Chapter 9: Alan's Request!
On the deck of The Eikjörn.
Alan was hiding in a corner, his eyes glued to the "battle" unfolding.
Or rather, "battle" wasn't the right word.
It was a one-sided slaughter.
"So... so strong..."
Alan had already whispered this subconscious thought more times than he could count.
For a boy from a small fishing village on a tiny island, the power displayed by the mysterious figure in the rooster mask had shattered his entire worldview.
He had never imagined a single person could be this powerful. This person's actions showed him that the strong on this sea possessed power far beyond anything he had ever known.
Alan could see it clearly. Every time the masked man moved, it was far faster than his eyes could follow. He would just hear a whoosh, and the man would be in a new spot.
Every punch blasted a huge hole in the ship's railing. Every step caved in the deck.
In contrast, the Nice-Mayer Kingdom's guards, who he'd thought were so strong, couldn't even put up a fight.
And now...
KRAK!
The rooster-masked man grabbed the last guard and casually snapped his neck.
THUD.
The sound of the body hitting the deck was like the final note of the fight.
The masked man turned and walked over to Alan. He tossed something—a motion that made Alan and all his clones flinch.
But a set of keys landed in his hands. He'd caught them on pure reflex.
"These are... the keys to the holding cells?"
Alan's eyes lit up.
"You're here to save these slaves, right?" the masked man finally spoke. "Go."
"...Yeah!"
Alan didn't know why this person was helping him, but that didn't stop him from nodding emphatically. He and his clones immediately rushed into the ship's hold.
Roy's clone scanned the area, then calmly began... checking the guards' bodies one by one.
"Ooh, this jewel looks high-quality!"
"Ho, this thick wad... must be 100,000 Berries."
"Holy crap, a check from the Fjerde Bank?"
Working on the principle that "even a mosquito is meat," Roy's clone looted everything of value from the guards.
And every time he touched treasure, Berries, or anything valuable, the items vanished. In their place, a value on Roy's system interface began to climb.
Until finally... the value on the screen read:
[Current Berries: 45,230,000]
"Damn. A full 4,100,000 Berries in loot." Roy felt a warm, fuzzy feeling.
As expected of royal slavers, they were loaded. In just a few minutes, he had made more than his entire year's salary.
"Why does it feel like everyone in this world is richer than me..." Roy lamented.
He stood up, adjusted his mask, and walked into the hold.
The scene in the hold was even more depressing than he had imagined. It was dim, lit only by a few swaying oil lamps. The air was foul, a suffocating mix of odors.
Both sides of the hold were lined with cramped, rusty iron cages. In the distance, he could see various torture implements.
This ship was just like the Nice-Mayer Kingdom itself—a prosperous surface hiding a filthy ugliness.
But now, the cages were open. Ragged slaves were helping each other stumble out.
Their faces were masks of disbelief and confusion. Some of the quicker ones had already collapsed, hugging each other and wailing.
Their cries were a mix of joy at their newfound freedom and profound pain.
Roy didn't need to be told. The ones left behind were all either very old or had obvious physical disabilities.
Just as the guards had said—they were 'low-grade cargo,' the slaves no one wanted to buy.
But their families and friends... they weren't all 'low-grade cargo.' Many had surely been sold at Sabaody. The pain of being separated in life was no less than the pain of death.
"..."
Roy remained silent, quickly finding Alan in the crowd.
Alan was holding a curled-up old man—the same one Roy had seen at the cannon port.
He looked even worse now, bleeding from multiple wounds, his matted hair stuck to his forehead. He was still clutching that scrap of cloth, muttering, "Koli... Koli... my Koli..."
"I'm sorry... Grandpa... I'm sorry... I wasn't fast enough..."
Alan's face was streaked with tears, his expression agonized. All his clones shared this pain.
The other slaves watched, lowering their heads. The atmosphere in the hold became suffocatingly heavy.
But then, Roy's footsteps drew everyone's attention. Upon seeing the rooster mask, some of the slaves gasped. Alan had clearly explained the situation to them.
They knew this was the man who had killed all the guards and saved them.
"Koli?"
Roy asked from beneath the mask. He intentionally kept his voice low and muffled.
"...Yeah. That's my sister. She... she was bought." Hearing the question, Alan wiped his tears, fighting for composure. "My grandpa... he tried to stop them, but..."
Roy glanced at the old man, who was clearly not all there, and nodded. The situation was obvious. No explanation needed.
"What's your plan now?" Roy asked. "You must have had an escape route ready."
"Yes." Alan nodded, then realized he hadn't introduced himself. "Sir, my name is Alan... I have a few small fishing boats and spare clothes hidden at a quiet dock in Master Port. The plan was to head there after... after this, and sail away."
"Once we reach a nearby island, we'll be safe. Then we can go..."
Hearing this, the slaves flinched. He was going to say "home." But they all knew they couldn't go home. Their village had already been destroyed by those Nice-Mayer bastards.
But Alan was a determined person. He quickly recovered. "After I get Grandpa settled, I'm going to find Koli. She's my sister... I have to save her."
He gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on Roy. "Sir... My lord..."
Then, he dropped to his knees.
Before he could speak, Roy cut him off. "Are you about to ask me to help you save your sister?"
"...Yes," Alan's voice was hoarse. "I don't have your strength, my lord..."
He wasn't afraid to die. He had been prepared to die tonight. But what he had just witnessed showed him the massive gap in power.
Some things couldn't be solved with courage alone. Just like tonight—without this man, his and all the slaves' fates would have been tragic.
If he could just get this powerful man to help...
"I refuse."
Roy said it without hesitation.
He looked at Alan. "You heard the guards. A Celestial Dragon bought your sister. I have no reason to declare war on the World Government for you."
He stated it as a simple fact. Roy had a conscience and a bottom line. When it didn't interfere with his own plans, he didn't mind saving some slaves. But that didn't mean he was about to charge Mary Geoise.
"..."
Alan's face went deathly pale. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Even as a simple fisherman, he had heard of the 'World Nobles.' He knew the masked man was right.
"I... I apologize for asking..." he choked out.
But again, Roy cut him off.
"However, I can petition my 'leader.' If we have an opportunity to go to Mary Geoise in the future, or if we find your sister elsewhere, we will attempt to rescue her."
"But in return... I need you to do some things for us."
Hearing this, the despair in Alan's eyes was instantly replaced by a desperate spark of hope. He stared at the rooster mask.
To him, that mask now represented hope. He had no idea who "we" was, but he could tell this man belonged to some organization.
And he could guess that any organization this man belonged to had to be powerful!
So, even though the offer was conditional and gave no guarantee, Alan didn't hesitate. "I'll do it!"
"My lord, I'll do anything! Even if it costs my life, I..."
"I don't need your life," Roy raised a hand, cutting him off. "I just need you to do two things for me."
He spoke in a low voice, outlining the two tasks. As Alan listened, his expression grew more and more astonished.
By the end, his face was one of complete disbelief.
"Are you serious? You really want me to..."
"Of course."
After receiving Roy's firm confirmation, Alan's expression turned grim and determined. "If that is your request... then I will do it."