Chapter 80 – The Weight of Oppression
The morning sun washed the harbor of Cleaica Kingdom in warm gold, its reflection shimmering across the polished marble towers that reached toward the sky. At first glance, the kingdom was dazzling—streets paved with white stone, fountains spilling clear water, banners fluttering with emblems of peace. To the Silverhair Pirates, it almost felt… too perfect.
Lisa leaned over the ship's railing as they slowly drifted into port. Her sharp navigator's eyes scanned the bustling cityscape. "On the surface, it looks like paradise." She exhaled, voice lowering. "But the wind tells a different story."
Arthur stood beside her, hands in his pockets, his silver hair catching sunlight. His Observation Haki stretched quietly across the city, faintly brushing the minds of the people within. He felt… hesitation. Fear. Chains invisible, but suffocating.
"It's like a theater," Arthur murmured. "The smiles are rehearsed. The laughter's hollow."
Behind them, Rio whistled while polishing his rifle, utterly unbothered. "Tch, paradise or hell, doesn't matter. As long as there's a decent tavern and a good view for my scope."
Surv, carrying a stack of fresh bread she'd pulled from the oven below deck, swatted his arm. "Rio, don't be insensitive! Can't you feel it? The people here are… it's like they're holding their breath."
Hiroshi stretched, yawning, hand on his sword hilt as if it were an extension of his body. "Arthur's right. It smells like fear." His gaze hardened. "The kind that comes when the Navy's shadow is thicker than the sun."
Even Clover, usually calm and detached, adjusted his spectacles with a frown. "This land… I know its history. Cleaica once defied the World Government a century ago. Brave, independent people. To see them reduced to this… it means someone crushed them with merciless force."
The words hung heavy.
Arthur exhaled, making his decision. "We move in small groups. Don't draw attention. We're not just pirates here—we're liberators. And liberators need to understand the chains before they break them."
The crew nodded, splitting off as the ship docked.
---
Arthur walked with Leo and Hiroshi through the main boulevard. Children played in clean plazas, merchants shouted cheerful deals, nobles strolled in silks. To a stranger, Cleaica was thriving.
But Arthur's Haki caught the tremors in voices. Mothers tugging children closer when Marines marched past. Old men looking away when tax collectors stomped by. Posters plastered on walls: "TRIBUTE DAY – GLORY TO THE CELESTIAL DRAGONS."
At a fountain, a boy accidentally dropped his toy in front of two Marines. He froze. The Marines sneered, one boot crushing the toy deliberately. The child didn't cry—he bowed, trembling, whispering, "Thank you, sirs."
Leo's fists clenched around the strap of his battle-axe case. His music usually carried warmth, but his face was pale with rage. "They've broken their spirit. Even children think obedience is survival…"
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's what oppression does. It doesn't just bind bodies. It chains the soul."
Hiroshi's eyes darkened. He saw the same expression he once carried, back when his village bowed to corrupt Marines for survival. He muttered, "If we don't cut those chains… who will?"
---
Meanwhile, Surv, Lisa, and Rus explored the lower districts. The further they walked from the polished marble, the starker the contrast became.
The scent of bread and roasted meat from stalls was sharp—but few could afford to eat. Children with hollow cheeks stared longingly at Surv's bag of bread. She hesitated only a moment before kneeling and handing out pieces. The kids' eyes lit like lanterns.
Lisa, observing quietly, realized the cruel trick of the kingdom: the illusion of abundance, but the reality of scarcity. Rich nobles feasted near the castle, while the common folk barely survived.
Rus, ever the practical shipwright, crossed his arms. "These people ain't starving because there's no food. Look—warehouses are full." He pointed at guarded silos near the docks. "They're stockpiling for tribute. Everything goes up to the Celestial Dragon."
Lisa's jaw tightened. "So the people suffer just to please a monster who'll never even taste their bread."
Surv trembled with fury, sparks flickering unconsciously at her fingertips. The sight of thin children and overfed Marines guarding silos pushed her patience to the brink. "One day… I'll burn their tribute ships to ash."
Lisa touched her shoulder gently. "Not yet. But soon."
---
Clover wandered toward the old library ruins—collapsed buildings the nobles ignored. His historian's heart beat faster. He knelt among cracked stone tablets, brushing off dust.
Inscribed words revealed fragments of Cleaica's forgotten defiance: "…freedom is the breath of men, no tribute shall bind us…"
Clover's eyes widened. He whispered, "They tried to resist. The Government erased not only their strength, but their memory."
As he traced the stone, CP9 agents watched from rooftops. A masked man smirked. "So, the Silverhair Pirates are already digging into things best left buried…"
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Tavern Bar
By dusk, the crew regrouped at a shabby tavern on the city's edge. The atmosphere was tense. Citizens glanced nervously at the door, as if Marines might storm in any second.
Rio tapped his glass of rum. "So, paradise my ass. This place is rotten to the core."
Surv slammed her palm on the table. "Rotten? It's worse! They're starving kids, tearing families apart! And those monsters—CP9, the Marines—they're using fear as a leash!"
Leo, quiet until now, strummed his instrument softly. A mournful note filled the tavern. "My family is part of that leash. My father was executed for defying the king. My mother and siblings rot in prison." His fingers tightened on the strings. "Every song I play is rebellion disguised as music. But songs alone can't break iron."
Arthur met his gaze steadily. "Then fight with us. We'll break the iron together."
The table fell silent. For a moment, even the tavern hushed, as if the kingdom itself listened.
Lisa, cautious, spoke first. "Arthur, are you really suggesting we liberate an entire kingdom? That means not just fighting Marines… but challenging the Celestial Dragons directly."
Arthur leaned back, eyes sharp. "If no one does it, then the seas will never change. The World Government thrives on fear. We'll show the people that fear can be broken."
Hiroshi smirked faintly. "A storm against gods, huh? Sounds like us."
Rio raised his glass. "Tch. Been a while since I shot something worth aiming at. I'm in."
Surv's sparks danced brighter. "Let's burn their chains."
Even Lisa sighed, a smile breaking through her caution. "Fine. But don't blame me if we get the entire Navy breathing down our necks."
Leo strummed harder, a fierce tune replacing sorrow. "Then let's give this kingdom a song of freedom it will never forget."
---
Night deepened. The streets echoed with marching boots. Marines paraded prisoners in chains; Leo's family among them forcing citizens to watch. The king's voice boomed, declaring tribute week and promising rewards for anyone who reported "pirate sympathizers."
The crew watched from the shadows. Surv's fists shook violently. "They're parading them like trophies."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. His Haki reached across the square, touching the pain of every heart forced to bow. This is the weight we'll break.
Beside him, Hiroshi muttered, "So this is what it looks like when gods play at kings."
Leo's knuckles whitened, blood dripping where his nails dug into his palms. He whispered, voice trembling but fierce: "Arthur… please. Save them. Save my family."
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, steady as iron. "We will. But not yet. The moment has to be perfect. When we strike, it won't be to rescue just your family… it will be to free the entire kingdom."
Leo's eyes filled with tears. He strummed a single note—defiant, trembling, but unbroken.
The sound carried faintly across the square. Citizens looked up. For the first time in years, a sound that wasn't fear pierced the silence.
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6. On the Horizon… Light
Far beyond the kingdom's shores, a Marine warship drifted closer. At its bow stood Kizaru, sunglasses glinting against the starlight.
He raised his hand lazily, scattering sparks of golden light into the night. The sea glowed faintly, as if touched by a false dawn.
"Oh dear," he murmured, his voice light as the breeze. "So this is where the little silver-haired star shines, hm? How bright will he burn before the light swallows him whole?"
The Marines aboard stiffened at his grin. They had seen what his "light" could do. And soon, Cleaica Kingdom would too.
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