The swarm of clone soldiers poured through the streets like a flash flood of blood and brutality. The defenders - starved civilians - didn't stand a chance.
Crushed underfoot, their bodies were left behind for the others to trample.
I knew it would be brutal, but this?
427 swallowed the burn in his throat and jogged just slowly enough not to catch the front of the charge.
The streets literally ran red. Dead bodies, mostly resistance, but rarely clones, dotted the road. The tang of blood and vile stench of innards filled the air. 427 picked up a sword from a fallen clone, to put those who hadn't died yet out of their misery.
It's the least I can do, I suppose.
Walking numbly among the corpses, he slit the throats of those who were still breathing.
I wish I had a gamer system after transmigrating. Shit would be free exp.
Even dark humor couldn't mask the reality of what he was doing at the moment. He was in a trancelike state, walking among the corpses like a reaper.
Suddenly, the clash of metal knocked him out of his thoughts, or lack thereof. He looked up to see the frontline slowing down.
Did they run into the R.A?
The thought got his heart racing. Casually discarding the sword, he jogged closer to the lines. His assumption was right.
This new wave of defenders was clearly well trained. The flood of clones finally hit a dam.
Finally!
A smile cracked open on his face, almost feral.
All of 427's fights so far had been 1v1s, which, while the norm for the show, were completely unrealistic for the actual world he was in.
You think a pirate crew's just gonna watch you jump their captain? Hell no!
Throwing himself into the fray, his world narrowed.
The flash of a blade. The cries of the dying and wounded. All of these filled his senses, as he deflected, dodged, and spun.
His claws whipped out.
Unlike in solo fights, the clones would attack whichever enemies were unguarded. It was programmed into them, and was a major advantage over the laser focus people usually got.
The downside was, they were programmed to take these attacks, even if they left the clones themselves open. Great if you were a body thrown at a wall, not so great if you wanted to actually, you know, live.
Another thing I'll have to work on. The list is never ending.
The only way to describe it was draining. Constantly watching a swarm of people for attacks, having to stop his body from lashing out even if it meant leaving himself open, all of it took a toll. He came to a profound realization:
Wow, I absolutely hate group fighting. This shit sucks balls!
Still, he stuck with it. Opportunities to beat the programming out of his brain were rare.
After an hour or so, he was tapped out. Disengaging, he slipped back toward the rear of the lines. He couldn't just stand around looking pretty, because what kind of clone takes a break?
He scanned left and right, spotting a house that looked abandoned. He walked towards it. That way, he could say he was searching for rebels waiting in ambush.
After all, what are the chances this house actually has some, right?
He opened the door, or what remained of it. The inside was pretty much like every other house he had searched, but more developed than the ones in the village.
They actually have tiled floors!
The technological imbalance of the One Piece world would never cease to astound him.
Sitting on the bed, he sighed, and stretched his arms and legs. They felt like jelly, trembling. Looking up, he spotted the cabinet near the kitchen.
Damn, I'm hungry as shit.
He groaned, pushed himself up, and shuffled toward it.
All of a sudden, his instincts flared. He felt his legs jerk into action, almost instinctually. He stumbled back, just as the cabinet door burst open.
A knife.
Time slowed as it arced toward his head, getting closer and closer. He could almost hear it whistling through the air.
Move, you lazy bastard!
He screamed at his muscles, trying to throw himself back.
It saved his life, but not his face. The knife tore open a thick cut across the bridge of his nose. The blood gushed out instantly, but adrenaline dulled the pain.
427 slammed his back foot into the ground, all the muscles in his legs contracting, like a spring. He launched himself forward. The knife wielder was off balance, clearly an amateur. He had put everything into that first swing, and wasn't ready for a follow-up.
What a goddamn idi… huh?
He screeched to a halt, grabbing the knife hand, and the other arm for good measure.
It was a kid. Around thirteen, with blond hair and blue eyes. Behind him was another, a younger girl around six.
Siblings? They have the same hair and eyes.
The child squirmed like a caught rat.
"Let me go!" 427 snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at him. Pulling the knife from his grasp, he gently pushed him, and the kid stumbled back into the cabinet. Spreading his arms, he stood in front of his sister.
Defending his younger sibling even in a scenario like this? What a good kid.
"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Why would I believe you!?"
"You won't eat us?"
They had both spoken at the same time.
The older one looked back at the younger, like she was an idiot. 427 had to stop himself from bursting out with laughter. He walked back and sat on the bed, tying the bedsheet tightly around his head like a makeshift bandaid.
This is bleeding an insane amount, I'll need medical treatment eventually.
"Nah, I won't eat you. Too little meat on them bones!" He burst out with laughter. The girl shrank back.
"He's lying, you idiot!" The boy yelled out, probably trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her.
"Yeah, I am." 427's frank admission caught them both off guard.
He looked up to see them in the same position.
"Relax, I won't hurt you. I don't fight kids."
Unless they're genetic freaks. He thought of kid Linlin and Kaido, who would undoubtedly destroy him in a fight.
I'd beat the shit out of those kids. Or, more likely, they'd beat the shit out of me.
"How do I know you're not lying?" The kid asked, suspicious.
"If I wanted to hurt you I would've already, wouldn't I?"
It was the sort of logic that would only work on a kid. 427 could have been fishing for information, or anything of the sort, but the boy didn't know that. Still, it worked. The boy relaxed his arms, but didn't step away from his sister.
427 peered in the mirror, tightening the bandage.
Yeah, that's definitely going to scar.
The cut was smooth, and perfectly horizontal, stretching across the bridge of his nose, about the length of the outside edge of each eye.
Hopefully the ladies like it?
The thought made him snort. Mentally, he added women to the list along with devil fruits.
"Why?" He looked in the mirror to see the cabinet behind him. The boy had a conflicted look on his face.
"Why what?"
"Why are you attacking us? We just wanted to eat! To not be hungry! It's unfair!" By the end of the outburst, his chest was heaving.
427 thought for a minute. He looked back at the boy.
"Why does it matter?" The boy froze.
"What?"
"Why does it matter?" 427 repeated. The boy opened his mouth to talk, but 427 continued:
"The reason why doesn't matter as much as what actually happened." He turned, walking back to the bed. The children's eyes tracked him all the way.
"All that matters is that you're weak, and I'm strong. In this world, strength is the only reason." He looked at the boy.
"If I wanted to hurt you, or your sister, what could you do?" The boy clenched his teeth.
"I would have stopped you!"
"How?"
"I-!" 427 cut him off.
"No. You wouldn't have. You're weak." He looked deep into the boy's eyes, impressing the message he was trying to convey.
"If you stay this way, these things are going to keep on happening. Again, and again, and again. Sorry for what's happening to you kid, but that's the reality of this world."
He stood up and stretched, preparing to head back outside.
I really need to find a medic.
The blood loss wasn't enough to make him woozy, but it was close.
"Here." He tossed back the knife. The boy watched it clatter on the floor, then looked back at him.
"Close the cabinet doors. It was a clever hiding spot." With that parting remark, he strode towards the exit.
"Why?"
What is this, twenty questions?
He sighed, exasperated, turning around to ask what the boy meant. He didn't have to, as the sister stammered out the rest of the question for him.
"Why are you doing this if you're sorry?" 427 paused for a moment, and laughed.
I was giving a lecture on the very problem I'm facing too! Why haven't I left Germa?
"Because I'm weak too. That means I don't have a choice."
With that, he finally left.
Unbeknownst to him, a tall, lanky figure was listening from outside.
It slipped away before he could notice.
---
Walking towards the frontlines, he thought about the interaction he just had.
I feel badass!
The sympathetic enemy soldier? That was straight out of a movie!
But being serious, for that kid to be crying about fairness even after all of this, he needed a wake up call.
The world isn't fair. This one especially.
With the revolutionary army in town, maybe the kid would have a chance.
Or maybe he'd die a miserable death.
427 shrugged. It wasn't any of his business anymore.
He walked slowly behind the front lines, picking up a sword to keep doing what he was doing earlier. There was no chance he was rejoining the fight with a slash this bad.
After another hour, the battle was over.
Germa had won.