Kaguya’s hiding spot was indeed well-concealed.
The Buggy Pirates’ attention was focused on the villagers and Roy, who had rushed out.
They didn’t notice Kaguya hiding in the shadows at all.
Roy was kicked to the ground, his body curled in pain, yet he still struggled to crawl toward the village chief.
Buggy’s subordinates burst into piercing laughter, and one of them raised a flintlock, aiming it at the boy’s back.
Kaguya’s heart pounded violently as countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
Having lived in a peaceful era for over a decade, he had never seen such a scene.
At this moment, being able to stay hidden without panicking and exposing himself showed that his mental fortitude was already quite good.
Kaguya watched helplessly as Roy was surrounded by the pirates.
The boy stubbornly lifted his head, tears welling in his eyes but refusing to fall.
“You bastards!”
He roared, his voice filled with despair and rage.
Buggy laughed exaggeratedly, a throwing knife spinning in his hand.
“Brat, your courage is commendable!”
He swung his hand abruptly, and the throwing knife flew straight toward Roy’s chest.
Roy was struck in the chest; he gripped the knife unwillingly before collapsing to the ground.
“Bastard!
He’s just a child!”
Several burly villagers, seeing that Buggy had actually killed Roy, rushed forward in anger, only to be shot dead by the pirates.
Blood stained Roy’s thin clothes, his fingers still tightly clutching the throwing knife as if he wanted to resist until his very last breath.
Kaguya’s pupils constricted violently, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.
He had never witnessed death from such close range, let alone expected the boy who had just been talking to him to fall in a pool of blood like this.
Buggy’s shrill laughter echoed in his ears, intermingled with the wailing of the villagers.
“Hahaha!
This is what happens when you resist!”
Buggy brandished his cutlass triumphantly.
“Men, move all the treasure and food onto the ship!”
The pirates cheered and stormed into the cottages, kicking open doors and shoving the terrified villagers aside.
A woman holding a baby was pushed to the ground, the infant’s cries sounding exceptionally shrill in the sea breeze.
Kaguya’s fists were clenched tight, a surge of suppressed frustration stuck in his throat.
He remembered the bright look in Roy’s eyes when he mentioned the village, and the boy’s unwavering back as he rushed toward it.
The kindness in Kaguya’s heart urged him to rush out and help, but he knew that if he went, it would only be to his death.
When he had just confirmed that this was the Pirate World, he had called out for a system in his heart, but there was no response.
In other words, he didn’t have any cheats; he was just an ordinary person with no overpowered Devil Fruit like Luffy, no Swordsmanship like Zoro, and not even the strength to run away.
After the Buggy Pirates sailed away, Kaguya slumped powerlessly to the ground.
He watched as the villagers began to pick up the pieces—some picking up the bodies of their companions, others supporting the injured.
The setting sun dyed the sea blood-red, as if silently denouncing this atrocity.
Kaguya stood up trembling, his legs still somewhat weak.
He looked in the direction the Buggy Pirates had left, his fists unconsciously tightening.
“Is this…
the Pirate World where the strong prey on the weak?”
Kaguya looked down at his trembling hands and suddenly realized that in this world of survival of the fittest, weakness was the original sin.
Roy’s death was like a heavy hammer, ruthlessly waking him up.
At night, Kaguya sat alone before Roy’s grave.
Previously, he would never have dared to stay alone in a graveyard at night, but after witnessing that scene, only resentment remained in his heart.
He wanted to become strong to prevent such a scene from happening to him in the future.
The sea breeze, carrying a salty and fishy scent, brushed against his cheek.
The sound of waves crashing against the rocks in the distance seemed to speak of the ruthlessness of this sea.
He stared at the simple wooden tombstone, on which Roy’s name was crookedly carved.
The boy’s stubborn gaze before death kept flashing in his mind, and that desperate roar seemed to still echo in his ears.
Kaguya remembered how Roy had tightly gripped the knife at the end, and his resolve to become stronger deepened once more.
“I want to become strong.”
Kaguya spoke softly, yet his voice was exceptionally firm.
Kaguya rested by Roy’s grave for the night, not because his feelings for Roy were deep, but because he had nowhere else to go.
He couldn’t go to that village.
Having just survived a pirate raid, if Kaguya went there now, he would only be treated as a suspicious character by the villagers.
He didn’t want to add any more trouble to those traumatized people.
As the horizon turned the color of a fish’s belly, Kaguya stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes.
He took one last look at Roy’s tombstone and turned to walk deep into the forest.
Morning dew dampened Kaguya’s pant legs.
The crisp chirping of birds in the forest stood in stark contrast to yesterday’s tragedy.
“First, I need to find a place to settle down.”
Kaguya muttered to himself, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the hilt of his blade.
Although this blade was ordinary, it at least gave him a bit of self-defense capability.
Passing through the dense bushes, Kaguya discovered a small stream.
He crouched down and washed his face with the cool stream water, droplets trickling down his chin.
His weary face was reflected in the water, but his eyes shined with an unprecedented determination.
“Taijutsu, Swordsmanship, Haki…”
Kaguya recalled the power system of the Pirate King world.
“Without a Devil Fruit, I can only start from the basics.”
The climate of this island was warm, so Kaguya didn’t need to build a house for warmth.
After wandering around the forest, cutting some vines, and picking some wild fruits.
Kaguya found two thick, tall trees to serve as a temporary residence.
He first ate some wild fruits to satisfy his hunger, then began weaving a hammock with the vines.
Kaguya’s movements were clumsy but earnest.
The vines rubbed small scratches onto his fingers, but he was completely oblivious to them.
The afterglow of the setting sun spilled through the gaps in the leaves, plating his figure with a layer of golden light.
The low growl of wild beasts came from the distance, but Kaguya was no longer as panicked as when he first arrived.
“Let’s start with physical fitness first.”
After securing the hammock, Kaguya began jogging around the two large trees.
Sweat soon soaked his clothes, and a burning pain came from his lungs, but he gritted his teeth and didn’t stop.
Images of those villagers lying in pools of blood kept appearing in his mind, becoming his greatest motivation to persevere.
When night fell, Kaguya lay on the swaying hammock, staring blankly at the starry sky.
This unfamiliar starry sky was so similar to Earth’s, yet entirely different.
Kaguya thought of his mundane life before transmigrating, which stood in sharp contrast to his current perilous situation.
His fingers unconsciously brushed over the blade at his waist, the cold touch reminding him of reality’s cruelty.