"Uu… uuu…"
Abis curled into the corner, hugging her knees, her whole body shaking as broken sobs spilled out of her.
Her clothes were torn, her hair a tangled mess, bruises blooming across her skin.
Her swollen eyes reflected nothing but pain, despair, and humiliation.
Even though Foxxy had saved her once, she had already been defiled.
Her husband, Kot, and her son lay dead — and her world had collapsed.
Foxxy forced himself to breathe. His face, still pale from terror and shock, slowly regained a trace of color. He pulled a blanket from a broken cabinet and draped it gently over Abis.
He didn't know what to say.
What could he say?
Outside were dozens of pirates.
Alone, he could do nothing.
His heart pounded wildly, choking him.
He crouched by the window crack, lips trembling, peering at the inferno outside.
The village burned.
Pirates laughed and cheered as they butchered people he knew by name.
He wanted to help.
He wanted to rush out, to strike, to save someone — anyone.
But when he tried to stand, his legs trembled uncontrollably.
He was terrified.
In his fantasies, he always imagined himself as a future powerhouse — slaying warlords, kicking down emperors, dominating the seas with fiery passion.
But the reality poured over him like ice water.
The world was ugly.
Cruel.
Sick.
And he finally understood it — truly understood it — not in imagination, not with detachment, but with his own eyes.
This was One Piece's true nature.
Not adventure.
Not joy.
But carnage.
Outside—
"Captain! Mosger is dead!"
A few pirates stared at the corpse of the grotesque man Foxxy killed, shouting in disbelief.
"What?"
The scarred captain strode over, eyes narrowing at the sight of Mosger's nearly decapitated body.
Mosger — fifth strongest in the Scarblade Pirates.
A man worth twenty-three million berries.
A monster to normal villagers.
Yet here he lay, in the dirt.
Dead.
"Search."
The scarred man barked orders, his gaze sweeping toward the hut where Foxxy and Abis hid.
Three pirates approached the hut, guns raised.
Foxxy's palms were drenched in cold sweat.
Calm down…
Calm down…
He gripped the machete tightly, as if it alone anchored him to life.
Just as he steeled himself — ready to gamble everything in a final struggle —
A hand touched his shoulder.
He jolted like struck by lightning.
"A… Abis… Auntie…"
He turned and saw her hollow, lifeless eyes.
"Foxxy. Live well."
She smiled — a broken, doomed smile — and placed one hand on his head, the other gripping a kitchen knife.
Before he could react, she ran outside.
Foxxy froze.
Then, with a trembling breath, he looked through the crack.
Abis's sudden appearance stunned the pirates for a heartbeat.
Then grins twisted across their faces.
"Well well… another woman. Decent enough, too."
One pirate grabbed her wrist effortlessly.
A flick — she fell to the ground.
Her knife clattered away.
"Looks like Mosger died on top of her!"
"Hahaha! She's old, but old ones are easy to… enjoy."
Several pirates chuckled wickedly.
Some were already tugging at their pants.
"Make it quick. The Marines patrol around this region,"
The scarred captain muttered, but did not stop them.
"Captain, you don't want a turn?"
A pirate jeered.
"I have better options."
The pirates exchanged knowing glances and approached Abis.
"You demons… you'll die horribly…"
Abis cried, struggling as they tore off what remained of her clothes.
Her eyes were empty.
Dead.
She looked toward the hut — toward Foxxy — their eyes meeting through the tiny crack.
Don't come out.
Her lips formed the words silently.
Foxxy trembled violently.
His nails pierced his palms.
His teeth ground against each other.
His vision reddened.
These people had sheltered him, fed him, and treated him like family.
And Abis — gentle, kind Abis — was being brutalized right in front of him.
He knew he shouldn't go out.
He knew he would die.
But he wasn't a beast.
He wasn't soulless.
And he was still a 14-year-old boy in the fire of youth — impulsive, emotional, and now filled with uncontainable rage.
So—
He moved.
Foxxy burst from the ruins like a wild hawk.
His left hand shot a Slow-Slow ring at the pirate pinning Abis down —
The pink halo caught him full in the back.
In the same heartbeat, Foxxy's machete flashed—
A head lifted cleanly from a neck, hanging in the air as if suspended by invisible threads.
He spun and struck another pirate wielding a flintlock.
The man dodged out of instinct — but Foxxy severed his arm at the elbow.
"Ahh!! My arm—!!"
Blood sprayed.
Foxxy pressed on, ready to kill again—
But death fell from above.
The captain swung his massive cleaver with terrifying force.
Foxxy raised his machete to block—
CLANG!!!
The impact shattered his world.
His machete ripped from his hands, slamming into his chest.
He felt his ribs cracking.
Blood burst from his mouth as he flew backwards.
CRASH!
He smashed through a wall, collapsing in a heap of rubble.
"My… my eye—! My eye—!!"
A wooden shard had pierced deep into his left eye socket.
Blood and fluid streamed down his cheek, soaking the dirt.
The pain —
It was beyond anything he had ever felt.
Tearing.
Burning.
Searing his soul.
He could barely breathe as his chest caved inward.
Bones snapped like twigs.
He couldn't stand.
Couldn't lift a finger.
He could only tremble in agony.
Outside, the scarred captain glared down.
"Bring him."
A pirate grabbed Foxxy by the hair and dragged him out like a dead animal, ignoring his hoarse screams.
Thrown at the captain's feet, Foxxy lay in a horrifying state —
Face bloodless, eye ruined, chest collapsing, breath ragged.
He was barely alive.
"An ability user, huh? And a kid too…"
The captain sneered.
"You'll fetch a good price."
Foxxy heard his words as if from far away.
His vision flickered.
He tasted blood.
He knew.
He was going to die.
This time…
He really might not survive.