As the rebel army approached the royal palace, their leader a tall, broad-shouldered man suddenly halted.
He lowered his gaze to the infant in his arms, a chubby child who was gnawing curiously on his tiny fist, wide eyes full of innocent wonder as he stared back at him.
For several long seconds, the two father and son simply looked at each other in silence.
Then the man broke into a wistful smile and turned toward the elderly man standing beside him. "Osmon," he said quietly, "I need you to do something for me. Take care of little Eustace. If I don't make it out of that palace alive, you must leave this country with him. Change your names. Hide from the world. Raise him as your own and let him live a full life."
Osmon's expression grew heavy. He looked down at the infant nestled in the blanket, sighed deeply, and nodded. "Eustace… you're the son of a true hero."
As he accepted the child, Eustace senior gave one last, tender glance at the sleeping baby in Osmon's arms. His eyes softened with a father's love, but there was sorrow too.
He was the enemy of the nobles of Little Lia Kingdom the thorn they could never pluck out. To the starving and oppressed, he was a symbol of hope, a hero who had stood up against tyranny.
But now, in this moment, he was just a father a man who could not stay by his son's side to watch him grow.
"Clare," he whispered inwardly, "if you can hear me from heaven, please… protect our child."
Then, his gaze hardened with resolve. He handed Osmon the child and marched forward, leading the sea of desperate men and women he had gathered the poor, the forgotten, the broken. The air trembled as thousands of feet moved in unison toward the royal palace, their collective anger thundering across the land.
Within the palace walls, Liam Ross immediately felt the tremor through his heightened perception. His Observation Haki picked up the rhythmic vibration beneath the ground, and his brow furrowed.
Moments later, the sharp blare of a horn cut through the morning air.
"Enemy attack!" a guard captain shouted from the watchtower, his amplified voice echoing throughout the palace. "All units, prepare for battle! The rebels are here!"
Chaos erupted. Soldiers scrambled into formation, rushing to the walls and gates. Armor clattered, spears struck the ground, and the palace filled with a storm of shouts and orders.
Liam and his unit, still uncertain of what was happening, looked toward their superior.
Vice Admiral Arachnid known for his eight-sword style and spider-like limbs emerged from the great hall, accompanied by two rear admirals and the trembling royal ministers.
"Marines," he commanded in a cold, resonant voice.
Liam and the others saluted instantly.
"The Kingdom of Little Lia is under rebel attack. As Marines, we cannot allow chaos and injustice to spread. All units take positions on the walls. Eliminate the insurgents."
"Yes, sir!"
The Marines moved quickly, climbing the battlements. From his vantage point, Liam saw the approaching tide of rebels a thousand strong, armed with crude weapons and burning determination. Many were old men, others mere teenagers, all gaunt and hungry. Their faces bore the marks of hardship, but their eyes gleamed with unyielding conviction.
"They're not soldiers," Liam muttered softly. "They're survivors."
Within minutes, the rebels surrounded the palace.
At their center stood the tall, red-haired man Eustace, the leader of the uprising. His powerful frame and wild, unbroken gaze immediately drew everyone's attention.
Liam's eyes narrowed. "He looks… just like Eustass Kid."
Of course, that was impossible. Kid was a future pirate from the Grand Line, not someone from the South Blue. Still, the resemblance was uncanny. The thought flickered through Liam's mind Could this man be Kid's father?
Before he could dwell on it, the king appeared on the palace walls a portly man with a jeweled crown and a sneer of disdain.
"Eustace! What madness is this?" the king shouted. "You wretched peasants! The kingdom feeds you, shelters you, and yet you dare to rise against your sovereign? Traitors! You all deserve death!"
Liam raised an eyebrow. So that's the kind of ruler he is.
Below, Eustace's expression remained calm. "If you were a good king, Your Majesty," he said, voice booming with conviction, "we would never have rebelled. Your nobles drain the lifeblood of this nation, fattening themselves while our people starve. You enslave us, you kill those who protest, and you call it order."
He stepped forward, every word echoing across the courtyard.
"Your kind commits unspeakable acts nobles stealing young girls to feed their twisted pursuit of immortality, torturing them to death, drinking their blood like beasts! You call yourselves rulers, but you're parasites!"
The crowd of rebels roared in agreement. Even the Marines on the walls hesitated, shocked by his accusations.
Liam watched quietly, his mind sharp and calm. He had seen this before in every corner of the seas, corruption thrived under banners of power. It was a story that repeated itself across the world, and it always ended in blood.
"You're lying!" the king shrieked, his face turning purple. "How dare you slander the royal family!"
He turned to his guards, his voice trembling with fury. "Shoot him! Kill them all!"
"Fire!"
The air exploded with the crackle of gunfire.
Dozens of bullets tore through the sky, glinting in the sunlight as they rained down upon the rebels.
But Eustace didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked a grim, confident smile and raised his right hand.
Sparks of violet lightning burst forth from his palm, dancing across his skin.
The air around him seemed to hum with power as the bullets slowed, caught midair by an invisible force.
Liam's eyes widened slightly, the corner of his mouth curling upward. "Interesting," he murmured. "Looks like Kid didn't inherit that fire out of nowhere."
The battle for Little Lia had begun, and amidst the clash of ideals and power, one question burned brighter than any
What does it truly mean to be a hero?
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