At this moment, KING was internally devastated.
He only wanted to quietly AFK.
Why did he have to endure this human suffering?
Extreme resistance and instinctive fear of Garp's iron fist twisted his features uncontrollably.
His normally cold, stoic face now looked fierce, almost savage. His golden pupils burned with forced, desperate fury.
But to Smoker — dangling from Garp's other hand — the expression meant something entirely different.
Smoker looked up at King.
The man did not resist Vice Admiral Garp.
But there was no fear in his face.
That expression…
Clenched jaw.
Fire in his eyes.
A murderous calm.
Smoker could read the message:
Since Vice Admiral Garp has spoken… don't blame me for being merciless.
Smoker — are you ready to die?
What comes next… is hell.
Smoker's blood ignited.
So King's earlier refusal had been a test.
A provocation.
He had been waiting for this moment.
He had not abandoned him.
That killing intent was the greatest affirmation of his worth.
"I understand, Chief of Staff King!!"
Smoker roared, eyes blazing.
"Even if it means death — I will not flinch!"
King turned and stared at him, utterly bewildered.
"Understand what?!"
"I was thinking about how to escape from that crazy old man!!"
Garp's booming laughter echoed down the corridor, drawing stares from passing Marines.
"Let's go! Training ground's right ahead!"
"We'll drag that lazybones Kuzan over… and get Sakazuki for sparring too!"
"We're going big today!"
At the name Sakazuki, King's vision darkened.
He nearly fainted.
If that mad dog Akainu showed up, this wouldn't be special training.
It would be an execution.
To King, the path ahead had become the road to the underworld.
To Smoker…
it was the road to strength.
The misunderstanding deepened like the rising tide of Marineford's sea breeze.
Half a Month Later
Logistics Chief's Office
A leave approval stamped with Sengoku's seal lay on the desk.
[Due to Vice Admiral King's excessive workload and mental strain, a two-week paid leave is hereby granted, effective immediately. — Sengoku]
"Freedom…"
King nearly cried.
The past two weeks had been hell.
At 5 a.m., Monkey D. Garp dragged him out of bed for the baptism of "Iron Fist Love."
At 9 a.m., he was forced to "instruct" Smoker and others — which actually meant standing there while dodging attacks, euphemistically called Haki perception training.
At noon, Sakazuki would "drop by" and use the heat of the Magma-Magma Fruit to improve blood circulation, turning King into a squid on a hot plate.
In the afternoon, Kuzan would freeze him to "cool the body."
In the evening, Sengoku forced him to process logistics reports.
If he wasn't careful, Garp burst in for "pre-bed extra training."
996 was paradise compared to this.
He slept just enough to keep the system running.
At this rate, he might become the first Vice Admiral in history to die from overwork.
Fortunately — there was hope.
He applied for leave.
Sengoku approved it.
After he had "accidentally" approved over a dozen sensitive arms requests from World Government member states, creating diplomatic chaos…
they decided it might be safer to let him leave for a while.
"Goodbye, Marineford!"
With the fastest speed of his life — like a streak of golden lightning — he boarded a supply ship bound for Water Seven.
Nothing was more suitable for AFK recovery than a shipbuilding city.
Abandoned shipyards.
Scrap yards.
Forgotten corners.
An AFK paradise.
For two weeks, he would sleep until the end of time.
Three Days LaterWater Seven — outskirts near Dock One
The air smelled of salt and rust.
The moment the supply ship docked, KING sensed something was wrong.
Too noisy.
Citizens ran through the streets like headless flies, voices loud with panic and excitement.
"Extra! Extra! Something terrible happened at Enies Lobby!"
"Have those pirates gone insane?! Declaring war on the World Government?!"
"They did it to save a crewmate… the Straw Hats are monsters!"
News birds circled overhead, papers raining down like snow.
KING pulled his hood low to hide his striking blond hair.
Straw Hat?
Enies Lobby?
Even if the Celestial Dragons all died, don't bother me.
He just wanted a hole to bury himself in.
He avoided the bustling districts, moving into damp, abandoned streets.
At the far edge of the city, he found it.
A treasure trove.
Broken keels. Rusted anchors.
Massive wrecks like fallen beasts.
Stone and timber blocking the noise of the outside world.
Waves lapped gently against rock.
A distant seagull cry deepened the silence.
"This… is heaven."
KING tossed his expensive tactical backpack onto the sand and collapsed onto it spread-eagle.
Soft sand.
Warm sunlight.
No Garp. No magma. No training.
It felt so good he could die.
His eyelids drooped.
Consciousness sank.
AFK mode engaged.
[Ding!]
That cursed mechanical voice.
[Super S-Rank AFK Spot Detected: Water Seven – Shipwreck Grounds]
[Hidden Event Activated: "The Ship Spirit's Lament"]
KING rolled over and buried his face in the sand.
I'm not listening.
I refuse.
Sleep.
No one will disturb my sleep.
Murphy's Law disagreed.
Voices buzzed into his ears like flies.
"Enough, Franky! Don't you understand? It's over!"
A towering cyborg with a blue pompadour and Hawaiian shirt shouted at a man in a top hat and mayor's attire.
"Iceburg! You bastard! You don't understand!"
Franky pointed furiously.
"It can sail one more time! It'll take those idiots anywhere!"
Behind him lay a battered ram-headed vessel.
The bow's figurehead was split.
The mast cracked.
The hull was scarred with countless repairs.
It looked like an old warrior clinging to life at sunset.
Iceburg clenched his fists.
"Stop being reckless, Franky! As shipwrights, giving her a proper send-off is the only respect we can offer!"
"Shut up! Merry isn't dead! I can still hear her voice!"
Just as the argument peaked—
the broken ram's head at the bow gave a faint click.
It turned.
Toward King.
He had not chosen it.
Rather—
the fading spirit of the ship, carrying the memories and will of the Straw Hat crew, sensed something in its final moments…
…and sent a silent cry for help.