The once-glorious palace hall now lay in ruin.
Tables were overturned, silverware scattered across the marble floor. The golden inlays that once adorned the walls had been pried out, the ornaments stuffed into bulging sacks piled against the corners.
Upon the throne sat Newk, sprawled like a king of thieves—one hand clutching a wine glass, the other draped possessively around a trembling beauty. Nicola McCartney's lifeless body lay crumpled at his feet, his face twisted in eternal pain.
The woman in Newk's arms tried to avert her gaze, but her eyes kept darting back to Nicola's corpse. Tears brimmed as she fought desperately to keep them from falling.
Around the hall, the Newk Pirates reveled. They raised their cups high, sloshing wine across the floors, some spinning drunkenly into grotesque dances. Maids flitted between them, pale with fear, pouring wine with shaking hands. One girl could no longer endure—the tears she had held back broke free, and she sobbed aloud.
The joyous chaos shattered instantly.
Newk's smile vanished. He set his glass down with a dangerous calm and fixed his gaze on the trembling maid.
Before she could beg for mercy, a ball of mud shot from his hand, striking her face. The stench of wet earth filled her lungs—she convulsed once, then collapsed lifelessly to the floor.
No one flinched. The pirates only laughed louder, toasting with cruel delight. Some pulled the maids closer, whispering lewd warnings:
> "Obey if you want to live."
The once-noble hall had become nothing more than a pirate's playground.
"Drink! Eat your fill!" Newk roared, laughter rumbling from his chest. "When we're done, we'll crush the Marine branch here! The New World belongs to us—the Navy has no place meddling in our waters! We, the Newk Pirates, rule the Nier Kingdom! I… am your King!"
"Hahahahaha!"
The pirates echoed his mad laughter, their revelry shaking the palace walls.
Newk tipped his glass back, gulped it empty, then slammed it against the table before the terrified woman in his arms. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, drifted down to her chest as he snarled,
"Pour. More. Wine."
She hurried to obey, hands trembling as she filled his cup. Newk licked his lips, seized her wrist, and began dragging her away—
"H-huh? Why's it so cold all of a sudden?"
A pirate near the gate shivered. Before he could rise for a cloak, a breath of frost swept across the floor, tendrils of white creeping swiftly into the hall.
And then—they appeared.
Two figures, strangers, standing amidst the frost.
The first was tall and lean, expression glacial. A round hat shaded his eyes, and behind his sunglasses, his breath misted like fog. One leg had already crystallized into ice, frost crawling outward with every step.
Beside him stood a red-haired boy. A long sword gleamed at his side, his face sharp and handsome, crimson markings stretching from his forehead to the corners of his eyes. He lifted his gaze toward Newk on the throne, his expression cold as stone.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Newk froze, releasing the woman's wrist. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon the insignia emblazoned on the tall man's cloak.
"…Marines?"
And then he laughed. A harsh, barking sound.
"Hahaha! So quick! That wench who escaped must've tattled! I was going to hunt you down myself, but you've saved me the trouble!" He leaned forward, grin widening. "What's this? Only two of you? Where are the others? Come on out—I'll kill you all in one go!"
Newk's confidence dripped from every word. He had slain countless Marines before. Why should these two be any different?
"How arrogant."
The tall man—Aokiji—spoke at last, voice hoarse with restrained fury. His Observation Haki had already revealed the horror that unfolded here: the corpses littering the vestibule, the slaughter within these walls.
And beside him, Tsugikuni Yoriichi had already judged the pirate king guilty.
Aokiji's chill deepened, ready to strike—but Yoriichi stepped forward. His blade lifted, its tip aimed squarely at the throne.
"Kuzan," he murmured, his voice steady as steel, "your methods are too merciful for filth like him."
"Let me."
Newk blinked, then threw his head back and howled with laughter.
"Hahaha! You? A brat with a sword? Do you even know who I am? I ate the Mud-Mud Fruit! Blades, bullets—they can't touch me! Hahaha! Go on, try it! Cut me down if you dare!"
His words had barely left his lips before thunder cracked through the hall.
Yoriichi vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he stood before the throne—his blade already in motion.
Newk's grin froze. His vision blurred—tilted upward—then plummeted down. For an instant, he saw Yoriichi's unflinching eyes before confusion struck him:
Why am I looking… down at my own body?
Panic clawed at his fading consciousness.
I… I can't die. Not to some brat… not like this…
But it was already over.
Lightning Breathing—First Form: Thunderclap Flash.
With speed bolstered by Shave, his blade hardened with Armament Haki, Tsugikuni Yoriichi cleaved cleanly through the pirate's defenses. Newk's body toppled to the floor, headless.
Yoriichi exhaled softly, flicking the blood from his sword before sliding it back into its sheath.
"Old habits die hard," he muttered. "That was… brutal."
The pirates froze in disbelief.
"C-Captain…"
"Captain Newk!"
"He's… dead?!"
Their voices broke into screams of panic. A Logia user, untouchable by steel or shot, cut down in a single stroke—unthinkable. Their drunken bravado shattered, and terror seized them. One by one, they bolted for the hall's entrance.
"Ice Age."
Aokiji moved at last. His arms stretched outward, unleashing a surge of biting cold. Frost swept across the floor like a tidal wave, encasing every fleeing pirate in an instant. Their faces were frozen in masks of terror, immortalized in ice.
BOOM!
The palace shook violently as a thunderous voice bellowed from outside:
"Kuzan! Yoriichi! Where are you?!"
The vestibule exploded inward, an overwhelming gale tearing through the gates. The frozen statues of pirates shattered, bursting into glittering shards beneath the hurricane's force.
Aokiji sighed, raising an ice wall to shield himself and Yoriichi from the storm.
At his side, Yoriichi stood silently, his sword at rest. He exhaled, a faint trace of disappointment in his eyes.
Such reckless destruction, he thought. What a waste of talent for the Navy.
---
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