One Piece: From White Town to the World Throne!
Author: Faceless Desolation
Chapter 1: The White Town
"No! You can't do this!"
"Please, please, spare these poor children!"
"Didn't you say you'd let us go!? YOU EXECUTIONERS! YOU DEVILS! HEAVEN WILL PUNISH YOU—"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. The nun, driven to despair by deceit, collapsed into a pool of blood.
"Stop whining. Did you really believe everything I said? Hahahaha! If I hadn't lied, would you have brought all these kids straight to our doorstep? Saves us so much trouble! Hahaha…"
"I'm not afraid to tell you—our orders are to spare no one in this country. Other than your king, who ran off with the royal family like a stray dog, everyone left here, including the old and the children, must die!"
A soldier nearby frowned. "Simon, you've said too much."
"What's there to fear? They'll all be dead soon anyway. Dead people don't talk."
"Fire! Kill them all!"
The soldiers grinned, lifting their guns and unleashing a storm of bullets.
The last thing the dying nun saw was the line of children falling one after another.
The moment she heard their desperate, helpless cries, tears of regret streamed down her cheeks as she sank into eternal darkness.
"…sorry…"
Even at the end, she never saw salvation descend with compassion upon these poor souls.
Only despair remained.
…
In September, Year 1506 of the Sea Calendar, Flevance in the North Sea was destroyed by a neighboring kingdom during wartime. The "White Town" burned in a massive fire.
Throughout the catastrophe, neither the World Government nor the Navy made any attempt to intervene.
The only survivors known at the time were the former royal family of Flevance, who had contacted the World Government early, abandoned their country, and managed to flee.
Yet faintly, through the dark clouds, a thin ray of sunlight seemed to pierce the despair.
…
Although the White Town of Flevance had been destroyed, the cleanup continued.
The corpses, especially those that hadn't been completely burned, needed to be dealt with. If left unattended, plague would become the first vengeful flame of the "White Undead."
So the bodies were hauled to the border of Flevance, waiting for fuel to arrive so they could be burned together.
Mountains of corpses stacked high—like a scene straight out of hell.
Most people would suffer nightmares for days from a single glance.
Even the soldiers assigned to transport bodies refused to linger. After each delivery, they left immediately, staying as far away as possible from this ominous graveyard.
After all, what was the point of guarding corpses? It's not like they'd get up and run away.
But in the silence, several corpses began to shift—unnatural, eerie movement.
Thud…
Huff… huff…
Bodies tumbled aside as a blood-soaked, emaciated figure crawled out from underneath, gasping for breath as if he had nearly suffocated.
Then a nauseating mixture of blood, decay, and unspeakable stench filled his nose.
"Urgh… UGH!"
He vomited violently. When he finally saw his surroundings clearly, the convulsions intensified.
"So there really is a hell after death… and it's this terrifying…"
"No… this isn't hell. This is Flevance. And my name is Gustavus… Abel."
After Abel retched until he couldn't anymore, memories from two lives finally fused together.
In his previous life, he had been a self-made, relatively successful young entrepreneur.
By the age of thirty, with a bit of help from his parents-in-law, he had already earned several small fortunes.
To prove he wasn't a gigolo, he devoted himself to his company. One night, after a long day of work, fatigue led to a car accident.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in purgatory.
And the body he possessed was utterly unfortunate.
His new name was Gustavus Abel, born in Flevance, a beautiful and prosperous region in the North Sea.
He had lived a happy, comfortable life; his parents were well-known local merchants with considerable wealth.
He received good education, was outgoing and generous, and inherited his parents' excellent genes—handsome, popular, and well-liked.
If his circumstances had stopped there, he might have felt grateful to inhabit such a life.
But as memories surged back, terms like "White Town," "Amber Lead Disease," "One Piece," "World Government," and "Celestial Dragons" surfaced in his mind—revealing the horror of the world he had entered.
Worse, his current situation was beyond dire.
He had read shonen classics like Naruto, Bleach, and One Piece. Everyone had a childhood, after all. But as work consumed his time, he rarely kept up with manga, only checking plot developments during rare breaks.
He'd even heard about the Human-Human Fruit, Mythical Zoan Type, Nika Form—and how controversial it became.
"What a terrible time and place to transmigrate…"
After taking a moment to recall everything, Abel could only smile bitterly.
…
Living in Flevance, known as the White Town, was never a blessing. Almost everyone there suffered from an incurable condition—lead poisoning—and by Abel's generation, they were doomed to die in agonizing pain before reaching adulthood.
Staring at the stark white patches on his arm, Abel knew he was no exception. It seemed that being given a second life had already used up all his good fortune.
What made it worse was the timing. If he had transmigrated just a few days earlier, he might have escaped with his parents and searched slowly for a cure.
But he arrived too late. To bury the truth, the World Government allowed Flevance to be wiped out in the war. His parents, like everyone else, died under blades and bullets.
The nuns who had been tricked, and the innocent children executed by gunfire…
Even a passing recollection made Abel clench his fists.
Now that his memories had merged, there was no longer a distinction between past and present—only one name remained: Gustavus Abel.
He felt it all as if it were truly his own life.
Sooner or later, he would demand justice for his parents and for everyone who died in Flevance.
But for now, revenge had to wait. He had neither strength nor resources to pursue it.
"The most urgent thing is getting out of here. Even if I'm getting used to the smell, once those soldiers find me, I'll be sent down that path again… assuming I even get another chance."
Muttering under his breath, Abel tried to stand—but instead slipped and rolled off the mountain of corpses.
His body was in terrible condition. He hadn't eaten or drunk in far too long, and the violent vomiting earlier left him dizzy, lightheaded, and weak.
Damn it.
Leaning against a corpse, Abel finally managed to sit upright and catch his breath. Hunger and exhaustion pounded at his skull.
In this state, escaping unnoticed and crossing the border was nothing but wishful thinking.
At the very least, he needed to regain some strength.
The bad news was that there was no food or water anywhere, and the longer he waited, the greater the risk that soldiers would return.
"Damn it… I transmigrated, didn't I? Shouldn't I have some kind of cheat, or system, or plot armor?"
The moment he finished speaking, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
Ding!
[Prayer Order System successfully bound. Newcomer gift pack issued. Please check it yourself.]