Chapter 36: A Conversation with a Broken Man

Authors Note:

Donate some power stones the army needs your support.

I uploaded 6 chapters today because I uploaded none yesterday.

how is the quality of my work now? compliments, please. :)

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The beach was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore. Rhys, the last surviving member of Grint's crew, lay sprawled on the sand, blood oozing from wounds that marked the end of a losing battle. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a reminder of his crew's defeat, of the captain's reckless ambition, and the beast that had torn them apart.

Above him stood Vulcan, his shadow cast long across the beach in the fading light of the setting sun. His naginata rested at his side, and in his other hand, he lazily twirled a length of rope, almost casually, as if he had all the time in the world. His expression, however, was far from casual—his sharp eyes bore into Rhys with cold curiosity.

Rhys coughed, the sound wet and broken, and turned his head slightly to glance at Vulcan. His once-proud posture was reduced to a crumpled heap, barely able to hold his own gaze. "W-Why... why haven't you killed me yet?" Rhys rasped, his voice hoarse.

Vulcan tilted his head, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Oh, I'm in no rush. I've got questions first."

Rhys's brow furrowed as he tried to push himself up, but the weight of his injuries kept him pinned to the sand. He gave a weak, bitter laugh. "Questions? What do you want to know, Marine? You're standing there with that weapon of yours, ready to finish me off. What more could you want?"

Vulcan's eyes narrowed, the humor fading from his face. "The Grand Line," he said simply. "What's happening out there?"

Rhys blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. "The Grand Line?" he repeated, his voice laced with confusion. "Why do you care? You've been stuck on this rock. What do you even know about the Grand Line?"

"Not much," Vulcan admitted. His grip tightened slightly around his naginata. "That's why you're going to tell me."

Rhys let out another weak laugh, though this one was less mocking, more resigned. "You think I'm going to help you? After you wiped out my crew? You Marines are all the same—acting like you're the good guys, but deep down, you're just as rotten as the rest of us."

Vulcan crouched down, his eyes locking onto Rhys's. "Tell me about the power struggle in the Grand Line," he said, his voice cold. "Why was Grint so desperate for a Devil Fruit? Why chase power like that?"

Rhys hesitated, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, Vulcan thought he wouldn't answer, but then the pirate's lips twitched into a bitter smile.

"It's a mess out there," Rhys began, his voice low. "The Grand Line is chaos. The strongest pirate crews... they rule the seas, and most of them have a Devil Fruit user leading them. Power—real power—is the only way to survive."

Vulcan listened in silence, his expression unreadable.

"Grint thought that if we got our hands on one of those fruits, we'd have a chance. A chance to fight back... to survive. Ever since that bastard Torez and his crew tore us apart, we've been on the run—getting picked off, piece by piece, by stronger crews. It's a game, Marine. A game of who can rise to the top, and who gets crushed along the way."

Rhys's voice grew more strained as he continued. "Pirates... Marines... it's all the same out there. Everyone's fighting to survive. And the Grand Line? That's where the real monsters are. You think Grint was strong? He was nothing compared to the warlords and the Emperors ruling the seas."

Vulcan absorbed the information, his mind racing. The warlords, the Emperors of the Sea—these were names he had heard in passing, stories told by Marines who had fought on the front lines. But now, hearing it from someone who had lived it, who had been beaten down by the harsh reality of the Grand Line, it felt different. More real.

"And the Devil Fruit?" Vulcan asked, his eyes flicking briefly in the direction of the jungle where the fruit still lay, guarded by the beast.

Rhys gave a weak, humorless chuckle. "That fruit... it was supposed to be our ticket. Our chance to turn it all around. With the power of a Devil Fruit, Grint thought we could claw our way back... get revenge on Torez, and anyone else who got in our way."

The bitterness in Rhys's voice was unmistakable. "But now... now it's all gone. We chased that damned fruit, and look where it got us. Dead. All of us."

Vulcan remained silent for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. The weight of Rhys's words hung in the air, heavy with the reality of the world he was stepping into.

But there was still one thing that didn't sit right with him. One thing he had to know.

"Why?" Vulcan asked, his voice low and cold. "Why commit all those crimes? The innocents you hurt along the way... the people you left behind in your path. What was it for? Riches? Power?"

Rhys's smile faded as his eyes locked onto Vulcan's. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Then, Rhys let out a soft, tired laugh.

"Why else?" he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. "For riches and power, of course. What other reason is there?"

Vulcan's expression hardened. He straightened up, taking a step back as he processed Rhys's answer. The idea that so many people had suffered, had died, for something as petty as greed... it turned his stomach.

"You did all that... for something so small?" Vulcan asked, his voice quiet but filled with disbelief.

Rhys laughed again, though this time the sound was sharper, more mocking. "Small? It's everything, Marine. You think you're better than us? You think you've got some moral high ground because you wear that uniform?"

Vulcan's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Rhys's smile twisted into something darker as his gaze traveled over Vulcan's Marine recruit uniform. His voice grew louder, filled with venom. "You're no different. You Marines... you think you're righteous? You protect Celestial Dragons. You protect the slave trade in Sabaody. You turn a blind eye to the worst scum in the world because it's your job."

He spat on the ground, his body trembling with the effort. "There's no justice in that. You're just as much a part of this rotten system as the rest of us. At least we're honest about it. You're nothing but a naïve brat who knows nothing about the world."

Vulcan's grip tightened on his naginata, but his face remained expressionless.

"You talk about innocence... about doing the right thing... but you know nothing. You protect the rich, the powerful, the monsters in high places, while people like us get crushed under their feet."

Rhys let out a harsh, rasping laugh, the sound bitter and filled with contempt. "You think you're a hero? You're just a pawn. A tool for the ones with real power. You know nothing, Marine."

His laugh grew louder, echoing across the beach, until it was abruptly cut short.

The gleam of Vulcan's naginata caught the last rays of the setting sun as it sliced through the air. Rhys's eyes widened in shock, his hand instinctively reaching for his throat as blood spilled between his fingers. His laughter dissolved into a gurgle as his body crumpled to the sand.

Vulcan stood over him, his expression unreadable, as Rhys's final breath escaped into the quiet evening air.

For a long moment, Vulcan didn't move. Rhys's words echoed in his mind, refusing to be silenced.

Sabaody. The Celestial Dragons. The slave trade.

Vulcan's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the sun hung low, casting a warm, orange glow across the ocean. It was peaceful, serene, but the weight of the conversation lingered heavy in his chest.

Was it true? Was the world really as rotten as Rhys claimed? He had always believed in justice, in doing what was right. But now... now he wasn't so sure.

"You know nothing about the world..."

Vulcan closed his eyes, letting the wind brush against his face as he stood there, motionless. Had he been naïve? Blind to the truth? He had seen so little of the world—so much still lay beyond the horizon.

I know nothing, do I?

Vulcan opened his eyes, his expression hardening. No, he didn't know everything. But he would. He would learn. He would discover the truth for himself, no matter how ugly it was.

With one final glance at Rhys's lifeless body, Vulcan turned and walked toward the pirate ship anchored near the shore. His journey was far from over.