Chapter 20: The End of a Tyrant

The cold, echoing silence of the palace halls sharpened my senses as I closed in on the king's private quarters. I moved swiftly, steps muffled against the polished marble, following the trail of faint, panicked sounds, heavy breathing, hurried footsteps, a door hastily slammed shut. Alastor was running, but not far enough to escape what he had set in motion.

At the end of a long corridor, I found the door to his study, the last barricade between us. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and pushed it open.

King Alastor stood at the far side of the room, backed against a window that spilled dawn's first light over his gilded frame. His face, usually twisted in arrogance, was now contorted in terror. The man who had once ordered lives traded like trinkets, who had held this island in a grip of greed and control, was cowering. A broken, defeated figure.

"Do you understand now?" I asked, stepping into the room, my voice steady, my gaze unyielding. "Power doesn't come from money or a title. It's earned."

Alastor's hands trembled as he clutched at his robes, trying to gather some remaining shred of composure. "Y-You think you'll get away with this? I'm protected by the World Government!" he spat, though the fear in his voice betrayed him. "When they hear of this, they'll send forces you couldn't dream of stopping."

I leveled my gaze, my tone hard. "Let them come. The world you hide behind won't save you."

For a fleeting moment, defiance flared in his eyes, as if he still thought he could bargain his way out. But he saw the resolve in my stance, and that glimmer of hope died as quickly as it had come.

"You could have used your position to create something lasting," I continued, voice low but firm. "Instead, you chose greed, tyranny, and fear. You're a parasite, Alastor, and it's time for that to end."

Without another word, I closed the distance between us. His back hit the wall, eyes widening as he realized there was nowhere left to run. His voice broke, pleading, the bravado stripped from his words.

"Please… I-I'll give you anything. Gold, land, women, whatever you want. Just… just spare me."

A cold, bitter calm settled over me as I looked down at him, the reality of his desperation sinking in. "Your offers mean nothing to me."

And with one swift, final strike, it was over. His body slumped to the ground, his expression frozen in disbelief as life slipped away.

The king was dead.

....

I wasted no time. There could be no trace of what had happened here, no clue leading back to me. I quickly went through Alastor's chambers, removing anything that might connect me to his death, and then I worked my way through the scattered bodies of his guards, taking what I could use, keys, identification tags, anything I could later repurpose.

My fingers brushed over the Cipher Pol agent's manuals once more. Their worn leather covers held powerful techniques, secrets reserved for the government's elite, and I had absorbed every detail.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of flames as I set the remnants of my work alight, erasing all traces of this confrontation. The fire grew, consuming the paper, the wood, and the last fragments of Alastor's life and rule.

....

The city was still shrouded in early morning quiet as I slipped from the palace grounds, blending into the empty streets. My task here was done, but I wasn't yet free of the consequences. I had drawn the attention of the government, and no doubt they would come looking for answers.

The Grand Line was vast, but they had resources. If I was to survive, to continue my work and grow stronger, I needed to keep moving, and be prepared.

The docks weren't my next destination, not yet. There was someone I needed to see before I left this island for good.

....

I knocked softly on the back door of Mirabel's workshop, my senses tuned for any sign of pursuit, of footsteps that didn't belong. But the night stayed quiet. Mirabel opened the door, her face immediately lighting up with relief and something deeper that she didn't voice.

"Orion… I wasn't sure you'd made it," she murmured, eyes scanning over me as if checking for injuries. The worry in her gaze softened as she saw that I was unharmed.

"Alastor's done," I said simply, the weight of the words settling between us.

She nodded, her expression a mixture of relief and sadness. "Good. This island… it needed someone to break the cycle." She took a breath, stepping aside to let me in, the air between us heavy with unspoken words.

In the dim light of her workshop, surrounded by the machines and tools that had once been my escape from the palace, we talked quietly, our voices low. The island had taken its toll on both of us, and I could see the relief in her eyes, tempered by the knowledge that this was goodbye.

"Will you stay here?" I asked, though I already sensed her answer.

Mirabel smiled faintly. "No. I think it's time I moved on, too. Too many memories here, and too many risks. But where will you go?"

"The New World," I replied. "There's more to discover there. The technology, the materials, they're like nothing here."

Her expression grew thoughtful, and there was a flicker of something in her gaze that was hard to read. She stepped closer, reaching up to brush her fingers along the line of my jaw. "I knew you wouldn't stay here long. Men like you never do."

....

When the first light of dawn spilled through the window, I lay awake, looking at Mirabel's peaceful form beside me. Her dark brown hair fanned across the pillow, and for a moment, the urge to stay, to linger in this moment, threatened to pull me back. But I knew that whatever lay ahead wouldn't wait for me.

I reached over, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel her stir. She opened her eyes, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked up at me. "Leaving already?" Her voice was soft, but there was no bitterness.

"Yes," I replied, my tone resolute. "I can't stay here. I have to go, to keep moving forward."

She watched me, the warmth in her gaze fading into understanding. She sat up, the sheets falling around her shoulders, and took my hand in hers. "Take me with you," she whispered.

Her words took me by surprise, but as I met her gaze, the depth of her offer became clear. She wasn't just asking to escape this place. She was offering to face the dangers, the unknowns, whatever awaited us together.

I weighed the risks, the uncertainty of the journey, but there was something about Mirabel, her strength, her resilience, and the fire in her that matched my own. I could see it in her eyes: she understood the risks. She wanted the freedom to chase her own ambitions, too.

Finally, I nodded. "Then let's go."

....

The dock was quiet when we arrived, the first rays of morning sunlight casting a silvery glow over the water. I made quick work of the final preparations, securing supplies and making the necessary adjustments to the rigging. Mirabel worked alongside me, her movements practiced and steady.

As the sun climbed higher, we hoisted the anchor and set sail, feeling the familiar rush as the ship glided forward, leaving the island shrinking in the distance. The morning light glinted off the water, a reminder of the freedom that lay ahead.

After a time, Mirabel emerged from below deck, grinning as she joined me at the helm. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement and a bit of challenge.

"As i said before, we are heading to the New World." I replied, scanning the horizon. "There's an island called Punk Hazard. They say it holds knowledge and technology unlike anything else."

Her eyes widened, excitement flashing in her gaze. "Punk Hazard. The name sounds… dangerous."

I grinned, feeling the thrill of adventure stir within me. "It is. But if we want to make something that lasts, we'll need to take risks."

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