Along Dressrosa's coast stood an abandoned warehouse.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the stench of cheap rum.
Roughly twenty men were gathered there—burly, scarred, and armed to the teeth with muskets and blades.
Some were gambling, others drinking, others boasting loudly about their exploits.
But these twenty were only part of the crew.
The slavers' organization numbered over fifty men in total, infamous in the surrounding seas for their cruelty and arrogance.
Their leader was a man known as "Evil Shark" Tuwindis, with a bounty of thirty-six million Berries—well-known among pirates and smugglers alike as a brutal, money-hungry monster.
"Damn it, lost again!"
One of the traffickers slammed his palm on the table, cursing his luck.
His bloodshot eyes flicked toward the corner of the room, where several figures were huddled together.
They were girls—young, barely past their teens.
Bound tightly with rope, mouths gagged with tape, they cowered in the corner, trembling, eyes red and swollen from crying.
"It's your fault, isn't it?" the man snarled. "You're cursing me in your hearts, that's why I keep losing!"
He stomped over, rage twisting his face, and began striking them—slapping, punching, kicking—pouring all his frustration onto the helpless captives.
"Hey! Don't go killing them," another trafficker called lazily. "If you break the goods, the boss'll make you pay for it."
He didn't bother saying more. He knew better than to waste breath on morality in a place like this.
Just then, the warehouse door creaked open again.
The drunk named Savvy, who'd staggered off earlier to drink alone, stumbled back in, reeking of liquor.
"Savvy! You're back! Come on, I'm on a hot streak tonight—I'll win all your money!"
"Forget gambling—hic!—let's drink! Drinking's way more fun!" Savvy slurred, wobbling toward the girls.
"Wait, hold up!"
He shoved the man who'd been beating them aside. "Don't hit 'em too hard! I've had my fill of rum, and I'm in the mood for something else. I'm picking one of these cuties to warm me up tonight. Can't have you ruining their pretty faces before I've had my fun."
"Fine, pick whoever you want."
Savvy smirked, his bleary eyes scanning the group.
Then he stopped.
His gaze fell on a girl with short pink hair, barely twelve or thirteen, dressed in a torn tracksuit. She was small, doll-like, with skin so pale it almost glowed in the dim light.
Her eyes were wide with terror. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head violently.
"Pretty little thing, aren't you?" Savvy said, voice dripping with lust. "Bit young, but I've never tried this flavor before. Wonder what you'll taste like…"
He reached out, grinning.
Creeeeak—
The warehouse door groaned open again.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
A boy stood there—no older than fifteen.
His expression was calm, cold, detached. His eyes, however, were sharp and predatory.
The traffickers frowned; the kid's face looked vaguely familiar, though none could place where they'd seen it before.
But there was no mistaking the look in his eyes.
He wasn't looking at them.
He was hunting them.
White Flame stepped into the room.
"You filth always find time for entertainment," he said softly, his voice like ice. "But never for anything decent."
"Where the hell did this brat come from?" one man barked. "You've got guts, kid, talking like that in our place!"
Every man in the room reached for his weapon—swords gleamed, muskets clicked.
For most people, the sight alone would've frozen their blood.
But to White Flame, these weren't men.
They were meat.
Fuel for his strength.
"You small fry make too much noise," he said coldly. "Tell your boss to come out."
One of the thugs laughed, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward. He was massive—built like a bear, towering a full head above White Flame.
"Kids these days… no manners at all. Guess I'll have to teach you how to talk to your elders."
He swung his fist.
BOOM!
White Flame moved first. His eyes flashed, his fist driving straight into the man's gut.
The air whooshed from the giant's lungs. His face twisted in agony as his knees buckled.
He collapsed, gasping, clutching his stomach as bile and blood dripped from his mouth.
White Flame looked down at him.
"With that kind of strength, you thought you could lecture me?" His tone was razor-sharp, calm but cutting. "Let me give you a lesson instead."
He leaned closer, voice low.
"Lesson one: when facing someone stronger… you look up."
The big man could only groan.
"What the hell—he dropped Big Head with one punch?!"
"Who is this kid?!"
"Doesn't matter! Kill him!"
Three more men charged at once.
White Flame's gaze flickered.
He lifted his leg.
CRACK!
His boot smashed into the big man's jaw, sending the two-meter-tall brute flying backward like a cannonball.
The human projectile slammed into the three attackers behind him, crushing them all against the warehouse wall.
The impact thundered through the empty space, rattling the beams above.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
White Flame slowly lowered his leg, exhaling a faint breath.
"Pathetic," he muttered.
The surge of power coursing through him was intoxicating.
After devouring so many souls through Little Black, his strength had become monstrous.
To him, these traffickers were nothing—
just trash waiting to be cleared away.
◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 3 reviews. comment
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 20 Power Stones.
Thank you for your support!