At the G-10 naval base, Vice Admiral Garp and Rear Admiral Roca chatted idly in the reception room.
Meanwhile, Tsugikuni Yoriichi and Aokiji kept their distance. After so many days in the New World, the naval officers were worn down by fatigue—even if they tried not to show it.
Garp, recognizing the exhaustion, assigned Aokiji to oversee supply replenishments and granted the officers and soldiers a rare day of rest. Once the resupply was complete, they were free to roam.
For once, Yoriichi also set aside his relentless training. Even he needed to breathe. Seizing the chance, he joined Aokiji for a walk through the bustling streets of the Nier Kingdom.
The marketplace overflowed with life. Merchants barked out prices, children darted between stalls, and the aroma of spiced bread and roasted meat filled the air.
"Wow, it's lively," Yoriichi murmured, taking it all in. "This isn't what I imagined the New World to be like."
He had expected nothing but chaos—pirates running rampant, cities in ruins. After all, he had seen King Luffy's journey, marred by injustice and tyranny. Pirates were supposed to be the ruling force of the seas. Yet here, the Nier Kingdom's order and prosperity surprised him.
Aokiji gave a small shrug. "The New World isn't all fire and smoke. There are pockets of stability like this. But…" His eyes hardened, voice lowering, "…behind prosperity, there are always shadows."
He had no fondness for kingdoms like Nier, whose order was bought with compromise.
Yoriichi, oblivious to the kingdom's hidden dealings, smiled faintly. "Still, it takes some skill to hold a country together in a world like this. I'd say the king is doing well."
"Who knows?" Aokiji said, brushing off the subject. Spotting a food stall, his mood lightened. "Oi, Yoriichi—their flatbreads are good. The filling's made with local fruit. Want to try?"
"Fruit filling?" Yoriichi raised a brow.
"Trust me."
"I don't have any money," Yoriichi replied with mock seriousness. "You're paying."
Aokiji smirked. "Fine, fine."
The two drifted toward the stall, savoring the scent of sizzling bread, unaware that, in the royal palace at the heart of the island, events were already spiraling into darkness.
---
King Nicola McCartney, clad in a lavish gown, raised his goblet high in welcome.
"Hahaha! Guests, you honor us tonight. Captain Newk, welcome to the Nier Kingdom! A toast!"
The banquet glittered with excess: satin tablecloths, polished silverware, and beautiful maids pouring fine wine with practiced grace.
At the king's right sat Newk, captain of the Newk Pirates—a hulking man with a scarred jaw and eyes that gleamed with menace. His bounty had already reached 200 million. Though a newcomer to the New World, he had made his name by crushing rival pirate crews and preying on merchant ships across the North Sea.
Newk lifted his glass, grinning. "Your Majesty, your hospitality is too generous. I almost feel guilty."
Then, with a sly glance at the maid beside him, his lips curled. "But truth be told, I came tonight with a favor to ask."
Nicola's smile wavered, though he hid it well. "And what might that be, Captain Newk? If it lies within my power, I'll help. If not, I have friends among the Whitebeard Pirates, even contacts at Navy Headquarters. Whatever you need, I'll see what I can do."
Instead of answering, Newk seized the maid beside him, dragging her roughly into his lap. Her cries cut through the hall as his hand tore at her collar.
"Stop!" Nicola thundered, his mask of civility cracking. "Captain Newk, I've treated you with honor. What is the meaning of this?!"
Newk looked up, his grin widening into something cruel. "Meaning? It's simple, Your Majesty. My crew and I are tired of drifting. The sea grows dull. We want land. We want comfort. The Nier Kingdom is… nice." His eyes swept over the terrified maid. "And the women? Very nice."
Laughter exploded from him, echoing through the hall. At once, his men rose, blades drawn, filling the chamber with steel and menace.
Nicola's heart sank. He had suspected ill intent the moment the pirates entered the palace, but he had hoped his mention of Whitebeard and the navy would deter them. Clearly, Newk feared neither.
Forcing calm, Nicola plastered a smile back on his face. "Such a… small request. Of course. I'll gift you a manor. A fine estate to house you and your crew. Lay down your weapons, drink, and let's celebrate."
But Newk shook his head slowly. His grin sharpened. "A manor? No, no. Your palace will do nicely. That's what I want."
Even as the words left his mouth, the ground beneath him liquefied into sludge. Mud spread like a living tide, creeping across the floor, swallowing chairs, table legs, and the boots of terrified nobles.
Nicola gasped as it surged around his feet, climbing, hardening into a pillar that bound him in place. He struggled wildly, but the mud clung tighter, pulling him under.
Within seconds, his movements slowed, then stopped altogether. The pillar collapsed, dropping his lifeless body onto the banquet table with a sickening thud. Wine spilled across satin, mingling with foul mud.
The hall fell silent.
Then Newk laughed.
"Eh—hahahaha!" His crew joined in, the sound like a pack of jackals.
"If you had left," Newk jeered, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure, "I'd be heartbroken. They say your wife and daughter are beauties, King. Don't worry—I'll take good care of them."
The laughter swelled, drowning the chamber in dread.
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(End of Chapter)..