Chereads / One Piece: Sorcerer in the Grand Line / Chapter 12 - Tears and Fury

Chapter 12 - Tears and Fury

The villagers stood frozen, their faces pale, their bodies trembling under the weight of what they had just witnessed. Fear hung thick in the air, but it wasn't alone. Beneath it, something else stirred—a bitter anger that simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. The quiet sobs of grief and shock slowly filled the air, but there was also a stifled rage.

The elder of the village lowered his gaze. His eyes were filled with the torment of responsibility. One of his men had just been executed before his eyes, and the killer stood only a few feet away. His jaw clenched with the weight of helplessness. He had tried to protect his people through diplomacy and submission, but all he could see now were the corpses of those he'd failed. His hands were bound not by shackles but by fear.

Yet, not everyone in the crowd was so resigned. Some villagers, less than half, perhaps even fewer, still clung to their anger. A few among them faces twisted with fury, glared at the pirates, their spirits not yet broken. A young boy, not yet sixteen, clenched his fists and shifted as if he were about to lunge at Pal, rage burning in his eyes. But two older men near him quickly held him back, sensing his intent. With whispered words, they reined in his fury, though how long they could temper such anger was still unanswered.

Pal's cruel eyes drifted across the crowd, and he could feel the weight of their stares—some filled with terror, others with hatred. He squinted, noticing the grimaces of the villagers, their simmering rage barely contained. 'What are these fools thinking?' Pal mused, irritated by the fire he saw in their eyes. He didn't like it. Anger was dangerous. He had seen what anger could become if it wasn't crushed quickly.

Hecr, ever more perceptive, sensed the shift in the air. He glanced at Pal and, without a word, gestured for his companion to step back. Then, he turned his icy gaze to the elder. "From now on," Hecr said, his voice as cold and sharp as steel, "every man who fails to pay at least half of what they owe will die on the spot." His words were not a threat—they were a promise, one backed by the iron certainty in his voice. "And next month, Elder, you'll all pay double."

The pirates ruled through terror, and there wasn't a soul on the island who doubted that. The villagers understood too well that any hope, any flicker of resistance, would be met with swift and merciless brutality. Hecr knew this as well—knew that if he allowed even a spark of defiance, it would spread like wildfire. So he stomped out the flame before it could grow.

The pirates continued their grim procedure, taking the villagers' money with cold efficiency, ignoring the simmering hatred that radiated from a few brave souls. But the dominant emotion in the air was something more insidious: helplessness. The villagers had been beaten down, their weapons seized, and their numbers halved after their futile struggle against the pirates.

 

Pal finished counting the coins handed to him by one man. "This is short," He muttered, his voice low but sharp. "You forgot to pay for the second member of your family. That's another forty-three thousand."

The man standing before him, trembling with fear, wrung his hands together. "I'm sorry," he stammered, his eyes avoiding the pirates' gaze. "That's all I have."

Pal's eyes flared with rage, his hand instinctively reaching for his pistol. His patience, already worn thin, snapped like a twig. Without a word, he raised his gun, aiming it squarely at the man's head. The crowd tensed, hearts pounding. Some looked away, unable to bear the sight of another execution. Others leaned in, fear and fury mixing in their eyes, waiting for the inevitable gunshot.

But before Pal could pull the trigger, a young girl burst from the crowd, placing herself between her father and the pistol. She spread her arms wide, her face hard with determination. The crowd gasped, a collective shock rippling through the villagers.

"Sylvie, what are you doing?" her father croaked, his voice thick with anxiety and disbelief.

Sylvie was striking, with an athletic build that hinted at a fierceness beyond her years. Her short, dark blue hair framed her determined face, and she wore a gray jacket that ended just above her navel, leaving her toned stomach exposed. Dark pants clung to her legs, and despite her smaller frame, she stood tall in front of her father.

"Shut up, Father," she said, her voice firm, filled with the kind of anger that dared the pirates to test her resolve. "I won't let you die over this."

The villagers watched in stunned silence. Pal's finger hovered near the trigger, his face contorting in surprise. But in Sylvie's stance, in the sharpness of her words, there was no hesitation.

"I don't care about your drama. If you don't back off, I'll shoot both of you," Pal said, irritation dripping from his voice as he leveled the pistol toward Sylvia and her father.

"Wait," the elder finally spoke up, his tone pleading. "Please, spare them. They're the only engineers in our village. Without them, we won't be able to maintain our trade, and there's no way we'll pay off our debts next month."

Pal sneered, dismissing the elder's words with a wave of his hand. "I don't give a fuck. You should be thankful there's only one corpse on the ground so far," he growled.

The elder's face darkened, his emotions swirling behind a fragile mask of calm. He blamed himself for everything—the deaths, the misery, the impossible choices. Every consequence seemed to fall squarely on his shoulders, and its weight was crushing.

"Take me instead," Sylvia's father suddenly spoke, his voice trembling with determination. "If someone has to die, it should be me."

"No!" Sylvia exclaimed, fiercely stepping between her father and Pal's gun. Her eyes blazed with anger, defiance etched into every inch of her face.

Pal's sneer widened. "As you wish," he muttered, stepping closer. Without warning, he struck Sylvia across the face with the butt of his pistol. The blow sent her reeling, and she stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. But in a display of grit, she caught herself and surged back to her feet, grabbing onto Pal's arm with a strength that surprised even him.

"Get your hands off me!" Pal roared, but Sylvia held on, her grip as unyielding as that of a lioness clawing at her prey. Her father gasped, torn between fear and awe at his daughter's bravery.

Pal's patience, already razor-thin, snapped. With a grunt, he drove his knee hard into Sylvia's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped, clutching her middle, and before she could recover, Pal followed up with a brutal strike to her head. She crumpled to the ground, barely conscious.

Pal raised his pistol again, this time aiming squarely at Sylvia's father. "I'm done playing games," he said coldly, ready to pull the trigger.

"Wait," Hecr's voice cut through the tension like ice.

"What now?" Pal snapped, glaring at his companion.

Hecr ignored Pal's outburst and turned to the father, his gaze sharp. "Is this girl Sylvia Graves?"

The father, terrified and confused, managed a shaky nod. "Y-yes…," he said, his voice barely a whisper, trying to make sense of why Hecr would care about his daughter's name.

Hecr's expression didn't change. "We'll spare her and your life," he said, his tone cold and calculated. "But she's coming with us until all your debts are paid."

Pal looked baffled. "What the hell do we need her for?" he demanded, his frustration bubbling over.

"I've heard of her skills," Hecr replied, his eyes narrowing. "She could be useful to us."

The father's heart plummeted at the words. Relief mixed with terror—his daughter would live, but in the hands of the pirates. He had no idea what they would do to her, or when, if ever, he'd see her again.

Pal, clearly irritated by the interruption, shrugged. "Eghh Fine." He holstered his gun, a tired sneer still lingering on his face. "At least we're getting something out of this mess."

The elder, though relieved that the situation hadn't turned into outright slaughter, felt the heavy weight of guilt pressing down harder than ever. His mind raced with thoughts of how to repay the growing debts and, more importantly, how to get Sylvia back.

Pal and Hecr wasted no more time. They spent a few more minutes collecting money from the remaining villagers, the tension thick in the air as the crowd silently endured the humiliation.

"We're finally done here," Pal sighed, rubbing his temples as if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He glanced at the elder, his expression void of empathy.

Hecr roughly grabbed Sylvia's arm, dragging her to her feet. She winced, still disoriented from the blows, but managed to stay upright. Without another word, Hecr turned toward the elder. "Until next month," he said coldly, before leading Sylvia away, Pal trailing behind him as they disappeared down the beaten path back to the pirate base.

The villagers left in the wake of the pirates' departure, finally allowed themselves to breathe again. The tension lifted, but it left behind a residue of fear and uncertainty that clung to everyone. The elder stood motionless for a moment, his face heavy with guilt. He had failed to protect his people yet again.

Sylvia's father, however, was a broken man. His gaze remained fixed on the path the pirates had taken his daughter down, his mind consumed by torturous thoughts. What had he done? What would they do to her? His failure as a father gnawed at him, and the weight of his helplessness was unbearable.

"Finally, those bastards are gone," someone muttered bitterly.

"Yeah," agreed an old man, his voice weary. "I thought the stress was going to kill me."

"How are we going to come up with that much money by next month?" a woman said, her voice tinged with despair.

Another woman sighed. "One thing at a time. We can't worry about that today. We'll think of something tomorrow."

The crowd slowly began to disperse, each person returning to their homes, burdened by the weight of the day's events.

The elder, rising to his feet, approached Sylvia's father, his guilt mirrored in the man's hollow eyes. "We'll find a way," the elder promised, though his words felt empty even as they left his lips. "We'll pay off the debts and get her back. I swear it."

The father stared blankly ahead, the grief in his eyes like a dull flame. "Thank you," he said, his voice flat, devoid of hope.

The elder placed a hand on the father's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, though neither felt the warmth of it. They parted ways, each man lost in his own despair, burdened by the weight of promises that felt impossible to keep.

 

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Hi!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter

Some of you may find this beginning too drawn out and dramatic, but I just want to lay a fairly solid foundation before the finale of this arc.

And also this story is not about MC's suffering, he won't be a wimp and will be able to fight back, after all he has Gojo's powers) But all in good time.

If you like this story then add it to your collection and give Power Stones.