Chapter 5: Iron Arm? I Only Know Astro Boy

Docked at Maple Leaf Island's port, the pirate ship flew a black flag emblazoned with a classic skull—and two skeletal arms wrapped in metallic gauntlets.

It belonged to the Iron Arm Pirates. Their captain, Cook, also known as Iron Arm Cook, hailed from the South Blue—strongest of the four seas—and carried a bounty of 20 million Berries.

Don't underestimate that number. The Great Pirate Era had only just begun, and most who took to the seas were still green rookies.

And this was just the first half of the Grand Line—by local standards, Iron Arm Cook was already a top-tier pirate.

Keep in mind, before entering the Grand Line, even the weakest sea—East Blue—had pirates averaging only 3 million in bounty. That's roughly the strength of 30,000 Choppers.

So with 20 million to his name, Cook would still be considered a standout rookie even in the infamous South Blue.

The moment their captain promised booze, food, and women before they even landed, the Iron Arm Pirates erupted into cheers.

Why did so many rush headlong into the seas after Roger's declaration? Aside from the legend he left behind, wasn't it mostly for wealth and fame?

Landing on an island and effortlessly plundering riches while indulging every dark desire—this kind of life was heaven for idle scoundrels and thugs alike.

Of course, to enjoy such freedom and luxury, one needed a prerequisite: to belong to a powerful pirate crew led by a captain strong enough to back them up.

And in the eyes of most Iron Arm Pirates, Cook was exactly that kind of leader.

Since setting sail, their crew had grown in the South Blue, escaping multiple Marine pursuits. Their reputation soared.

Cook even once sank a small Marine vessel with a single punch, earning both his nickname and bounty.

As their ship pulled into port, the sound of warning bells echoed from the island. Cook grinned with disdain.

"Alright boys, the welcome bells are ringing. Time to greet this island the Iron Arm way—show 'em who we are!"

At his command, the pirates revealed gleaming blades, grins wide and feral. They surged off the ship, ready to tear through the town.

But the few low-level pirates at the front barely made it past the dock before they saw something flicker before their eyes—and then found themselves looking at their own running bodies.

A single blade flash cut the air. With a spray of blood, three heads flew skyward.

Even in death, the slain pirates probably never understood why they could see behind themselves in their final moments.

"A welcome bell? Strange, all I hear is your funeral toll."

A figure stepped out from the opposing side—long black hair flowing in the breeze, one hand on his sheathed blade, the other still gripping a blood-dripping sword.

That figure was Wood.

Despite his youthful appearance, the sword in his hand spoke louder than words—he was not someone to be taken lightly.

The sudden, effortless execution of three comrades sent a wave of cold dread through the once-euphoric crew.

They'd looted many islands since coming to the Grand Line, and while resistance wasn't unheard of, it was rarely anything substantial—mostly farmers and villagers with pitchforks.

But this man had taken out three of their own in a single stroke. None had even seen him move.

He was no ordinary islander. Even the dumbest pirate could see that now—and none dared rush in foolishly.

"Well, well... didn't expect a little island like this to have someone like you."

Cook stepped forward, unimpressed. "But the world is a big place. If you think this little display gives you the right to talk down to me, Iron Arm Cook, you're sorely mistaken!"

Wood's performance had shaken up the lackeys, but not the captain. To Cook, cutting down three goons was child's play. If he wanted, he could punch through a dozen without breaking a sweat.

"Iron Arm Cook? Never heard of you. If you told me your name was Astro Boy, maybe I'd take you seriously.

But with a name like yours and that obvious background-character face, it's clear you're just cannon fodder."

Cook didn't catch all of what Wood said, but he got the gist. Usually, people reacted to his name with awe—something like: "So you're the infamous 20 million Berries Iron Arm Cook?!"

But Wood didn't follow the script.

He didn't know who this "Astro Boy" was, but being looked down on by some brat was too much to bear.

Initially, he had planned to let his first mate or a cadre member take care of Wood—but the boy's insults were too sharp.

With a loud metallic clang, Cook slammed his armored fists together, then leapt straight toward Wood.

Looking up at the towering figure, Wood sighed inwardly. The human height curve in this world was completely insane. He still didn't understand why ordinary humans here could grow to over two meters tall.

Back on Earth, his 190cm frame would've stood out. But now? Cook was easily around 2.5 meters.

Cook soared through the air, metal gauntlets glinting, and brought one down in a devastating punch aimed right where Wood stood.

BOOM—!

The ground exploded in a spray of dust and debris. A basketball-sized crater remained where Wood had just been standing.

But Cook's punch had connected with empty air—no satisfying crunch, no impact.

Before he could even growl in frustration, a gleaming arc of steel sliced through the sand-laden air, coming for his exposed neck—fast and lethal.

Wood had struck.