The Saxon Kingdom.
From the port town, the Rocks Pirates slaughtered their way to the center of the island.
The army, gutted by the new King's pacifist policies, was utterly incapable of stopping the monsters of the New World.
As the advance continued, York witnessed the rotting core of this "wealthy" nation.
The Saxon Kingdom was hailed as a superpower of wealth and military might. The port town York had first landed in fit this description perfectly—luxury villas, paved streets, and well-fed guards.
But as he ventured inland, the facade crumbled.
He saw fields full of lush green wheat, yet the people working them were walking skeletons.
Every single serf was either emaciated, skin stretched tight over bone, or bloated with edema from severe malnutrition. They dragged their dying bodies through the mud, harvesting food they weren't allowed to eat.
In a ditch by the road, York witnessed a scene that stopped him cold.
Two families were huddled together. They weren't sharing food. They were weeping silently as they exchanged bundles.
They were swapping their children.
Because they couldn't bear to kill and eat their own, they traded them for the pot.
"Hell on earth," York muttered.
He had read about such things in the history books of his previous life, but witnessing the raw, cannibalistic desperation firsthand was different.
His eyes grew cold.
He stormed towards the nearest structure—a noble's castle.
It was a classic Western-style fortress, perched on a hill overlooking the starving village.
On the battlements, well-fed soldiers stood guard. A middle-aged noble in velvet and silk looked down at York, holding a scented handkerchief to his nose.
"Pirate! You won't take this place! Retreat immediately!"
The noble's voice was arrogant, dismissive. He spoke to York like one would speak to a stray dog.
York suppressed his killing intent. He pointed a finger at the skeletal figures in the fields.
"Are those people yours?"
The noble scoffed. "That is none of your business! Get lost, filth!"
York frowned slightly. Then, a serene, terrifying smile bloomed on his face.
He sheathed his blood-stained katana. He clasped his hands together in prayer.
"Holy Light Illumination."
He began to glow, shining like a descending Buddha against the gray sky.
"Judgment: The Sin of Hunger."
"Countless people have died of empty stomachs on your land... so I shall bestow upon you the 'Joy of Satiety'!"
FLASH!
The Holy Light washed over the castle walls.
The soldiers, the archers, and the arrogant noble—none could escape it. Their bodies collectively trembled. Their expressions of disgust melted away, replaced by smiles of pure, unadulterated happiness.
"Oh... I'm so full..."
"I can't eat another bite..."
"My stomach... it's bursting with joy..."
BOOM!
York raised his hand. An invisible blast of Emission (Advanced Armament Haki) shattered the castle gates.
Radiating holy light, he walked through the courtyard. He swept through the great hall, the kitchens, the bedrooms. He found every hiding noble, every guard, and bestowed upon them the curse of eternal fullness.
When York exited the castle, a squad of Rocks pirates finally arrived from the port town, sacks of loot already over their shoulders.
York deactivated his ability.
"The people inside have lost the will to resist," York said calmly. "Don't harm the men. Just take the wealth."
He paused, his eyes darkening.
"Of course... if you're interested in the noblewomen inside... feel free to play."
With that, York walked away, heading for the next castle.
The pirates watched his back for a moment, then grinned and rushed the gate.
"Kill!!"
They swung their sabers, cutting down the first few guards they saw.
But they froze.
Usually, victims screamed. They begged. Their faces twisted in terror.
But these guards... as their heads were severed, they died with satisfied, blissful smiles.
The pirates shuddered. They recognized that smile. It was the same smile they wore every time York healed them on Hachinosu.
Back then, immersed in the pleasure, it felt like heaven.
Seeing it now, as a bystander, looking at a dying man smiling while his blood pooled on the floor... it was creepy as hell.
"The feeling of being full... it's wonderful~~"
The middle-aged noble stumbled out of the main keep.
The pirates raised their swords, wary of a trap.
BURP!
The noble let out a loud, wet belch. He patted his stomach, which wasn't actually distended, but he acted as if he had just eaten a ten-course meal.
"No... don't steal my dessert..." Burp. "Guards... kill these pirates..."
"We can't, my lord..." a guard moaned, leaning against a wall. "We're too full... let us digest..."
"Bastards!"
The noble tried to draw his sword, but he moved sluggishly, like a man in a food coma.
Seeing this, the pirates' fear turned to sneers.
"Die, fatty!"
SLASH!
A pirate decapitated the noble effortlessly. Then they swarmed the castle.
From the upper floors, the screams of noblewomen began to echo. York didn't look back.
Several days later.
The plundering of the Saxon Kingdom was complete.
The resistance was pathetic. Occasionally, a "strong" knight would appear, only to be crushed in a single blow by Whitebeard or Shiki.
The Rocks fleet—28 ships heavy with gold—sailed away brazenly before the Marines could arrive.
On the shore, the starving commoners watched the ships leave. Their eyes were filled with deep resentment.
Not because the pirates stole the wealth. But because...
"Why didn't they kill all of them?!"
When Sengoku finally arrived leading the Marine task force, the island seemed strangely peaceful.
The serfs were still starving. The nobles were still in their castles.
But as Sengoku investigated, he found a horror he couldn't explain.
In the Royal Palace, the surviving King hosted a banquet for the Marines. The table was groaning under the weight of roasted meats, fine wines, and exotic fruits.
Yet, the King and his ministers sat there, gaunt and skeletal. Their eyes were sunken, their skin gray. They looked like they hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Your Majesty," Sengoku asked, putting down his glass. "With so much food... why aren't any of you eating?"
"Because we're not hungry."
The King smiled. It was a beatific, holy smile that looked gruesome on his skull-like face.
Sengoku frowned. "Not hungry? Your Majesty, look at yourself. You are starving to death. When was the last time you ate?"
"Last time? Hmm... maybe three days ago? Or was it four?"
The King waved a dismissive hand.
"Since the Rocks Pirates' visit, we have not felt the pangs of hunger."
"Admiral, you might find it absurd," the King whispered reverently, "but I believe this is a blessing from God!"
"We disbanded our armies. We chose peace. We chose dialogue! Our good intentions moved the Heavens!"
The King patted his empty, starving stomach.
"God has bestowed upon us the miracle of eternal satiety! We are the chosen ones!"
Sengoku stared at the delusional, dying King. A chill ran down his spine.
This isn't a blessing, Sengoku realized. This is a curse.
Atlas D. York.
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