What is a man who breaks his promises?
Is he still a man, or something else entirely—something hollow, lesser, a shell that once carried weight?
And what is a king who fails to protect his people?
Who watches his family burn, his throne turn to ash, his people slaughtered beneath a sky that once called him chosen?
Is he still a king... or just a man with a crown-shaped wound?
They say all men fall. But what happens when they fall from everything that once gave them meaning?
Their vows. Their purpose. Their name.
For a man to live in another man's home—
To sleep under another man's roof, to eat his food, obey his orders, breathe by his permission—
Is a shame deeper than death.
For in that place, he holds authority over nothing.
Not his wife.
Not his son.
Not even himself.
Such a man is no longer a man.
Nor a king.
Nor even a human being.
WHIP. WHIP. WHIP.
Zoro flinched as the lashes cracked against his back, tearing skin like parchment in the wind.
The sharp sting crawled through muscle and bone, but he didn't cry out. Not anymore.
Jack, sitting beneath a fig tree fat with fruit and shade, laughed ,A cruel, effortless laugh
The kind that stings more than any whip ever could.
Women lounged around him like ornaments, sipping wine and giggling at the spectacle.
Zoro, the man they once called Lionheart, was now dressed in rags—
If you could even call them that.
Thin strips of cloth clung to his skin, soaked in sweat, blood, and dirt.
He knelt in the fields, tilling the earth with bare hands, like an animal learning to crawl again.
Jack leaned forward and plucked a grapefruit from a silver bowl.
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it at Zoro's face.
The fruit hit him in the temple and rolled into the dust.
"Eat, Your Majesty!"
Jack mocked, grinning like the devil himself.
The other slaves said nothing. But their eyes
Bitter.
.
Zoro, the fallen king, had been made to serve.
Not as a soldier.
Not even as a prisoner of war.
But as a slave—body and soul—for seven long years.
And they called it mercy.
They said it was a chance.
A sacred opportunity for atonement:
That if he served with loyalty and humility, he would earn his freedom.
That he would one day be allowed to see his wife again, to embrace his son, to rebuild their shattered kingdom.
He agreed.
Not because he believed them.
But because he had nothing else left to believe in.
The warrior once anointed to stand against darkness was now the one begging it for mercy.
Nor king.Nor man.
Just a body in the dirt.
Moving.Enduring.
For the sake of a promise he was no longer sure he could keep.
"The man of Valhalla!" one of them called out.
He lifted a beer as he leaned on the serving table, smiling. A drunk man patted him on the back.
"Tell us about this story again, Zoro. Uuuhm… let's see… you said it was a place of paradise for warriors, which has everything a man could want?"
The people laughed.
"Enough!" he chimed in.
"Iknow, it still exists. Once we are all free, I shall take you there… in honor of my people."
"Give us a break, Zoro. You keep preaching the same thing over and over. Everything in this world — even heaven — was made to adapt to the hell we live in." The man paused, exhaling an alcoholic breath.
"If I were to be free… it would mean I'd have to die. Even those who seem free are just a bunch of sheep." He swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp before leaving.
John was an old man in his early 80s. Though he had reached the requirements needed to be free, he decided to stay in the army. He saw no difference between this world and the outside one — perhaps this one was better for him.
"It does exist," Zoro said quietly. "I'll grant you freedom."
At that word, John paused.
"I promise."
John continued on his way.
"Do not fear, my beloved warriors, for the place in which we are going is paradise!" He preached this daily after every battle. Some believed some mocked , they died , yet no one knows where both parties went.
It was a quiet morning. Only the wind broke the silence as it scattered dry leaves. They were meeting the commander — a rare scenario unless there was going to be an important battle.
"Greetings, my children," the commander said. "I hope you are still fit for battle. This one will be the greatest yet. Try your best to come back with their heads. Special armor has been prepared for you. Enjoy."
"Bob, isn't this your last battle?" His brother asked.
"Yeah… it is." Bob pressed the heart-shaped necklace against his chest.
"Congratulations brother! People die every day — you're lucky. But don't end up like the old man."
He smiled. "Of course I won't. I have a family waiting you included"
"Welli still have 3 years left but I'll catch up"
John glanced at them from the side, giving them a worried look. Zoro grabbed his shoulder.
"Ready, sir?"
"I'm tired, Zoro."
Zoro paused, puzzled by the captain's sudden behavior.
He laughed sarcastically. "You know, I sometimes wish that paradise you talk about was real. Maybe it would give meaning to such vanity… but then again, I may be old — but still sane."
Wind blew through Bob's hair, making him shiver. He stared ahead, spotting a speck on the horizon. His hands shook as he held the telescope.
"They're here!"
"I pray thee forgives the blood spilled upon thy land," Zoro murmured, making his usual prayer before sheathing his sword.
Arrows fell like rain, piercing the weak. Blood seeped through the wood, a drop falling onto Zoro's cheek like a crimson tear. He sighed.
The sky darkened, growling with fury.
Ships surrounded them. Fire-covered bombs crashed onto decks. Swords were drawn. Arrows loosed. Some died before the first clash — but nonetheless, it began. The titanic war.
Zoro felt nothing as he cut down men. To him, it was a chase game, and he was the knight sent to bring the king's head.
He ran through lines of soldiers, their heads falling behind him.
Bob struggled to kill one man. An arrow pierced his shoulder. He slipped in a pool of blood, dodging a deadly swing.
John helped him.
Zoro tore through the ship's hallways until he found the king's chamber.
The king sat on his throne, no guards, no weapons.
"You must be the legendary Zoro The fallen king. You have many names… but tell me — which one do you like the most?" He sipped his wine.
He grabbed a second wine glass feeling it with wine extending it towards Zoro.
Zoro remained silent.
The king stepped down from his throne, pacing the room.
"Sorry to ask. I forgot — beings like you have no will of their own. You have the eyes of a man, yet—"
Zoro slit his throat, nearly beheading him. The wine glass shattered.
The man raised his hand, revealing a slave mark,he grinned. "Checkmate."
Zoro's heart dropped. He turned in a trance.
The soldiers raised their swords in victory.
John looked at Bob. "Thank you for all your help, young la—"
A blade burst through his back. He froze.
"No hard feelings, captain," said Bob's brother, yanking the sword free.
He swiftly grabbed the sword, shattering it with his bare hands before slamming a punch into the gut.
"Same to you, my friend."
"Brother…" Bob's voice shook, vision blurred by tears.
His brother coughed blood, laughing through the pain. "We both want freedom, brother, and I'd go to any len—" His head fell sideways, departing from his body .
Bombs tore through the ship.
"We've been ambushed!" Zoro shouted.
"Good grief… this isn't good," John muttered, walking toward Zoro as fire-bombs exploded around him.
"I may be old, kid, but I've still got some fight in me. Wanna dance with this old man?"
Zoro glanced at his wound, then at his eyes. "Don't break your back."
"Serves you right, Jack! What are you going to do now?" the king laughed, surrounded by women, sipping wine.
A knock rattled the door.
Through the fire came an old man and a young warrior, leaping over broken wood, leaving no head unturned on their way to the main ship.
"Enter," the king commanded.
A soldier staggered in, panting.
"Your highness… two men… two men are making their way toward your ship."
"I have five thousand men! What's the issue?"
"They… th-they—"
The roof burst open. Two men, covered in blood, dropped into the room.
"Sorry to interrupt," John grinned as the soldier's head hit the floor, "but we need your heads."
The women scattered like flies.
The king was oddly calm. John smashed Zoro's head to the ground just as arrows buried themselves in his back.
Five men entered — each an army commander.
"Damn you cowards!" John roared, blood spilling from his mouth.
"I'm surprised you made it this far, old man. But this is the end of both your legends. I'll give you an option — surrender your lives, and I'll spare you."
Zoro tried to raise his head but couldn't.
John shoved him through the ship and into the sea, spitting at the king.
"I'm tired of all you people playing god."
The king lifted his sword to behead him — but John moved first, blitzing forward and punching him straight through the ship.
John panted. "Huh? I feel… more tired than usual."
A blade burst through his chest. One of the commanders twisted it.
John blinked — and found himself walking in a field of green.
On the battlefield, his remaining subordinate fought to escape, barely alive.
Zoro climbed back aboard, limping from the ocean. It looked as if he were crying.
"Until we meet in paradise…" he remembered John's last words.
The ship sank with John's body.
I worked under the sun, and it was all vanity.
Freedom itself is a mere illusion — every man, whether slave or not, is bound to someone or something until death.
Yes… only then will one be free.
But a warrior with the eyes of a man came. I expected him to share my view — but alas, he preached about paradise.
I despised him. For a man can never be free. He was wise, but made himself a fool. And yet… he had such ambition. Apart from his family, he truly believed in paradise.
As for me — if I hadn't seen it in my dying state, I wouldn't have believed. And yet… I can't tell my brothers that there is hope. Hope for paradise.
Zoro stood alone in the rain after everyone had gone. They'd given John a proper funeral.
It was simple — just a wooden cross — but to them, it was honorable.
Zoro turned to leave. The sun finally began to rise.
Three more years until he could free his family. He hoped they were well.
A small spark caught his eye in a trash can. He reached in — and pulled out a heart-shaped necklace, still wet with blood.
"Freedom… is a mere illusion."