ONE PIECE:I have a quirk & a quirk system(HAREM)

Third person POV

[Time skip-2 weeks]

*Whoosh*

*SLAP*

"Mhhmm!!!"

*Whoosh*

*SLAP*

"MMMHHHM!!!"

"Shut up, you rat bastrad You deserve to be punished after embarrassing us in front of our gods!"

*WHOOSH*

*SLAP*

"MMMMMM!!!"

Another blow struck Yami's back, splitting open the barely healed wounds from days prior. Blood trickled down his skin, staining the ragged remnants of his shirt.

*CRACK*

He bit down on his lip, suppressing the cry of pain threatening to escape. His arms trembled as he gripped the cold, rough chains above him, the iron biting into his wrists.

"You should be grateful," one of the guards sneered, pacing in front of him. "To even breathe the same air or as the same space of the Celestial Dragons is a gift in itself, and you repay it with disrespect?"

Another guard laughed as he struck Yami across the shoulder with a metal baton, the dull thud echoing in the punishment chamber. "Maybe next time he'll remember his place."

Yami's head hung low, his body swaying from exhaustion. He didn't know how long they'd been at it—minutes, hours, days? His sense of time had blurred, lost among the unrelenting cycle of pain and degradation he had endured all this time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the guards spat on the ground. "That's enough for now. Throw him back in his cell. He's no use to anyone dead after all he was hand-selected by Saint Gabrielle for the tournament."

The very guard that hit him with the baton released the chain that where hanging Yami's hands, and after a few seconds, Yami's body crumpled to the floor. Two guards roughly grabbed him by the arms, dragging his limp form through the dimly lit corridors of the slave quarters.

They threw him into his cell like a discarded piece of trash. He hit the floor with a dull thud, groaning as fresh pain shot through his ribs. The iron door slammed shut, the sound reverberating in the silence.

For a while, he didn't move. His chest rose and fell as he struggled to catch his breath. Every muscle, every nerve screamed in agony, yet he remained silent as his quirk was working non-stop to heal him from the torture.

Yami rolled onto his back, staring at the cracked ceiling. "…" Yami muttered gibberish hoarsely, his voice barely audible. It had been two weeks since the tournament—the last time he had fought. Since then, he had been punished relentlessly for daring to "defy" his so-called gods, the Celestial Dragons.

'Hmph, what bunch of inbred pieces of sh*t'

The dream he once held at the beginning—the faint spark of rebellion—felt it that is now gone. His body was broken, his spirit frayed. But he wasn't dead, at least not yet.

The silence was interrupted by a familiar and deep voice. "You still breathing, kid?"

Yami tilted his head slightly, spotting Stone in the corner of the adjacent cell. The older man's face was grim, his sharp eyes scanning Yami's battered form.

"Yeah…" Yami rasped. "Still alive."

Stone grunted. "Barely."

Yami turned his gaze back to the ceiling, his thoughts swirling. He couldn't keep going like this—not with the punishments, the exhaustion, the endless cycle of violence. Yet, deep down, he knew he didn't have a choice.

"I heard them talking earlier," Stone said, his voice low. "They're preparing for The Genocide Tournament. It's happening in god valley, heard they choose that place cause it was quote on quote"sacrilegious", I guess it bruised their ego"

Yami's chest tightened at the name. He remembered Saint Gabrielle mentioning it after the last tournament. A tournament to hunt down the native people of the Island, one meant to showcase the Celestial Dragons' cruelty, power and entertainment.

"They'll probably throw you in there, given how much they enjoy watching you fight." Stone's voice darkened. "But if you're smart, you'll follow the rules kid, cause they will have the island in lockdown so don't think about escaping."

Yami clenched his fists, ignoring the pain that shot through his arms. He hadn't forgotten his plan—to survive, to gain more QP, to escape during the chaos of God Valley. But the gap between where he was and where he needed to be felt insurmountable.

"How do you do it?" Yami asked suddenly, his voice cracking. "How do you keep going when everything feels… hopeless?"

Stone's expression softened for a moment, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his scarred face. "You don't think about the whole mountain, kid. You just focus on the next step. One step, one breath, one fight at a time. That's how you survive kid either in here or out there."

Stone leaned back against the wall of his cell, his face neutral but his eyes distant. The quiet between them lingered, broken only by the faint shuffling of chains and the scurry of rats.

Yami hesitated, then asked quietly, "Stone… how did it feel? The first time you… killed someone?"

Stone didn't answer right away. His expression didn't change, but his gaze grew sharper, as if he were looking at something far away. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"It was a long time ago," he began, his tone even. "Back when I was a Marine, I was sixteen, fresh off boot camp, I was assigned with a crew and our captain at that time was recently promoted to a [commodore], so our first mission, was a raid on a small pirate crew that was camping on a small Island, nothing big. We had them cornered, outnumbered, and outgunned, we told them to surrender and all of them did except one. . . . ." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "One of them—a kid, probably your age—didn't listen. He charged at me with a knife. Rusty thing. No real threat."

Yami waited, his chest tight and heart beating fast as Stone continued.

"I didn't think," Stone said, his voice quieter. "Instinct kicked in. My blade was faster than his. One swing, and it was over." He let out a slow breath. "He dropped, and I stood there, staring at him. Blood on my hands shaking, the kids body on the ground with a terrified expression on his face as he knew he was about to die with tears flowing out his eyes and then he died. . . I kept wondering if I could've done something else. But it didn't matter. He was gone, can't change the past."

Yami looked down, the weight of Stone's words pressing on him. "How… how did you deal with it?"

Stone let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "You don't, not really. It stays with you, kid no matter how many drugs or liquor you take. The faces, the moments… they stick. But you learn to live with it. You remind yourself why it happened. Sometimes it's survival. Sometimes it's because you were protecting someone. And sometimes…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Sometimes, you just didn't have a choice."

Yami stayed silent, his throat tightening.

"I'll be honest," Stone continued. "It doesn't get easier. You'll remember them. Maybe not every day, but enough. It'll always be there in the back of your mind."

Yami glanced at him. "But what if I have to do it again?"

Stone's gaze shifted to Yami, his expression firm. "Then you do what you have to. You don't lose yourself, though. If it eats at you like this, it means you still have a conscience. You're still human. Don't let anyone take that from you."

Yami looked away, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to kill anybody."

Stone nodded slowly. "I know kid, I know. And that's the hardest part. Sometimes, you'll have to do things you hate to survive. But it doesn't mean you're like them. You hold onto what makes you different."

Yami swallowed hard, Stone's words settling in his mind. They didn't ease the weight in his chest, but they gave him something to hold onto.

For now, it was enough. One step at a time. One fight at a time. That's all Yami could focus on and he be damned that he will let those monsters brake him. he will get stronger and stronger until he can control his fate by his own hand.

To be continued. . . . . .