The spring winds of the South Blue swept across Sorbet Kingdom like blades, cutting through the land.
What met the eye was nothing but scorched earth and ruin.
Kuma, fearing that his presence would bring misfortune to his people, had once chosen to leave Sorbet Kingdom.
King Bekori regained his throne.
But his nature never changed.
Though he had once been humiliated, driven out of his own palace by Kuma, the moment he reclaimed power he only grew worse.
In the south, he lit another fire. Tens of thousands were burned alive.
The survivors? All sold to slavers.
When Jin told Kuma of this, he rushed back in anguish.
The wind howled.
Sorrow clung to the air.
Kneeling on the ground, Kuma gently lifted from the dirt a charred corpse of a child—still cradled in his dead father's arms.
The townsfolk, people Kuma knew.
He remembered the child. He remembered their family.
Tears streamed down his face.
Crows circled overhead.
The bodies were countless.
Jin looked on in silence.
Behind the laughing masks of pirates, the world was still drenched in blood and sorrow.
The Goa Kingdom.
Ohara.
Alabasta.
Fishman Island.
Elbaf…
Every country hid its own twisted, dark chapter.
And so pirates were born. So the Revolutionary Army rose.
The age itself, and those in power, had created this cycle.
Kuma's voice cracked.
"What should I do? What's the right thing?"
Jin glanced at him.
Kuma's fury was immense—but buried deep, suppressed beneath the weight of his pacifist nature.
When faced with tragedy, he endured, escaped, avoided.
Too soft. Too weak.
Jin's words cut like steel:
"Where there is oppression—there must be resistance.
Bekori sits on his throne, feasting on his people's suffering, sleeping on the gold he makes from selling them as slaves.
What do you think should be done?"
Kuma fell silent.
Jin's voice rose, calm but commanding:
"The time for resistance has come.
This is not stirring hatred—it is awakening conscience.
This is not destroying order—it is rebuilding justice.
If the world itself is absurd…
If kings themselves are absurd…
If the dreams, hopes, and cries of the people are met only with cold silence and cruel hostility…
Then if a man does not resist—what makes him different from a worm?
If life is born into absurdity—
then in order not to be enslaved, in order to find meaning worth living for in despair,
resistance is inevitable.
Only through resistance can man prove his dignity and the worth of his existence.
With great power… comes great responsibility."
Rumble!
A peal of thunder split the sky.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, rolling in without notice.
"Thunder?" Jin muttered.
Law frowned. "A storm already?"
The sea winds wailed like the voices of a thousand ghosts.
Jin's gaze sharpened. Somewhere beyond the coast—something monstrous was coming.
Kuma trembled, Jin's words echoing within him. He remembered their first meeting. He remembered what Jin had once said.
Kuma rose to his feet.
Bekori must die. He was the root of all suffering.
In The Northern Castle, Bekori indulged in luxury, flush with coin from selling the southern poor into slavery.
This year's Heavenly Tribute was already covered, with plenty to spare.
The only thing he had learned from his previous defeat was to surround himself with guards.
Layers of defenses, a team of highly paid mercenaries.
But against a man with two Devil Fruits—against Kuma, consumed by righteous fury—it was nothing.
His anger, suppressed for too long, finally exploded the moment he saw that child's corpse.
Boom!
Like a missile, Kuma shot across the sky from the south to the north.
His massive frame smashed through five-meter-thick castle walls in a single impact.
"Who goes there?!"
"Stop!"
The mercenaries rushed forward. But before they could get close, they were swatted aside by blasts from Kuma's palms.
Even then—too kind—he didn't kill them. Only knocked them away.
Smoke curled from his massive body. His shadow fell long across the ruined stone.
His presence alone pressed down like a mountain.
"Th-that's…"
"The Tyrant Kuma!"
The guards trembled in terror.
"Open fire! Kill him!"
Bullets and cannon fire rained down.
This fortress—built from the flesh and blood of the people—was stocked with weapons enough to last a year.
But Kuma ignored it all.
Step by step, he walked forward, eyes blazing with memories.
The old men he had prayed with.
The children whose laughter had warmed his heart.
The neighbors he had known all his life.
His fury reached its peak.
"Pressure Cannon!!!"
With a roar, a white shockwave burst from his palm.
BOOM!
The ten-ton iron gates were blasted off their hinges, shattered into rubble.
Guards waiting behind the doors were crushed to paste in an instant.
"Block him! Don't let him through!"
Bullets poured down.
Kuma stepped forward—stone cracked beneath his feet. The floor sank, spiderweb cracks spreading outward.
The mercenaries faltered.
The sheer weight of his presence broke their will.
They scattered.
None could stop him.
Once more, Kuma stood before Bekori.
The king cowered, his shadow swallowed beneath Kuma's massive frame.
Still, he shrieked from his throne, desperate:
"Bastard! You dare return?! I am the king! Kill me, and the people will die with me!
You drove me out before, and I still came back!
I am the King of Sorbet!"
It wasn't courage.
It was madness—the hysteria of a man drowning in fear.
Kuma's gaze was ice.
He raised his hand.
Bekori's legs shook violently. He felt it—this time Kuma truly meant to kill him.
White light gathered in Kuma's paw.
"W-wait! Don't kill me! Aren't you a pacifist?!"
The word struck Kuma. His hand hesitated for a moment.
Seeing a sliver of hope, Bekori groveled.
"I'll give you money! All the money you want! Use it to save those worthless peasants!"
A cold laugh echoed.
"That money was stolen from the people. Every coin stained in blood. And you want to use it to buy your life?"
"Who said that?!" Bekori screamed, enraged.
"I am the king! Those peasants exist to serve me!
Is it wrong for them to sell themselves to feed their king? Is it wrong?!"
Kuma froze. Then his gaze sharpened.
"No… it is not wrong?"
"Then tell me—by what right?"
The light in his paw flared, pressing downward.
The kneeling king's face went pale.
"W-wait! I was wrong! I can tell you! The slaves—I can tell you where they were sent!"
Kuma's hand paused.
"It was the World Government. They took them. To a place called the Kingdom of Bridges."
Kuma's eyes widened. The World Government?
So that was why Bekori had dared so much.
And no wonder the papers had stayed silent. The truth had been buried.
Only thanks to Jin's allies—Crocodile and Baroque Works—did they know anything at all.
"The Kingdom of Bridges…" Kuma whispered.
Bekori sneered. "If you kill me, the World Government will take notice. They'll slaughter everyone. Do you want them to die with me?"
He thought he had Kuma cornered. Kuma was too kind, too soft. Easy to manipulate.
Jin said nothing. This was Kuma's choice. His test.
Bekori smirked, thinking he had won.
Pathetic beast. Too soft to even kill me. Once this is over, I'll bleed the peasants harder than ever.
But then—
Kuma's paw came down.
"Ursus Shock!!!"
A blinding white explosion erupted, expanding outward in a hemisphere of destruction.
For a heartbeat, silence.
As if the world itself had gone still.