Check out early access chapters on my Patréon, currently 3 chapters ahead!
🛑patreón.com/AlienWarlord🛑
——————
🚨Insert Backrooms GIFs/PICs here - Most likes wins🚨(A/N: only TWO entries per person!)
🏆Last chapters GIF winner(s): A_zombie_jack!🏆 (A/N: 👑)
Muyeon met his mother's piercing gaze, her presence dominating the chamber. "I found them beaten and hurt while I was out," he said, voice steady. "I brought them here for treatment."
Lady Mu's lips curled skeptically. Her son, the calculating heir to the Dark Clan, had never shown interest in aiding the unfortunate. Her eyes flicked to Hancock, sprawled on the bed, and narrowed.
Hancock's beauty was staggering, even bruised, beaten, and pale. Lady Mu felt a twinge of threat, her own allure paling beside this stranger. She assumed Muyeon's motives were clear—he'd saved her for that face and body.
Marigold, less striking, barely registered in her mind. She was a tag-along, irrelevant to her son's apparent infatuation. Lady Mu's suspicion hardened into certainty.
"He even wasted the spiritual herbs I gave him on healing them…" She shook her head, exasperated.
Of course, those were actually Querehsha's herbs—not that she had any idea.
"Unless this girl is of noble birth or exceptional talent, she cannot be your wife," Lady Mu declared. Her tone was final, brooking no argument. Hancock's beauty was undeniable, but the Dark Clan demanded more.
Muyeon's mouth opened, stunned by the misunderstanding. He nearly corrected her, but stopped—her assumption was a perfect cover for the truth. He frowned, feigning disappointment, and muttered, "Yes, Mother."
Lady Mu's eyes softened. "She can't be your wife, but a concubine is fitting," she said. "After all, such beauty shouldn't fall to lesser hands."
Muyeon blinked, caught off guard. 'A concubine?' He hadn't expected things to turn in this direction.
"When you become Demon Lord, concubines are common," Lady Mu continued, voice pragmatic. "Many lords have kept them alongside their wives." She nodded, as if settling the matter.
Muyeon's mind raced, but he stayed silent. Correcting her now risked exposing the chat group and his dimensional gambit. Her misunderstanding was inconvenient, but useful.
Lady Mu turned to the maids, who stood rigid under her gaze. "Prepare rooms for her and the other guest," she ordered, gesturing vaguely at Marigold. The maids scurried off, their footsteps echoing.
She paused at the doorway, glancing back. "Don't be late for training, Muyeon," she said, her tone sharp. Then she was gone, silk robes whispering in her wake.
Muyeon sighed, alone at last. How had he stumbled into this mess? His mother's assumptions were a headache he didn't need.
Unbeknownst to him, Hancock had stirred minutes ago, her consciousness flickering during Lady Mu's lecture. The talk of wives and concubines sent heat rushing to her cheeks. She lay still, pretending to sleep, heart pounding.
Her thoughts spiraled, torn between embarrassment and curiosity. She cracked one eye open, stealing a glance at Muyeon. His sharp features and calm demeanor stirred something unfamiliar, nearly drawing a squeal of infatuation from her lips.
Then memories crashed in—Sandersonia, still trapped in that hellhole. Hancock bolted upright, crying, "Sandersonia!" Pain tore through her, forcing a groan as she clutched her side.
Muyeon turned, eyes narrowing. "Good, you're awake," he muttered, voice cool but alert. He stepped closer, assessing her condition with a practiced gaze.
Hancock's blush deepened, her mind a tangle of gratitude, shame, and desperation. This man had saved her and Marigold, but her sister's absence gnawed at her. She met his gaze, resolve hardening despite her pain.
Muyeon leaned over Hancock, checking her injuries with a clinical gaze. The herb cream had eased her condition, but she was still nowhere near 100%.
She stirred, eyes darting around, fear flickering as if she were still in that blood-soaked hellhole. "Where are we?"
"You're safe," Muyeon said, voice calm. "You're not in your world anymore." Hancock's brow furrowed, confusion clouding her onyx eyes.
She clutched the sheets, voice hoarse. "What… what do you mean?" The Multiverse Chat Group was a mystery to her, its interface summoned in desperation with no time to understand.
Muyeon sat back, explaining. "The chat group connects worlds. I saw your message, used it to find you, and brought you to my world…"
"???"
Seeing that she didn't understand what he was talking about, Muyeon sighed, "It's like this…"
…
..
.
"That's pretty much everything." Muyeon finished explaining what he knew about the group chat. "Just one thing—don't mention it to my family. I'd rather keep it under wraps."
"I get it." Hancock nodded, though the whole thing still sounded unbelievable. "Your secret's safe with me."
Her gaze shifted to Marigold, still unconscious but stable. "I can tell my sisters though, right?" Her sister's steady breathing eased her worries.
"Sure, as long as they don't say anything." Muyeon shrugged.
Thinking of her other sister, Hancock turned to Muyeon, eyes pleading.
"Sandersonia," she whispered, voice breaking. "She's still there, with that lunatic." Tears welled as she begged, "Please, save her!"
{Immediate Return inadvisable… Likelihood of death 95%}
'I thought so…' Muyeon sighed, weighing his words. "I'll do what I can, but we can't go back yet."
He met her gaze, tone firm. "Someone stronger than me was there. Returning now means death." They'd need to wait until tonight, when the coast might be clear.
Hancock's tears spilled over. "What if she needs us now?" Her voice cracked, desperation raw.
Muyeon's expression didn't soften. "We can only hope she's alright," he said. "Rushing in blindly won't save her. It'll only get us killed."
He leaned forward, voice low. "But If you can't wait, you could try convincing our other chat member, Querehsha."
{Plague Monarch's involvement increases success probability to 99%.}
Hancock's eyes flickered with hope. "Who's Querehsha?" She grasped at the possibility, unaware of the Plague Monarch's capricious nature.
"She's the strongest member in the chat," Muyeon explained.
He doubted Querehsha would help, especially since Hancock had nothing that would interest her. And he wouldn't waste his future knowledge to goad Querehsha—Sandersonia just wasn't worth it. But he wouldn't say that aloud.
Before Hancock could ask more, a knock interrupted them.
"Come in," Muyeon called.
A maid entered, bowing. "The guest rooms are prepared, Young Master."
Muyeon nodded. "Take Marigold to hers." He'd handle Hancock himself.
He crossed to Hancock, scooping her into a princess carry. She gasped, cheeks flushing. "I can walk!" she protested weakly.
"No, you can't," Muyeon said, shaking his head. "You're hurt enough." Her injuries were too severe for stubbornness.
Hancock's arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her blush deepening. She felt giddy, and embarrassed, but worry for Sandersonia soon drowned it out. Muyeon's steady grip anchored her.
He stepped outside and turned to a nearby maid. "Lead me to her room." The maid bowed, guiding them through the stone corridors.
Maids lined the halls, their eyes discreetly averted. Hancock's embarrassment surged, her heart a tangle of emotions. Muyeon's calm strength both reassured and unnerved her.
Soon enough, they reached the guest room. The maid opened it, bowing as Muyeon carried Hancock inside. He set her gently on the bed, its sheets soft beneath her.
"I have training with my mother soon," Muyeon said. "Familiarize yourself with the chat group. Try convincing Querehsha to help."
He paused, voice firm. "If she refuses, we'll scope the place out tonight. Hopefully, Sandersonia holds out until then."
Hancock nodded, clutching the sheets. She threw herself into the chat interface, its holographic glow illuminating her determined face. [Plague Monarch: Online], it read, daunting yet promising.
Muyeon turned to leave, then paused at the door. "You may have missed it when you were bleeding out," he said, a charming smile softening his sharp features. "I'm Cheon Muyeon. You can call me Muyeon."
Hancock blinked, caught off guard. "I'm… Boa Hancock," she murmured, her voice shy but steady. "…You can call me Hancock."
"It's nice to meet you, Hancock," Muyeon said, his smile lingering. He stepped out, leaving her flustered, and headed to prepare for training with Lady Mu.
————
Muyeon returned from training, his muscles aching from Lady Mu's relentless drills.
After a brief talk with his mother, he headed to Hancock's guest room. He paused at the door, hearing heated voices within.
Hancock and Marigold sat on the bed, their faces tense. Marigold, who'd woken earlier and caused a commotion, had been calmed when maids brought Hancock to her side. Now, they debated leaving without Muyeon or Querehsha to save Sandersonia.
"We can't wait!" Marigold insisted, voice sharp. "Sandersonia's suffering!" Hancock nodded, her eyes fierce despite her injuries.
{Probability of death if departing now: 37%.}
Muyeon's lips twitched. The odds were grim, especially for the injured sisters.
Querehsha had refused to help, as he'd predicted. Her disinterest was no surprise.
He stepped inside, and the sisters tensed. Marigold eyed him warily, sitting protectively in front of her sister. Muyeon's presence filled the room, calm but commanding.
"You can't leave without me," he said, voice firm. "You're both hurt—Hancock still needs time to heal." Rushing in was a death sentence.
Marigold's eyes blazed. "Injured or not, we have to save her!" She leaned forward, voice breaking. "We can't leave Sandersonia to rot!"
Muyeon understood their desperation but held firm. "You can't save her like this. Wait until sunset, and I'll help."
Hancock glanced out the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun hung low, painting the sky crimson. Time was crawling, but it was almost ready.
Muyeon crossed his arms behind his back. "As soon as the sun sets, we go. But not a second sooner."
He met their gazes, voice steady. "I should probably go alone, but you won't agree to that, right?" Both sisters nodded, their resolve unyielding.
Muyeon exhaled. "Then wait until sunset." He turned, leaving them to their anxious whispers.
…
An hour later, the sun dipped below the horizon, cloaking the estate in twilight. Muyeon returned to Hancock's room, his sword sheathed at his hip. "Ready?" he asked.
Hancock and Marigold stood, eyes burning with purpose. "We've been ready all day," Hancock said, her voice steady despite her pain. Marigold nodded, her injuries nearly healed by the herb cream.
The spiritual herbs had worked wonders, but Hancock was still vulnerable. Muyeon kept that in mind.
"Open the chat," Muyeon instructed Hancock. "Create a mission to save Sandersonia. I'll approve it."
Hancock accessed the chat, her fingers trembling slightly. [New Quest: Save Sandersonia], she typed, then hesitated, blushing fiercely. She finished, and the hologram pulsed.
Muyeon's eyes widened.
[Quest: Save Sandersonia]
[Reward: A date with Boa Hancock.]
The unexpected reward explained her odd behavior.
He glanced at Hancock, a sly smile tugging his lips. "I can't wait for my reward," he said, voice teasing. Hancock's blush deepened, her eyes darting away.
Marigold frowned, confused. "What reward?" she asked, tilting her head.
Hancock opened her mouth, mortified, but a bright light erupted before she could answer. The room dissolved, dimensions tearing open. They vanished, swallowed by the void.
————
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn lingered in Mary Geoise, his day consumed by Jalmack's side. The intruder's breach gnawed at him, a blemish on the Holy Land's sanctity. His grandson's tantrums over his missing "toys" only sharpened his resolve to act.
Lord Imu awaited his report, and Elder duties piled high. Saturn's immortality, granted by Imu, demanded he maintain the World Government's divine order. He could no longer delay.
He summoned a marine to guard Jalmack in his stead. The order rippled through Navy headquarters, landing on the one man available.
Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp was dispatched, much to his chagrin.
Garp trudged into Jalmack's opulent mansion, his broad frame filling the doorway. His weathered face, framed by gray hair, twisted in a scowl. "Damn Sengoku," he muttered, cursing the Fleet Admiral for this assignment.
[Insert picture of Garp here]
Every admiral and vice admiral was tied up with missions. Garp, caught slacking with a bag of rice crackers, drew the short straw. Guarding a Celestial Dragon was the last thing he wanted.
Jalmack lounged in a gilded chair, smirking at Garp's arrival. The vice admiral's reputation preceded him—hero of the Marines, bane of pirates. Yet here he was, a glorified babysitter.
Garp forced a stiff salute. "Vice Admiral Garp, reporting as ordered," he said, voice gruff. The words tasted like ash, but a request from an Elder demanded compliance.
Saturn's cane tapped the marble floor. "Protect my grandson," he ordered, his scarred face unyielding. He swept out, bound for Imu's throne.
Garp's fist clenched, itching to punch something. Playing lapdog for a spoiled World Noble grated on his nerves. Still, he stood firm, eyes sharp for any threat.
Jalmack's laughter echoed, taunting. "Keep up, old man," he sneered, rising to torment his remaining slave. Garp gritted his teeth, duty chaining him to this farce.
A/N: 2106 words :)
👇🚨🥺GIVE STONES PLS🥺🚨👇