Loguetown Harbor lay under a fine, relentless drizzle.
A massive Marine warship cut through the gray sea and occupied the prime berth with unceremonious authority.
The scabbard of the famed blade Konpira struck the deck with crisp, measured taps.
Momousagi Gion descended the gangway in tall wooden clogs, her justice coat draped loosely over her shoulders. Beneath her pink skirt, long legs moved with unhurried precision, each step steady enough to command attention without demanding it.
She stopped.
Without even glancing toward the man waiting for her, she lit a slender cigarette.
Smoke dissolved instantly in the rain.
"So this," she said coolly, "is your land of miracles?"
Her gaze shifted toward the crumbling entrance of the abandoned wine cellar.
"You dragged me across the seas for… a hole in the ground?"
Smoker stood rigid, twin cigars clenched between his teeth as rain streamed down his face.
He did not wipe it away.
"Vice Admiral… King is inside."
His voice was low.
Not fear.
Respect sharpened by battlefield instinct.
"He's… in seclusion."
"In seclusion?"
Gion flicked ash into the rain and gave a faint laugh.
The East Blue produced pirates barely worth cutting.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku's urgency felt excessive.
"Lead the way."
She crushed the cigarette beneath her clog.
"I'll see for myself what frightened you."
Inside the Wine Cellar
The air was damp and stale.
Dim bulbs flickered weakly overhead.
At the center of the cellar sat a man in a justice coat, back facing the entrance.
Gion paused the instant she crossed the threshold.
Interesting.
An ordinary recruit would have leapt upright at the sound of her footsteps.
This man did not move.
Was it arrogance?
Or composure?
Her thumb nudged the hilt of Konpira.
If he intended to test her authority, she would end it instantly.
Killing Intent
No explosion.
No flash.
But the air thickened.
The killing intent of a veteran swordswoman—tempered through countless battles and nearing admiral-class combat readiness—compressed the space.
Nearby barrels cracked.
Wine seeped across the floor.
The pressure focused on the man's back.
An ordinary soldier would collapse.
One second.
Two seconds.
He did not move.
Gion's eyes narrowed.
Then—
He slowly reached up…
and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders.
Unhurried.
Casual.
As if reacting to a draft.
The gesture felt less like resistance…
and more like disregard.
What Was Actually Happening
KING stared at the system panel on his retina.
[AFK Time: 48 Hours]
[Reward Preview: Super Deep-Sea Lung Capacity]
[Passive Skill: Absolute Balance (No Seasickness)]
[Attribute Points +25920]
"Nice…"
His Physique had exceeded 50,000.
He was still deciding allocation.
Then a cold draft brushed his neck.
"This cellar leaks air…?"
He shivered and tightened his coat.
Why was it always cold when he AFK'd?
Behind him, Gion's fingers froze on her sword.
Her full killing intent…
registered as a chill.
This was not resistance.
This was transcendence.
A state where killing intent dispersed before reaching the body.
Her hand withdrew from the hilt.
All contempt vanished.
She stepped forward.
This time, she inclined her head slightly.
Respect, restrained but unmistakable.
"Mr. King."
Her voice was clear.
"I am Gion, Vice Admiral Momousagi."
"I have come under urgent orders from Fleet Admiral Sengoku to invite you to Marine Headquarters for a report."
A pause.
Then the decisive addition:
"The Fleet Admiral guarantees access to the highest level of resources."
KING's Interpretation
Resources.
The word exploded in his mind.
Headquarters resources meant:
Better AFK environments.
Higher efficiency maps.
More attribute points.
He spun around instantly.
Bloodshot eyes locked onto her.
Resources!
Marineford AFK!
Office job AFK!
Dream life!
But to Gion—
Those eyes were feral.
Hunger.
Ambition.
A predator scenting opportunity at the center of world power.
Smoker broke into a cold sweat.
"…Okay."
KING answered immediately.
Too quickly.
"Let's go now."
Gion blinked.
Then understood.
He wished to return to the greater stage immediately.
"…Very well."
KING stood so fast the chair toppled.
He didn't bother with it.
He rushed outside.
Cold cellar air was unbearable.
Outside the Alley
He stopped.
The street was packed.
People.
Animals.
Cats lined rooftops.
Birds perched on streetlamps.
Stray dogs lay at the front.
The entire town blocked the road.
(It's over.)
KING's face turned pale.
Were they here for revenge?
Did he scare someone earlier?
With this many people, one spit each could drown him.
Could he run?
Where?
He froze.
What the Crowd Saw
The blond king stood at the alley entrance.
Silent.
Expressionless.
Eyes empty and distant.
A figure above worldly attachment.
Making his farewell to the mundane world.
"Mr. King…"
"Is he leaving already?!"
The plump woman dropped her egg basket.
Two weeks since his arrival:
Crime vanished.
Violence disappeared.
After the storm and Dragon incident, Loguetown felt invulnerable.
"Lord King, don't forget us!"
"We'll build you a statue!"
Voices swelled.
Cats howled.
Birds cried.
It resembled a ritual farewell.
KING had no idea what was happening.
He didn't dare speak.
He walked stiffly forward between Gion and Smoker.
Escorted through the crowd.
Departure
Only after boarding the warship and hearing the departure horn did his heart settle.
Waves rocked the vessel.
Instinctively, he gripped the railing.
He glanced back at Loguetown.
To him:
Checking balance.
Avoiding seasickness.
To those watching:
A final divine gaze.
A blessing bestowed before departure.
"Waaah! He's looking at us!"
"He remembers us!"
Cries echoed across the harbor.
Gion stood behind him, watching his figure against the sea wind.
Her grip tightened on Konpira.
Her eyes grew solemn.
This man was not returning to Marineford for a report.
He was walking toward the center of the era itself.
And the sea…
would not remain the same.