Since adopting Pochi, King's daily life developed a rhythm.
Every morning, he carried Pochi from the underground cellar to the best restaurant in town for breakfast.
Of course, he ate.
Pochi watched.
In King's words:
"You're still young. Your stomach is weak. Milk is enough."
Before long, the citizens of Loguetown grew accustomed to the strange sight.
The scar-faced man sat by the window, demolishing enormous plates of food with frightening efficiency.
Beside him, on a chair, a small black dog delicately lapped milk from a dish, its front paws resting on the rim.
They never spoke.
Yet the quiet harmony between them discouraged anyone from approaching.
After breakfast, King visited the clothing shop.
He bought multiple identical white shirts and black trousers — choosing styles was troublesome.
For Pochi, he bought a small bell collar and a soft velvet bed.
Then he returned to the abandoned brewery, placed Pochi in its nest, lay atop the oak barrels, and entered AFK mode.
Pochi never barked or wandered.
It either watched him silently, chased its tail, or slept for hours.
Four or five days passed like this.
King's free attribute points climbed into the tens of thousands again.
He invested all of them into Physique.
His Physique attribute surpassed 50,000.
His body now felt immovable — like a fortress embedded in the earth.
Seasickness was no longer a concern.
Even in hurricane waves, he felt he could stand like a mountain.
More importantly, he had mastered sensory control.
He could narrow his hearing and smell range at will, filtering unwanted noise and odors.
That absolute bodily control brought unprecedented security.
Lying on the barrel, watching Pochi sleep nearby, he thought:
(If only life could stay like this forever.)
But he understood.
This was the world of pirates.
Trouble always arrived.
That afternoon, King finished AFK training and prepared to take Pochi out for dinner.
The moment he pushed open the cellar door, he sensed something wrong.
It was too loud.
Loguetown was roaring.
Shouting, screams, and alarm bells merged into a chaotic tide from the town center.
King frowned.
(What now? Why is this place always restless?)
He stepped into the alley and looked toward the center.
A dense crowd surged in one direction.
Execution Platform Square.
"Something happened," King assessed immediately.
He didn't want trouble.
His first instinct was to retreat and wait for the commotion to end.
But—
"Awoo?"
Pochi barked softly.
Its nose twitched toward the square.
Through their contract, King felt anxiety… unease… and faint excitement.
He paused.
(What's drawing your attention?)
Pochi pawed at his chest insistently.
It wanted to go.
King hesitated.
Crowds meant trouble.
But this was the first time Pochi had asked for something.
Looking into its watery eyes, his resolve softened.
(…Fine. Just a quick look from afar.)
He sighed and followed the crowd.
Execution Platform Square
Chaos ruled the plaza.
Townspeople and pirates packed every vantage point.
All eyes fixed on the execution platform — the place where the Pirate King met his end.
A farce unfolded atop it.
A grinning boy in a straw hat was bound to the execution frame.
A clown-faced pirate with a bright red nose held a blade to his neck.
Buggy the Clown threw his arms wide.
"Behold! Straw Hat Luffy! You will follow the Pirate King's footsteps right here!"
"I, Captain Buggy, will execute this 30-million-Berry pirate! The new era begins with me!"
His crew roared.
"Long live Captain Buggy!"
"Kill him!"
On the outskirts of the crowd:
Roronoa Zoro forced his way forward, hand on his sword.
Nami shouted desperately.
Usopp panicked.
Sanji tried to break through the throng.
But the crowd was too dense.
Marine Base Rooftop
Smoker watched with a storm-dark expression, twin cigars clenched between his teeth.
"What are those idiots doing…?"
"Colonel, shouldn't we intervene?" Tashigi asked urgently. "If this continues, Straw Hat Luffy will be executed!"
"And then what?" Smoker replied coldly. "Start a riot in the square? Tear the town apart?"
"But—"
"No buts."
He exhaled smoke, gaze sharpening.
"I'm here to stop pirates from leaving this town."
"Not one escapes."
A lookout suddenly shouted:
"Colonel! Over there!"
Smoker turned.
At the far edge of the square, beneath a large tree—
King stood quietly, holding the small black dog.
Within three meters of him, the crowd thinned unnaturally, as if an invisible boundary repelled them.
Smoker's heartbeat quickened.
He's here.
Of course he noticed the disturbance.
Why?
To watch?
Impossible.
Someone like him wouldn't waste time on spectacle.
He's observing.
Observing the straw-hat boy.
A thought flickered in Smoker's mind.
Could that reckless rookie possess something… worthy of King's attention?
Tashigi suddenly whispered:
"Colonel… look at the sky."
Smoker looked up.
Dark clouds churned above the plaza.
Heavy.
Low.
Thunder rolled within them.
The air pressure dropped, wind shifting in unstable currents.
This wasn't unusual for Loguetown's volatile climate.
Yet the oppressive stillness beneath those clouds felt… unnatural.
Smoker's gaze shifted between the sky, the execution platform, and the silent man beneath the tree.
The atmosphere tightened.
Something decisive was about to occur.
And at the edge of the storm,
King stood motionless,
watching.