A Pirate Warlord of the Sea

What Makes a King
“P-Please, P-Pirate Emperor! One of the seven warlords, Tabart-sama!” The old man dropped onto his knees, smashing his face into the dried soil, moisturizing it with the blood that dripped from the edges of his forehead. His hands were laid out in front of him.

“I-I beg of you! My boy….we may be pirates, but he’s still my family! Allow me the opportunity to see him,” the hoarse voiced begged, coughing between his statements. He finally listed his face up from the earth, making visible the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “I-I’ll give my life for his, so please, I beg of you…,” he continued, closing his eyes, “take me instead.”

Tabart looked down at the man, listening intensely to every word he said. For him, this wasn’t new, not anymore. Ever since his last battle with Abel, the World Government had informed him that he wasn’t allowed to lose another one. If he did, they weren’t sure if he could retain his status as a Shichibukai. Which, for Tabart, meant that Frida, Phantasma, and everyone else he loved, were in jeopardy. He learned that he couldn’t protect them, not alone…. what kind of man couldn’t protect the ones he loved? No, what kind of King couldn’t.

The words of his Aunt, Elizabeth inspired him in that moment: A King that cannot protect his own people is no King. Therefore, he did what he could. Since then, he had sought power. He would have it. A power that surpassed even Abel’s; a power that could force anything to surrender. Was this it? Was this that power he desired? This, begotten, old pirate laid at his feet, praying to him as if he was his hope, as if he was his monarch. Wasn’t this what he wanted to achieve? Isn’t this what he wanted?

Tabart’s face contorted into a smirk, as he snapped his fingers. Roots sprouted from the earth, impaling the older man in his stomach as quickly as he had commanded. Blood dripped onto the soil, and onto the roots.

The old’s man eyes were still, yet calm as he opened them, looking up towards Tabart. “B-B-But why?”

“Because, it’s simply not possible to bring your son back,” he replied, tapping his body. “He’s apart of me now, like the rest of your crew, and like the rest of the inhabitants of this island. To think they were as foolish to try to hide you all from me, and then to attempt to attack me?” Tabart scoffed. “This is why this has happened. To attack a God…what hubris.”

“Haha, I see,” the old man responded, his hands and body falling limp as he was slowly dragged into the ground beneath. “S-So, this is how I die, eh?”

Tabart exhaled. “Fret not. Even in death, you’ll live on. For, your body, your life, your spirit….will live on in me.”

“Ah, yes…I se—”

There were no other words uttered as he was pulled into the dirty, abyss beneath the soil. Though, no one typically knew what happened there. For, no one had lived to ever see what happened after Tabart’s Yggdrasil got ahold of a man. All that ever emerged from the soil, after his technique was complete, was the fruit.

Tabart turned around as a small fruit sprouted behind him upon a root.

“Yes, this is everything that you are. Your life, everything, was used to make this forsaken fruit,” Tabart continued, taking the fruit into his hand. “It’s so small…. Though, you were the last person for today. Old and decrepit. I wonder how much time you really had left here?” He smirked and ate it.

Tabart surveyed the island, watching as the soil has been transformed into dustbowls of barren, rotten land. The trees that once populated the island had all but withered away into stumps of spoiled wood, and red, crunchy leaves. There was nothing left anymore. No humans, no plant life, just the ruins of homes that once housed a great civilization that would forever be lost to the annals of history. It was pretty much guaranteed. Just as it always did, the news coo would herald him as a hero who conquered an island of Ruffians, of those who refused to submit to the almighty power of the World Government. In truth, they just hadn’t paid their holy tribute, and therefore they relied on the strength of pirates to protect it. But, for the World Government, that didn’t matter. In their fight, you were either with them, or against them. Tabart placed his hand on the soil, and exhaled, transforming the dusty dune into a slab of grass and vegetation.

“I best get to it, right....Cane?"