Douglas Bullet was exactly eight years old this year.
He was a young soldier serving in the military of the Hart Kingdom. But beneath his uniform, his bloodline told a different story: he was natively of the Vodka Kingdom.
Shortly after he was born, he had been abandoned by his mother in a war zone. The Hart Kingdom's army, which was locked in a bitter, endless border war with the Vodka Kingdom at the time, had found the infant. Instead of killing him, they adopted him.
Of course, the Hart Kingdom's military did not take him in out of the goodness of their hearts. They simply wanted to mold him into a living weapon.
The Vodka Kingdom's reputation as a nation of naturally gifted, bloodthirsty warriors was world-renowned. They frequently produced monstrous combatants capable of single-handedly tearing through entire battalions. The Hart Kingdom hadn't only adopted Bullet; there were several other abandoned Vodka Kingdom infants in the camps. The generals did this simply hoping to artificially cultivate one of those legendary 'war monsters' to serve their own flag.
Bullet was acutely aware of this cold reality, but he did not resent the Hart Kingdom for it. After all, if they hadn't picked him up, he would have died in the freezing mud long ago.
A few days ago, several refugee ships flying the tattered flag of the Vodka Kingdom had suddenly arrived at the Hart Kingdom's ports, bringing with them a piece of world-shaking news.
The Vodka Kingdom—the invincible warrior nation that had launched successful plundering wars every single year—had been utterly annihilated in a single afternoon. The ones who destroyed them were a pirate armada known as the Crimson Harvest Pirates.
"Hey! Bullet! Your homeland just got wiped off the map by a bunch of pirates! How does it feel?!"
At the edge of the Hart Kingdom's youth encampment, Bullet was resting his back against a barren tree. Suddenly, several child soldiers his own age surrounded him, sneering and kicking dirt at his boots.
Bullet opened his icy eyes, coldly scanning the boys surrounding him.
"The Vodka Kingdom has absolutely nothing to do with me," Bullet replied indifferently, his voice devoid of emotion. "My homeland is the Hart Kingdom."
"Haha! Here we go again!" the lead boy mocked, shoving Bullet's shoulder.
"A mere abandoned infant from the Vodka Kingdom actually has the nerve to claim he's from Hart!"
"You were born to a Vodka whore! You aren't one of us!"
"If you have Vodka blood for one day, you have it for life! Even if your miserable country is a smoking crater now, you will never be one of us noble Hart citizens!!"
Bullet's fists instantly clenched. The grass and dirt beneath his hands were crushed tightly within his palms.
"So what if it's exactly like you say?!" Bullet growled, standing up. "You 'noble' Hart citizens will still end up as disposable cannon fodder for the main forces on the battlefield, just like us Vodka orphans!"
Those harsh words made the Hart soldiers stiffen. As the saying goes, lies don't hurt, but the truth is a sharp knife. Their nearly identical, miserable circumstances as child soldiers instantly tore their pathetic sense of racial superiority to shreds.
But these boys were unwilling to admit that they and Bullet were equals in the meat grinder of war.
"Hmph! We Hart people are simply superior to you Vodka savages by birth!" the leading soldier yelled, desperately trying to regain his composure. "If you're not convinced, do you dare to make a bet with us?!"
Bullet, naturally, would never back down from a challenge. "What do you want to bet?"
"We bet on the War Medal!" the leading boy declared proudly. "The War Medal is only awarded to the single soldier who achieves the greatest military merit on the battlefield! We'll bet on who can earn the next one!"
The boy pointed a finger at Bullet's chest. "If you can get it, we will bow our heads and acknowledge you as a true Hart citizen! But if one of us gets it, you must get on your knees, admit that you are a Vodka savage, and admit that your people are forever inferior!"
Hearing this, Bullet's icy gaze swept over the nine young soldiers surrounding him.
"It's me, alone, against all nine of you?"
"What? Are you scared?!"
"No," Bullet said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I accept your challenge."
"Hmph! It should be us accepting your challenge, you savage!"
The bet between the two parties was thus rigidly established. And for the very first time in his life, Bullet developed a burning, all-consuming desire for the War Medal.
'As long as I can get that medal! I will be a war hero of the nation!' Bullet thought, his fists trembling with anticipation. 'By then, not only these guys, but everyone in the country will respect me! They will adore me! I will become a dignified Hart citizen! No longer the barbarian, the Vodka native, they call me!'
Meanwhile, back in the ruins of the Vodka Kingdom.
York already knew through Ginny's intelligence network that during the violent purge of the nobles, a few clever aristocrats had abandoned their estates and fled to the sea before the pirate vanguard could reach them.
York was entirely uninterested in expending valuable manpower and resources to hunt down such cowardly stragglers. After all, the only things that truly mattered were the vast tracts of land and the hoarded wealth they had left behind. As long as the property and territory were firmly in his grasp, hunting down a few exiled nobles would merely be a trivial side task during his future expansion wars.
Yesterday, York had successfully secured the absolute loyalty of the Crimson Harvest vanguard through a masterful combination of the carrot and the stick, while simultaneously instilling profound awe and terror into the surrendered Vodka Kingdom army.
Today, York issued an unprecedented decree.
He ordered the distribution of his personal share of the spoils—thirty percent of the 300 Billion Berry vault, totaling exactly **90 Billion Berries**—to be injected entirely into the civilian populace of the Vodka Kingdom. The public reason given was formal compensation for the decades of systemic abuse and warfare the former King and nobles owed them.
Of course, York was a pragmatic conqueror. While he distributed the staggering wealth, he simultaneously abolished all private ownership of the nation's territory, officially making every inch of the Vodka Kingdom state-owned property.
Following this decree, amidst the initial apprehension of the populace, York ordered the immediate redistribution of land-use rights. However, the absolute prerequisite for receiving a plot of land was to first complete a rigorous national identity registry and census.
Once a family's identity and household registration were officially entered into the Empire's new database, the farming and use rights were handed directly back to the people. Compared to the old regime, the citizens lost the right to buy and sell the land outright. But in return, because the sprawling, massive estates of the nobles and the royal family had been completely seized and divided, the average commoner received vastly more arable land than they had ever possessed before.
York's brilliant, sweeping reforms not only cemented the absolute loyalty of the military but also completely captured the hearts and minds of the civilian populace.
Overnight, the citizens resolved to completely forget the bloody, impoverished history of the Vodka Kingdom. They joyously proclaimed Atlas D. York as the First King of the newly founded Crimson Empire.
After spending nearly a month dealing with the endless, complex trivia of establishing a new government, economy, and military structure, York finally had a moment to breathe.
Sitting on the newly forged throne of the Crimson Empire, York—now officially recognized as a sovereign King by his people—formally summoned the brilliant scientist Myscina Asie, his daughter Olga, and the towering Oni warrior, Hanafuda.
"How about it?" York asked calmly, resting his chin on his hand as he looked down at the trio standing in the grand hall. "After observing my rule for a month, have you considered my offer? Are you willing to pledge your allegiance to me?"
"Hanafuda is willing to pledge his life's loyalty to His Majesty the King!"
The towering Ancient Zoan user didn't hesitate for a single second. He immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his horned head respectfully. He had seen York spare his people, execute the corrupt monarch, and rebuild his homeland into a true sanctuary. His loyalty was absolute.
Myscina Asie's expression struggled for a brief moment. He was a man of science, inherently distrustful of pirates.
But he had witnessed York's meticulous, brilliant governance of the country over the past month. He knew now that York was not the kind of mindless, pillaging pirate he had initially perceived him to be. York was a true conqueror—a visionary leader with profound ideals, terrifying ability, and overwhelming charisma.
Asie looked at his daughter, Olga, who gave him a small, encouraging nod.
The two of them stepped forward and bowed deeply to the throne.
"I, Myscina Asie, along with my daughter Olga," the scientist declared, his voice echoing through the throne room, "are willing to serve His Majesty York!"
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