"Big brother, it's just up ahead."
Led by little Fort, Davy arrived at a small bridge.
Following the direction the boy pointed, he saw—beneath the bridge—an improvised marketplace built atop a mountain of garbage. Children clustered excitedly around a makeshift stall, picking through cheap toys.
Behind the stall sat a middle-aged man in a filthy white hippo costume, purple hair sticking out, his face round and dopey like—well, a hippo.
He looked like a beggar, listlessly hawking toys to the delighted children.
Wapol.
Davy's eyes narrowed.
Former king of the Drum Kingdom.
User of the Baku Baku no Mi.
A tyrant, a coward, and a disgrace to the throne.
He had hoarded all twenty of the kingdom's best doctors exclusively for himself, exiling every other medical professional and plunging the world's most medically advanced nation into a healthcare hellscape.
He enacted absurd, selfish laws, treated the kingdom as his private property, and left his people to suffer.
Then—when Blackbeard invaded—he fled without a fight, abandoned his subjects, and became a pirate.
Later, he even had the gall to return and reclaim his throne… only to be punched into the horizon by Luffy.
And somehow… he washed up here, selling toys to children amid trash.
Davy's lip curled.
If he remembered correctly, this despicable man would eventually reinvent himself as a toy magnate, marry a world-class beauty queen, and even regain kingship.
Good men die early; pests thrive forever.
No—this wasn't heaven's blindness.
This was Oda's blindness.
Davy let out a cold smirk.
Little Fort, seeing him unmoving, slowly lost his earlier excitement.
He suddenly remembered the warnings adults had given him.
"Big brother… the toys are very expensive. I can't just accept one."
"It was my leg bumping into you that caused you to drop yours," Davy said gently, patting the boy's head. "This isn't a gift—this is compensation."
"But…" Little Fort squirmed, glancing longingly toward the toy stall before forcing himself to look away. "But you didn't break it. That bad man did. He should be the one paying you."
"Hahaha, don't worry," Davy laughed, warm yet amused. "Big brother will make him pay."
In this era of chaos—where greed reigned and truth was ignored—
Maybe only children could still hold onto innocence and fairness.
Fort relaxed at Davy's words… then tensed again.
Even a child could see that the "bad man" was terrifying.
What if Davy got hurt by asking for compensation?
He bit his lip, gathered courage, and turned his head away from the stall.
"Big brother… I don't want a toy anymore. Don't go ask that bad man for anything."
Davy blinked.
Then he looked at Fort—really looked at him.
"You mean that?"
"…Mm."
"You won't regret it?"
Little Fort stole another tiny glance toward the tempting toys—bit down hard on his lip—and nodded with all the seriousness his small body could muster.
Davy chuckled softly.
"Good kid. When you're weak, enduring isn't wrong. Choosing the lesser danger is a survival skill. But…"
He leaned down, meeting the boy's eyes.
"Swallowing every grievance, enduring endlessly—none of that solves the real problem."
"Remember this: kindness and backbone must coexist. Never let endless tolerance grind away your bottom line."
Fort didn't fully understand, but he nodded earnestly.
Davy didn't mind. Seeds were meant to be planted long before they sprouted.
"Well then," he stood up, "since you don't want a toy, I'll honor your wish. But I can still give you a different present."
Fort quickly waved his hands.
"No—no more gifts—!"
But Davy continued calmly:
"It's not compensation. It's a small gift because… I admired how you acted."
He opened his palm.
Floating above it was a flame—a ghostly green flame—twisting constantly.
At one moment it resembled a tiny person, then a face, then a drifting wisp of fog.
"Is… is that fire? Doesn't it burn?"
"No. This is a seed."
Davy's smile deepened.
Over the past days, while training the rescued girls, his soul-manipulation had advanced dramatically.
Now he could perform delicate operations—like this one.
The green flame was a carefully separated soul fragment, stripped of memories—
containing only:
a small amount of soul energy
some foundational training insights
and a hint of combat intuition
Worthless to seasoned warriors.
But to a beginner?
It was a shortcut.
A spark.
"A seed? What does it grow into?"
Little Fort asked, unable to resist stretching a finger to poke it.
Davy didn't stop him.
When the tiny finger touched the flame—
WHUMP.
The ghostly fire surged and poured into Fort's body.
The boy's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
Davy caught him before he hit the ground.
Expected.
For ordinary people, the soul's shock forced the body into temporary shutdown—a protective reset.
"When you wake up," Davy murmured, lifting the boy into his arms, "you'll adapt to the seed… and begin to change."
He looked toward the other children browsing toys below.
"Will it grow into something?"
His eyes softened.
"Yes.
Hope.
A fragile possibility."
Meanwhile—
"No—impossible! Give me the Den Den Mushi—I'll call and verify it myself!"
Clara's face turned pale. The noble air she always maintained collapsed instantly.
Across from her, the previously obsequious sheriff straightened, revealing a cold, disdainful smile.
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