sure not to skip a single step.

"First time here, kid?"

A deep, gravelly voice rumbled behind him.

Trace looked up from the booklet and turned toward the man who had spoken.

He was seated behind a desk near the weapon rack—probably in his thirties, average-looking at first glance. But the deep scars that crisscrossed his face gave his otherwise plain features a rather menacing air.

The "Justice" coat hanging behind him made it clear: this "scarface" was another instructor, just like Shuzo—specifically, the one in charge of firearms training.

"Yes, sir. First time," Trace replied respectfully, still holding the manual in hand.

"I haven't had much experience with guns, so I wanted to study the manual properly before trying anything. Better safe than sorry."

The instructor gave him an approving nod.

"Most of the 'little monsters' in the training camp don't care much for firearms," he muttered. "It's rare to see a careful rookie like you.

"Go ahead and practice. If you've got any questions, come ask."

"Thank you, Instructor!"

Trace gave a crisp salute, then reviewed the manual once more before grabbing a long rifle and a box of bullets and heading for the range.

The gun in his hands resembled a flintlock musket from his previous life.

However…

Even though the weapon looked like an old-fashioned front-loader, it could somehow be loaded with multiple rounds at once.

Which—based on how flintlocks actually worked—made no sense.

But then again, One Piece technology had always been notoriously inconsistent.

Trace only puzzled over it for a moment before letting it go.

He hadn't come to this world to be a science teacher, after all.

Loading the rifle, his hand brushed along the cool metal barrel.

He grinned slightly—like a kid who'd just been handed a new toy.

After playing with the barrel a bit, he finally raised the rifle, aimed at the target, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

Smoke burst from the muzzle, and the round shot hurtled downrange, slamming into the paper target.

"Six-ring hit!"

Trace lowered the rifle and checked the scoring monitor.

"Not bad for my first shot."

He raised the gun again and fired repeatedly, peppering the target:

Six-ring.

Six-ring.

Seven-ring.

Seven-ring.

His accuracy steadily improved. By the time he emptied the first box of bullets, most of his shots were clustered in the 8–9 ring zone—with a few even hitting dead center.

Grabbing a second box of ammo, Trace happily continued.

Then, after finishing that box too—

Ding! A system prompt appeared:

[Through repeated training, you've acquired an F-rank Trait: Close-Range Shooting]

[F-rank Trait: Close-Range Shooting]

[Effect: When making ranged attacks against targets within 10 meters, your accuracy is slightly increased.]

[Evaluation: "Stand firm, grip tight, barrel steady, aim straight!"]

"…Something about that description feels off," Trace muttered, frowning at the oddly motivational tone.

He ignored the goofy evaluation, tested the trait a bit, then grabbed another box of bullets and resumed practice.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

By the time the third box was empty, the trait's effect had upgraded to:

[When attacking targets within 10 meters, your accuracy is noticeably increased.]

Before lunchtime, Trace had burned through an impressive amount of ammunition—eventually pushing the trait to:

[Within 10 meters, your shots are exceptionally accurate.]

Now, ten shots would land eight times in the bullseye, two in the nine ring.

Ridiculously accurate.

Satisfied, Trace set the rifle down and left the range in a good mood.

The scar-faced instructor watched him leave, mouth twitching as he surveyed the mountain of spent casings.

"This kid just went through half a week's worth of ammo in a few hours…"

A pause.

"…But damn, he's got talent."

---

After finishing a 50-man portion of lunch in the mess hall—under the admiring gazes of nearby Marines—Trace calmly returned to the shooting range.

This time, he adjusted the challenge.

He swapped the 10-meter target for a 20-meter one.

Two more boxes of bullets later, a new prompt popped up:

[F-rank Trait: Mid-Range Shooting]

[Effect: Improves accuracy against targets between 10–20 meters.]

[Evaluation: Same as Close-Range, just further out.]

Just as the instructor expected Trace to go full try-hard again, Trace… packed up his gear and walked out.

Because—

It was fish-slaying time.

---

Ship's Kitchen – Food Prep Area

As Trace stepped into the kitchen like he had the past few days, the assistant cooks burst into cheers.

"Yo, Trace! You're back!"

"You wrecked Smoker today—so cool!"

"When are you taking the top spot in the camp?"

Many of them had witnessed his fight firsthand. The rest had heard the tale from their friends.

Either way, admiration for Trace was unanimous.

He answered their questions with a friendly smile, then walked to his usual station.

Like a robot, he picked up a cleaver and began chopping through sea beast flesh with clean, efficient strikes.

[You killed a Sea Beast – Overall Grade: F]

[You killed a Sea Beast – Overall Grade: F]

Two more heads fell.

The familiar kill notifications flashed in the corner of his system screen, followed by a new prompt:

[You have slain 50 F-rank sea beasts. You've gained a new F-rank Trait: Bottom Feeder Slayer]

[F-rank Trait: Bottom Feeder Slayer]

Effect:

[1. Familiarity with common sea beasts' habits and weak points.]

[2. Slightly increased damage against ordinary sea beasts.]

[Evaluation: "Wait—don't get me wrong. I'm not calling you out specifically. I mean everyone here is deadweight."]

Completely absorbed in his fish-prep work, Trace didn't even notice the new system message.

He did, however, feel his speed increase ever so slightly.

'Probably just muscle memory kicking in…'

The thought crossed his mind and quickly vanished.

---

It wasn't until he returned to his cabin that night that Trace noticed the new trait in his system log.

"No wonder I managed to clean 32 beasts today… guess this trait helped."

He pulled up his system panel.

All of his previous Victory Bait had been used up in earlier draws.

These 32 F-rank baits he had earned today were his entire stockpile—enough to fuse two E-rank baits.

"Should I fuse them and fish again?"

Trace hesitated.

In the end, he decided—no.

At least, not for now.

He already had plenty on his plate:

[Beast Breathing] required ongoing training.

[Smoke Form] needed more adaptation.

[Close-Range] and [Mid-Range Shooting] both needed refining.

He'd soon unlock Tekkai.

And eventually—Armament Haki.

Right now, what he needed wasn't more powers.

It was mastery.

Understanding this, Trace shut down the interface without fusing a single bait.

After a quick wash-up, he went straight to bed.

"Tomorrow, I'll officially enter the training camp…

"Mid-range practice, Tekkai drills, bait accumulation, Smoker's future rematch…

"A full and promising schedule—just the way I like it."