York beckoned with his hand, ordering the 180 loyalists who had sworn their oaths to form a separate, perfectly aligned vanguard at the very front of the square.
Then, with a sweeping wave of his arm, he commanded the official distribution of the spoils of war to commence.
Fifty percent of the staggering 300 Billion Berry hoard—exactly 150 Billion Berries—was to be distributed among the thousands of ordinary recruits of the Crimson Harvest Pirates.
Following York's newly established military laws, the shares were weighted. Those who died in battle would receive five equal shares of the treasure sent to their families. The severely wounded would receive three shares, and the lightly wounded would receive two shares.
In the invasion of the Vodka Kingdom, out of the original 5,000 pirates, a total of 325 had been killed in action, 158 were severely wounded, and 587 were lightly wounded.
After Ivankov and the quartermasters rapidly calculated the exact math, the official payouts were announced:
Every uninjured, ordinary member of the crew would receive a baseline payout of 20,824,656 Berries.
The lightly wounded would receive double that amount: 41,649,312 Berries.
The severely wounded would receive triple: 62,473,968 Berries.
The families of those killed in action would receive five times the base amount: 104,123,280 Berries.
When the literal box-filling stacks of green currency were brought before them, the eyes of the Crimson Harvest pirates turned completely red once more.
It wasn't that they hadn't seen large sums of money before, but it was the absolute first time in their miserable lives they had ever held this much personal wealth.
Consequently, even the uninjured men began to look at the wounded with drastically changed expressions. In their previous, smaller skirmishes along the Grand Line, a victory only yielded tens of millions of Berries total. After standard pirate distribution, the difference between an uninjured man and a wounded man amounted to a paltry few thousand Berries.
But now, a single-multiplier difference meant an extra twenty million Berries! In the past, how many merchant ships would they have had to risk their lives plundering just to hold this much cash?!
After the wounded recruits received their massive, rightful shares, their gazes toward York shifted into sheer fanaticism.
This Captain York truly was a god among men! 40 million Berries, 60 million Berries—he handed out fortunes without the slightest hesitation!
"CAPTAIN YORK!!"
Scores of wounded pirates, who had not yet expressed their loyalties, now stepped forward, tears streaming down their bruised and bandaged faces.
"We are willing to follow you to the death!!"
Naturally, many of the uninjured pirates, deeply envious of the wounded's treatment and eager to secure their own futures in this new empire, also passionately expressed their support.
York grinned at this. Although this massive second batch of pirates wasn't as inherently resolute as the first 180 men, their loyalty was entirely bought and paid for. At the very least, unless the Marines or the World Government could somehow offer them better terms and greater wealth—which was impossible—they would never betray him.
York beckoned again, ordering this massive group to form a second formation behind the 180 men of the vanguard.
After the entire Crimson Harvest fleet had been sorted into three distinct batches—the Vanguard, the bought loyalists, and the remaining, silent opportunists at the back—York's expression instantly hardened. His voice turned ice-cold.
"The benefits have been distributed to you! I have fulfilled every single one of my promises to you as your Captain!"
York drew his sword, the steel singing in the silent square.
"So now! Isn't it time for you to fulfill your promises to me?!"
As soon as those words echoed off the castle walls, the pirates who had just been quietly complaining about the strictness of the new military laws suddenly changed their expressions. A deep, primal sense of dread washed over the third formation.
Many instinctively turned, wanting to flee into the ruined city, but a massive, suffocating wall of dark purple Flame Clouds violently erupted behind them, blocking their escape.
Dragon, his green cloak billowing in the wind, stepped out of the shadows at the very rear of the square, his cold eyes fixed on the terrified pirates.
York's voice rang out like a judge's gavel.
"I stated my orders clearly before the battle began!" York roared. "In this operation, we were to strictly target the royal family, the corrupt nobles, and the defending army! I explicitly ordered that you must not harm a single hair on the heads of the unarmed commoners!!"
York raised his free hand, extending his fingers.
"Now! Those of you who violated my absolute order... step forward voluntarily! Confess, and I will spare your lives!"
York's eyes darkened with a terrifying Haki. "I will only give you ten seconds! Make your own decision!"
"TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN..."
"I... I'm sorry... Captain York, I..."
As York rapidly counted down, dozens of pirates in the second formation bowed their heads in profound shame. Trembling, they voluntarily stepped out of the ranks, dropping to their knees on the cobblestones.
Seeing this, many guilty men in the third formation hesitated. But they gritted their teeth and stayed put. They reasoned that since York hadn't arranged a formal supervisory squad to monitor the city, there was absolutely no way he could know what each of the 4,000 men had done in the chaos of a burning capital. They decided to gamble with their lives.
"THREE! TWO! ONE! ZERO."
York lowered his hand. He first looked down at the weeping men who had voluntarily stepped forward.
"First formation!" York commanded the 180 Vanguard loyalists. "Confiscate all the spoils of war from those who just confessed! Strip them of every last Berry!"
"Remember!" York shouted to the kneeling confessors. "This absolute poverty is the price for sparing your lives! If you ever dare to defy my military orders again, none of you will live to see the next sunrise!"
The confiscation process went smoothly. The pirates whose newly acquired fortunes were ripped from their hands couldn't help but sob quietly. This was wealth they had just gotten their hands on. Tens of millions of Berries, gone in an instant. However, facing York's stern, unforgiving gaze, they ultimately chose to submit. York had fulfilled his pre-battle promise; they had broken theirs. The punishment was deserved.
The guilty pirates in the third formation who had gritted their teeth and refused to confess felt a sick sense of schadenfreude watching their comrades lose their gold.
'What a bunch of cowardly fools!' they thought, smirking internally. 'Couldn't they have just kept their mouths shut?! The Captain didn't even have supervisors! How could he possibly track everyone? Now look at them, they lost tens of millions! It must break their hearts! Hahaha!'
However, the secret joy of those hidden sinners didn't last long.
York pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his coat—the list Ginny had meticulously compiled using York's omniscient Observation Haki.
York immediately read aloud more than a dozen specific names.
These names belonged to pirates standing in the second formation who had also chosen to grit their teeth and hold out.
Upon hearing their exact names called out in the dead silence, the men instantly panicked. Their legs gave out, and they collapsed to the ground, realizing York knew everything.
"I... I'm sorry! Captain York!!"
"We were wrong! We shouldn't have been so arrogant!!"
"We... we are willing to offer all our spoils! And our previous loot from Sabaody! We'll give you everything!"
"Please, Captain York! Spare us this once!!"
York silently watched the groveling group, eventually letting out a soft, disappointed sigh.
"Do as you say. Every single piece of plunder you've accumulated since joining my flag will be confiscated. You will be reduced to absolute zero in exchange for your lives."
"T-Thank you, Captain York!!"
To be completely honest, if it weren't for the fact that these men had shown acceptable loyalty during the Sabaody meat grinder, York truly would have executed them. The most taboo, destructive element in any military unit is insubordination. However, the Empire's army was just forming, and a complete massacre was tactically inappropriate.
Having dealt with the second formation, York's gaze finally shifted to the massive third formation at the rear—the mob with the lowest loyalty, the most greed, and the least discipline.
For this group of pirates, York would show absolutely no mercy.
As Ginny read off one name after another from the clipboard, Kaido waded into the crowd. The towering Oni personally dragged the screaming, guilty men out of the ranks by their collars, tossing them into the center of the square.
It wasn't that the pirates didn't think of resisting. But under the combined, god-like suppression of Kaido and Dragon, resistance was entirely meaningless. They couldn't even run.
Finally, out of the 3,000 men in the third formation, exactly 1,500 pirates who had violated York's orders and brutally harmed unarmed civilians were apprehended and forced to their knees.
York took a deep, heavy breath, raising his head toward the sky with a touch of genuine pain in his eyes.
"Why bother?!" York's voice cracked like thunder. "It's not that I wouldn't give you unimaginable wealth! It's not that I wouldn't let you indulge yourselves in the estates of the corrupt! So why... why did you have to cross the line and slaughter the innocent?!"
York leaped down from the castle wall, landing softly on the cobblestones. He walked slowly toward the massive group of 1,500 condemned pirates, who were securely penned in by Kaido's Flame Clouds.
"For the sake of our past battles together, and the blood we shed on the Grand Line... I will grant you a dignified execution."
With that, York extended his hands forward. Countless, microscopic Holy Light tentacles erupted from his palms, rapidly expanding to wrap around the necks and minds of all 1,500 insubordinate pirates simultaneously.
"Slumber of Death."
With that soft, melancholic whisper, the absolute, reality-warping power of the Mythical Zoan took hold.
The 1,500 pirates, whose faces had just been contorted in sheer terror, anger, and violent unwillingness, suddenly went completely slack. A look of profound, inescapable peace washed over their features. They all closed their eyes, slumping to the cobblestones as they entered a deep, eternal, breathless sleep.
They died without a single drop of blood being spilled.
Everyone else present—whether the surviving 2,500 Crimson Harvest recruits or the 10,000 captive soldiers of the Vodka Kingdom—felt a profound, bone-deep chill grip their hearts upon seeing York so effortlessly, and so unhesitatingly, execute 1,500 of his own men to uphold the absolute law of his new Empire.
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