On the deck of the Aekyon.
Alan was hiding in a corner, eyes wide open, staring unblinkingly at the scene before him.
To call it a battle would be inaccurate.
It was a one-sided massacre—an overwhelming slaughter.
"So… so strong…"
Alan had muttered similar words countless times already.
Indeed.
For someone born in a small fishing village on a tiny island, the power displayed by the mysterious figure wearing a rooster mask shattered his worldview.
He had never imagined that a single person could be this strong.
That masked man showed him—through pure action—that the strength of true warriors on this sea far exceeded anything he had ever thought possible.
Alan saw it clearly.
Each movement of the rooster-masked figure far exceeded the limits of Alan's vision. Often, all he heard was a sharp burst of wind before the man reappeared somewhere else.
Every punch blasted massive holes into the ship's hull.
Every step cracked deep pits into the deck.
And the royal guards of the Nismael Kingdom—men Alan had always believed to be overwhelmingly powerful—couldn't even resist for a moment.
And now—
Crack!
The masked figure grabbed the last guard and casually twisted his neck.
Thud.
The sound of the corpse hitting the deck marked the end of the slaughter.
The masked man turned, walking toward Alan.
He raised his hand and tossed something—
the sudden gesture nearly made Alan and all his clones flinch.
But when Alan instinctively caught it, he froze.
It was a set of keys.
"These are… the cell room keys?"
Alan's eyes lit up instantly.
"You came to save the slaves on this ship, right?"
the rooster-masked man finally spoke. "Go."
"...Okay!"
Alan didn't know why this man wanted to help him, but that didn't matter. He nodded vigorously.
He and his clones rushed into the ship's hold.
Meanwhile, Roy swept his gaze across the deck, then crouched down and began rummaging through the corpses.
"Oh? This gem looks nice."
"Huh, this bundle must be at least 100,000 Berries."
"Holy smokes, a check from the Field Bank?"
Following his principle that even a mosquito is still meat, Roy stripped every guard clean.
Whenever he touched money, jewelry, or anything valuable, the items vanished instantly, absorbed by his system—while his Berry counter rose rapidly.
By the end—
His system displayed:
[Current Berries: 45,230,000]
"Holy hell. Over four million Berries in loot."
Seeing the number rise, Roy felt smug satisfaction.
No surprise—the royal slave-transport guards were loaded.
In just a few minutes, Roy had earned more than a year's salary.
"Why does it feel like literally everyone in this world is richer than me…"
He sighed.
Then he adjusted his mask and stepped into the ship's hold.
The inside was far more oppressive than he expected.
The dim lights from a few flickering oil lamps barely illuminated the filth.
The air was foul, thick with a suffocating stench.
Both sides of the hold were lined with rusted, cramped iron cages. Torture tools hung in the distance.
The ship itself reflected the kingdom of Nismael—
prosperous on the surface, rotten and ugly beneath.
The cages were all open now.
Ragged slaves staggered out, supporting one another.
Their faces showed disbelief and confusion. A few, quicker to react, already embraced each other in tears.
Their sobs carried a mix of joy at regained freedom and deep, lingering pain.
Roy didn't need anyone to explain.
The ones left here were elderly, infirm, or visibly disabled—
those judged "unsellable."
Just as the guards had said—these people were all "low-grade goods," slaves no one was willing to buy.
But their families and companions were not necessarily "low-grade."
Many of them had undoubtedly already been sold at the Sabaody Archipelago.
And the pain of being torn apart alive is no less than the pain of death.
"…"
Roy didn't speak. He quickly spotted Alan among the crowd.
Alan was holding a curled-up elderly man—the same one Roy had glimpsed earlier through the cannon sight.
The old man looked even worse now, bleeding all over, his hair matted to his blood-stained forehead.
Yet even in this state, he clutched a torn cloth in his hands, mumbling over and over:
"Kōri… Kōri… my Kōri…"
"I'm sorry, Grandpa… I'm so sorry… I couldn't get here in time…"
Alan's face was streaked with tears and pain.
All of his clone-selves shared that pain.
The slaves around them lowered their heads; the atmosphere in the hold was suffocatingly heavy.
At that moment, Roy's footsteps drew everyone's attention.
When they saw the rooster mask, some slaves instinctively gasped—
Alan had clearly already explained the situation to them.
So they knew: this was the man who had killed all the guards and helped Alan rescue them.
"Kōri?"
Beneath the rooster mask, Roy asked softly.
He deliberately lowered his voice.
"…Yes. She's my little sister. She was sold."
Wiping his tears, Alan tried to steady himself as he answered Roy:
"My grandpa tried to stop them, but he couldn't…"
Roy glanced at the old man—who was clearly slipping into madness—then nodded.
The situation was obvious; no further explanation was needed.
"What do you plan to do next?"
Roy asked quietly.
"You must have prepared an escape plan for after rescuing them, right?"
"Yes."
Alan nodded, then suddenly realized he hadn't introduced himself.
"Sir, my name is Alan… I prepared a few small fishing boats and spare clothes at a side port in Master Port. According to the plan, after we escaped the branch, we would head there and sail away."
"As long as we reach a nearby island, we'll be safe. Then we can return—"
Hearing this, all the slaves trembled.
It was obvious Alan wanted to say "return home."
But they all knew—
They could never go back.
Because their village had already been destroyed by those beasts of the Nismael Kingdom.
But Alan was clearly a resolute person. He quickly collected himself and continued:
"After I settle Grandpa somewhere safe, I'll try to find Kōri's whereabouts. She's my sister… I have to save her."
Saying this, he clenched his teeth and looked straight at Roy.
"Sir… my lord…"
Then he knelt heavily before Roy.
But before he could speak, Roy cut him off.
"You want to ask me to help you rescue your sister, don't you?"
Roy looked down at him.
"…Yes."
Alan's voice was dry.
"I don't have the strength you possess, my lord."
He wasn't afraid of death—coming to this slave ship, he had fully prepared to die.
But what happened earlier made him understand even more clearly the vast gap in power.
Some things cannot be solved with courage alone.
Just like this time—without the masked man before him, he and all the slaves would have met a miserable end.
If he could ask this powerful man for help…
"I refuse."
Roy's reply came without hesitation.
He continued calmly:
"You heard it yourself. The one who bought your sister was a Celestial Dragon. We have no reason to go to war with the World Government just for you."
He stated the fact calmly.
That's right.
Roy possessed sufficient morals and sympathy; when it didn't interfere with his own plans, he wouldn't hesitate to rescue slaves, as he did just now.
But that didn't mean he would charge into Mary Geoise just because he felt sorry for someone.
"…"
Alan's face instantly turned deathly pale.
His lips trembled, but no words came out.
Even as a simple fisherman from a remote island, he had heard of the World Nobles.
He knew Roy was right.
"It was presumptuous of me…"
He finally managed to say bitterly.
But again, Roy interrupted him:
"However, I might be able to request permission from my leader—
If someday we have a chance to go to Mary Geoise , or encounter your sister elsewhere, we will try to rescue her."
"But in return, I need you to do something for us."
Roy said softly.
Hearing this, the sorrow in Alan's eyes was instantly replaced by surprise.
And when he understood Roy's meaning, he looked up at that rooster mask—
To him, that mask seemed to represent hope.
He didn't know who "we" referred to, only that Roy belonged to some organization.
But he could guess—
Whatever organization this man belonged to, it must be very powerful.
So even though Roy's terms were harsh, and he never promised a guaranteed rescue, Alan didn't hesitate for a moment:
"I'm willing!"
"My lord, I'll do anything—even if it costs my life, I—"
"I don't need your life."
Roy raised a hand to stop him.
"I only need you to do two things for me."
He spoke softly and briefly explained what those two tasks were.
The more Alan listened, the more shocked he looked.
By the end, his face could only be described as stunned.
"You're serious? You really want me to…"
"Of course."
After Roy confirmed it seriously, Alan straightened his posture.
"Since it's your request… I will do it."