Those Who Would Never Return!

Late at night, Locke Village lay shrouded in a suffocating silence.

Inside the crude wooden house, the faint kerosene lamp flickered unsteadily.

Rochi lay flat on the hard wooden bed, his eyes closed and his breathing even, as though he had already fallen asleep.

Beside him, his older sister Roski had been so badly frightened during the day and had cried for so long that she was now curled into a ball.

Creak—

The battered wooden door was gently pushed open, and heavy, somewhat unsteady footsteps slowly approached the bed.

Rochi did not open his eyes, but he could smell the strong stench of blood mingled with cheap medicinal herbs drifting through the air.

It was his father, Ron.

A large hand, rough as sandpaper and still trembling slightly, gently caressed Rochi's young cheek.

The movement was incomparably gentle, as if he feared breaking the most precious treasure in the world.

"Mary..."

Ron lowered his voice. His normally thunderous, rugged tone was now hoarse like a grinding wheel, filled with endless exhaustion and resolve.

"After I leave, take good care of our children."

"No matter how hard it is, you must raise them."

Mary, standing behind Ron, clamped a hand tightly over her mouth to keep herself from crying out. Yet tears poured down like a burst dam, soaking her clothes.

She suddenly threw herself into Ron's broad embrace, her voice trembling beyond recognition.

"Ron! Let's run! Take the children and flee into the back mountains tonight! At worst, we'll live like savages in the deep mountains. I can't lose you!"

"We can't escape..."

Ron shook his head despairingly. A smile uglier than tears twisted across his face, its broken nose wrapped in bandages.

"If our family runs, and that officer can't count enough people tomorrow morning, every one of the more than two hundred people in Locke Village will be slaughtered."

He held his wife tightly, as though trying to knead her into his very flesh and blood.

"I went door to door, bowing and begging all night... In the end, we barely managed to gather twenty able-bodied men."

At that point, the burly man, built like a bear, suddenly choked up.

"But, Mary, this is the village's last remaining bloodline. From now on, Locke Village will probably be left with only the old, weak, sick, and disabled..."

The atmosphere in the wooden house was bleak beyond measure.

The couple clung desperately to each other, their stifled sobs echoing through the night, filled with helplessness before fate and unbearable reluctance to part.

Rochi, lying on the bed, still kept his eyes shut and did not move.

Yet beneath the shadow at the edge of the blanket, his tiny hands had already clenched into fists.

His nails mercilessly pierced the tender skin of his palms. Bright red blood seeped through his fingers, drop by drop, splattering onto the sheets and blooming into glaring crimson flowers.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn World Government! Damn this weakness!

Rochi roared madly in his heart like a wounded beast, the rage deep within his soul nearly burning away all his reason.

Enlist in the army? Achieve glory and success?

Don't make him laugh!

In this cruel Great Pirate Age, these people were nothing more than cannon fodder used by those in power to plug the holes of war, laborers forced to build luxurious palaces for the Celestial Dragons, expendable goods not even worthy of having names!

Once they boarded that ship, they were no different from the dead!

But he could not move. He could not rush out and fight for his life.

If he rushed out now, he would only die for nothing—and might even get his mother and sister shot dead on the spot by those beasts!

Strength... I need strength!

Rochi gritted his teeth, feeling the piercing pain from his palms as he carved tonight's humiliation and helplessness, along with the image of that gaunt officer, deep into the very depths of his soul, stroke by stroke!

The next morning.

The sky had only just begun to pale when heart-rending cries of despair rose from Locke Village's dock.

A massive sailing ship bearing the World Government's cross flag was moored by the shore, like a steel beast with a bloodstained maw thrown wide open.

Ron walked at the front of the group.

His face was badly swollen, and his steps were heavy, but his back remained ramrod straight.

Behind him followed nineteen young men from Locke Village, their expressions numb and their faces ashen.

Some of them had only just gotten married, while others had not even turned sixteen.

"Dad—!"

"My son! You damned bandits!"

Beyond the cordon, the remaining villagers wept until they were nearly voiceless.

The elderly collapsed onto the ground, while women clutched their children and wailed in heartbreak.

But the fully armed soldiers showed no mercy. They raised their rifle butts and brutally struck anyone who tried to approach.

The gaunt officer stood on the deck, looking down at everything from above.

Covering his nose in disgust, he waved a hand. "Hurry up! Drive all these animals into the hold! I don't want to stay in this shitty place for even one more second!"

At the very last moment before boarding, Ron stopped.

He turned around, his gaze passing over the crowd before fixing firmly on Mary, Roski, and Rochi, who was expressionless in Mary's arms.

Live on...

Ron made no sound. He merely mouthed the last three words he would leave his family in this world.

Then he turned resolutely and walked into the dark cabin.

The massive anchor was raised, and the World Government ship gradually sailed farther away in the sea breeze before finally vanishing beyond the horizon.

On the beach, cries shook the heavens.

Mary clutched Roski and cried so hard she nearly fainted.

Six-year-old Rochi simply stood quietly in the sea wind, allowing the cold waves to slap against his ankles. His black eyes were as still and lifeless as an abyss, fixed upon the direction in which the ship had disappeared.

"One day, I'll personally trample every piece of trash standing high above this sea beneath my feet!"

From that day on, the six-year-old boy who had once been hardworking but otherwise normal died completely.

In his place stood a madman who would stop at nothing to pursue strength and torture himself.

No system to aid him? No famous master to guide him?

Then he would force his body beyond its limits in the most primitive, cruel, and brutal ways possible!

At eight, he carried a boulder weighing over a hundred pounds through howling wind and torrential rain, doing frog jumps at the edge of cliffs until his leg muscles tore and he passed out in the mud;

At ten, he plunged into the perilous deep sea every day, holding his breath as he fought against the currents, countless times having his entire body slashed bloody by sharp reefs;

At thirteen, he entered the depths of the back mountains alone and barehanded, brawling with the fiercest herds of wild boars. Covered in bloody holes from tusks, he dragged a Boar King weighing several hundred pounds back alive!

As the villagers watched him grow up, the pity in their eyes gradually turned into awe.

Whenever Mary and Roski saw Rochi return covered in blood, they would ache so badly that they clutched each other and wept, but no one could stop the boy whose eyes burned with the hellfire of vengeance.