At a different shore from the Merry's anchorage, a massive ship loomed, its figurehead a white hippo wearing a crown. Its pirate flag, a crowned skull sticking out its tongue, looked freshly made. The Bliking Pirates, active for mere months, sailed a weathered vessel.
Townsfolk guards lay unconscious, blood staining the snow. One man, still awake, fumbled for his Baby Den Den Mushi. "Must… tell Dalton…"
He dialed, urgency driving him. "Wapol's back."
"Dalton here. What's wrong?" came the reply.
"Dalton-san… he's—"
"Injured? What happened?"
"Wapol… returned…" The man collapsed.
Dalton's calls went unanswered, signaling an emergency.
Nearby, the Bliking Pirates entered Cocoa Weed, a quiet village beside Big Horn. Within minutes, it was a wreck—homes reduced to rubble, villagers bleeding out. Wapol, a man atop a giant white hippo, had ordered the destruction out of petty anger. Once Drum Kingdom's king, a World Government figure, he'd fled, abandoning his people. Selfish and unrepentant, he saw no issue in crushing dissent.
"Crown, not hippo!" Wapol sneered, picking his nose, eyeing the fallen villagers coldly. "Defy the king, get death. Simple."
"You're no king!" a villager gasped. "You abandoned us!"
"Not a king?" Wapol laughed. "Who else rules this land?"
"This isn't your country anymore!"
"Drum's gone!"
"We'll choose our new king. You're nothing!"
Wapol's gaze chilled. "Tch, tiring hippos. Not even citizens anymore." He waved. "Shoot."
"Wapol-sama, but—"
"No hippos in my kingdom. Fire!"
His men hesitated but obeyed, gunfire silencing protests. Blood splattered anew. Wapol watched, unfazed. "Drum Kingdom Constitution, Article One: Defy the king, die. Any objections?"
Silence answered. Wapol dismounted Robson, his White Walkie hippo, and surveyed the ruins. "Time to eat."
He approached a collapsed house, licking his lips. "Nice and crispy."
Opening his mouth wide, he bit into the rubble, chewing wood and stone. A Baku Baku Fruit user, Wapol could eat anything—metal, timber—and fuse consumed materials into weapons. Cocoa Weed's ruins vanished into his maw as villagers watched helplessly.
"Bleh, mediocre," he muttered, patting his bloated stomach. "Commoners use cheap stuff." He climbed back onto Robson, smug, as his crew prepared to move, unburdened by guilt.
Then, a figure approached. "Wapol-sama, retreat!" a subordinate cried. "It's him!"
"Former guard captain Dalton," Wapol growled. "Here to kill me, huh?"
A black-furred bull charged through the snow, eyes bloodshot, clad in clothes, weapons on its back—Dalton, a Zoan user of the Ushi Ushi Fruit, Model: Bison. Once Wapol's protector, he'd rebelled years ago, stripped of his rank. Unsurprised, Wapol had anticipated him.
Dalton shifted to his beast-human form, standing upright, bull traits mixed with human. Drawing a broad sword, he glared at Wapol's men. "Ready! Kill the enemy!" they shouted.
"No mercy, even for ex-subordinates!" Wapol roared.
"Take down that hippo!" Dalton bellowed.
Gunfire erupted, but Dalton dodged with animal agility, his human mind calculating trajectories. Closing in, he swung his sword. "Fiddle Bison Banff!"
One strike sent multiple soldiers flying, blood staining the snow. Breathing heavily, Dalton stood tall. "Long time, Wapol. You returned."
"Wapol-sama!" Wapol snapped from Robson's back. "My vassal Dalton."
Their past as lord and guard was gone—only enmity remained. Dalton, once kind to villagers, was now a warrior, his skill undeniable. Wapol's men trembled.
"Call me what you want," Dalton said. "Leave. We don't belong here anymore."
"My country, my island!" Wapol scoffed. "Drum's mine!"
"Not since you abandoned us."
"Pfft, big hippo talk!" Wapol laughed. "A country doesn't vanish. Drum's mine forever."
"You're no king."
"Why not, traitor?"
"Look around," Dalton urged, voice shaking with suppressed rage.
Wapol glanced at the wreckage—broken homes, injured people. "Just hippos who defied me. So?"
"You hurt those you should protect."
"They disobeyed. Protect them? Spare me."
"Do you even know why they resisted?"
"Don't care about hippo thoughts."
Dalton's fur bristled, his Zoan instincts flaring. "I was wrong."
Gripping his sword, he snorted. "You're the old king's son. I hoped you'd change, but I was wrong."
"Don't care," Wapol said.
"No more chances. A king who flees doesn't deserve a country. I won't let you ruin it again."
"Big talk!" Wapol shouted. "Think you'll walk away?"
"Article One: Defy the king, die!"
"No such law exists," Dalton said. "I told you before."
"Shut up!"
"You were never fit to rule. For the old king, I'll take responsibility."
"You fled responsibility, traitor!"
Dalton flinched. He'd abandoned his post, rebelling out of frustration. Was it right? He didn't know, but Wapol had to be stopped.
"This country must change," Dalton declared. "You're in the way."
Wapol's taunt cut deep. "The king's word is law! Citizens obey or die!"
"No more words." Dalton charged, ready to die. "I'll drag you to hell, Wapol!"
Snow exploded. Two figures ambushed Dalton's flanks—Chess, a hooded archer, and Kuromarimo, with black afro and bladed gloves, Wapol's top aides, once Dalton's equals in the "Three Chiefs." Blinded by rage, he hadn't sensed them.
"Snow Country Special: Snow Makeup!" Chess loosed three arrows.
"You knew this was coming!" Kuromarimo's blades shot out.
(Damn…!) Dalton thought.
Arrows pierced his flesh, blades slashed his skin. Bloodied, he collapsed, vision blurring, body heavy. Wapol's laughter echoed as Dalton cursed his failure. He should've seen the trap. The village's destruction was bait, and he'd lost his cool.
Clenching his fist, he endured Wapol's mockery. "Think you could touch me, knight-turned-hippo citizen?"
"You chose wrong," Chess said.
"You'd have lived as guard captain," Kuromarimo added.
It was his fault. He'd failed to stop a foolish king. Regret consumed him as he closed his eyes, accepting their scorn.
(Why… couldn't I… stop this sooner…)
His resolve had faltered. He'd sworn to support Wapol for the old king, but this was the result. The country couldn't be rebuilt under him.
He wished someone would destroy this corrupted kingdom, a task beyond his power.
As if answering, a voice rang out. "That's enough."
Dalton's eyes opened, vision hazy. He saw Silk, sword drawn, standing beside Zoro.
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