Loguetown — Execution Platform Square.
A salty sea wind swept across the cobblestone waterfront.
The usually noisy docks were eerily quiet.
Pirates, smugglers, and pickpockets who normally swaggered with blades at their belts now crouched behind crates and cargo stacks, barely daring to breathe.
A Marine warship cut through the harbor waters.
Its massive anchor crashed down with a thunderous splash, seawater spraying across the pier and soaking several unlucky onlookers.
No one dared wipe their faces.
The gangway lowered.
Colonel Smoker stepped ashore first.
Two cigars burned between his teeth, smoke drifting before his goggles.
He stopped.
The Marines behind him stopped.
No one moved.
They waited.
Until that figure appeared.
Blond hair.
Tall frame.
Justice cloak stirring in the wind.
KING gripped the cabin doorway and stepped onto the gangway.
Each step felt as heavy as a thousand jin.
Seven days.
Seven full days at sea.
No one knew how he endured it.
Seven days of sailing had been seven days of torture.
He had vomited until there was nothing left — not even bile.
Although technically AFK time…
if not for the slow rise of his attributes on the system panel, he suspected he would have become the first transmigrator in history to die of seasickness aboard a naval warship.
Finally… land…
KING's heart wept.
Eyes turned toward him.
Pirates and bounty hunters whispered:
"Who's that… those eyes are terrifying…"
"Blond hair, three scars… that's KING, the monster rookie from Headquarters!"
"The one who drove Colonel Jimmy insane and took Vice Admiral Garp's punch?"
"Look at his face… pale like a corpse."
"How many people must he have killed to carry that aura?"
"He's suppressing killing intent — look at the veins in his neck!"
The whispers were quiet.
KING still heard them.
He had no energy to care.
His stomach churned.
He only wanted a place to lie down.
Smoker stepped beside him.
"Mr. KING, I've arranged an office at the base," he said quietly.
"It has the best view in the city — overlooking Execution Platform Square."
Best view?
Isn't that the noisiest place?
KING frowned slightly.
He stopped and gave Smoker a cold, emotionless look.
(Are you insane? I need quiet. Rest. Silence.)
"I'll choose my own location," he said flatly.
"Forget the top floor."
Smoker froze.
Then realization dawned.
"I understand!"
"True surveillance is not seeing from above — it is sensing from within!"
"You intend to walk Loguetown personally… to feel the evil hidden in its shadows!"
KING: "…"
(No. Stop inventing things. I just want an empty warehouse.)
KING scanned the streets.
Past crowds.
Past alleys.
His gaze settled on a weed-choked ruin in the western district.
On the system map, a red-purple marker pulsed.
[S-Rank AFK Location]
He turned and walked toward it.
"Mr. KING?" Smoker instinctively moved to follow.
KING stopped abruptly.
His stomach convulsed violently.
His eyes locked onto Smoker with frightening intensity.
"Don't follow me."
That look was savage.
Smoker felt as though an ancient predator had seized his throat.
A lone wolf's warning.
And suddenly—
he understood.
How could a bustling base office suit a monster like KING?
The strong required solitude.
Sharpening claws in silence.
"Halt! All personnel!"
Smoker spun and blocked the Marines.
"From this moment on, no one is to approach that area!"
"Anyone who interferes — pirate or Marine — will be treated as obstructing official operations!"
"Yes, sir!!"
Meanwhile, KING followed the map into a filthy, narrow alley.
At its end stood an abandoned brewery.
A rusted lock hung from the iron gate.
Weeds choked the entrance.
A sour, moldy smell drifted through the air.
[Ding — S-Rank AFK Spot Detected: Brewery Underground Cellar]
[Environment: Absolute quiet. No disturbance.]
[AFK Efficiency: 150%]
Lower than Headquarters…
but perfect.
He checked his surroundings.
No one.
He grasped the heavy iron lock.
With a slight pull—
crack.
The internal springs collapsed into metal dust under his finger strength.
He opened the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.
The cellar was damp and dark.
To KING, it was paradise.
He lay atop stacked oak barrels.
"Finally… rest."
His consciousness sank inward.
[AFK Mode Enabled]
[Efficiency: 0.15 points/sec]
He fell into deep, dreamless sleep.
Unbeknownst to him…
On his first day of AFK—
Loguetown's underworld received a message:
Anyone approaching the western brewery district would be thrown into the sea.
Day Two
Smoker stood atop the base roof, binoculars raised.
"For two full days… Mr. King has not stepped out," a Marine reported.
"Understood," Smoker replied calmly.
Day Three
Smoker's eyes were bloodshot.
"Still no movement?"
"Yes, Colonel!"
Smoker lowered the binoculars slowly.
His expression hardened.
"…Meditation."
"These three days of silence are the calm before the storm."
He clenched his fists.
His blood stirred.
Meanwhile, deep beneath the abandoned brewery…
KING opened his eyes and yawned.
[Ding!]
[72-Hour Continuous AFK Completed!]
[Reward: 19,440 Attribute Points]