The Feast
The word "digestibility" blinking on his panel was something Yang Ning had never seen in the original version of Feast. Even someone who had played League for years would've been confused.
Still, since the skill no longer consumed mana and had no cooldown, it wasn't surprising that the system had adjusted it.
He didn't bother overthinking it.
He had plenty of test subjects standing right in front of him.
Yang Ning raised his sword.
Heavy. Slow. But decisive.
He lunged back into the fray, slashing at the pirate henchmen surrounding him.
Wherever his blade passed, men screamed, stumbled, and scattered.
Just as he was cutting down another fleeing pirate, a blade slid silently through the mob toward him.
Fast. Clean. Precise.
The incoming greatsword pierced straight through his weakened Soul Furnace shield, forcing Yang Ning to jerk his own sword up in a clumsy block. He managed to deflect it—barely—but the edge still grazed his chest.
A thin line of blood spread across his shirt.
Yang Ning exhaled sharply and shoved back the attacker.
Only then did he realize that the heavily armored swordsman—the so-called Sixth Brother—had blended into the pirate rabble, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Silver armor gleaming, movements silent, presence suppressed.
Sneaking in with armor like that?
Yang Ning almost laughed. He'd expected a knight. Instead, he got a back-alley murderer.
Wiping the blood from his chest, he looked up with cold eyes.
"So that's how you fight? I thought you were supposed to be a swordsman."
The armored figure held their greatsword horizontally. Their voice was muffled by the visor, the tone impossible to place—neither clearly male nor female.
"I used to be. Now I'm just a pirate."
"Clang!"
The greatsword smashed against Yang Ning's blade. Sparks burst outward.
With a deft sliding motion, the heavy sword traced along his edge like a serpent.
Yang Ning had never studied swordsmanship. He relied on strength.
Technique, he lacked entirely.
In seven or eight exchanges, he was slashed several times.
Only the Soul Furnace shield prevented serious injury.
The heavy swordsman retreated a few meters, breathing hard through the visor. Surprise was evident in their voice.
"What is that barrier on you? Why can't I cut through it?"
Yang Ning rolled his eyes.
Do One Piece villains always narrate in the middle of a fight?
He didn't answer.
Instead, he rushed in again, sword raised.
He couldn't win on skill—fine.
He'd win on endurance.
His infinite shield was better than any armor on this island.
The armored swordsman lifted their weapon again, forced to continue the fight.
Yet the longer they clashed, the more Yang Ning frowned.
Something was off.
There was no killing intent in the swordsman's attacks.
Their strikes avoided vital points.
And several times, Yang Ning noticed their blade subtly redirecting his grip or nudging his stance—almost like instructions.
The fight slowly shifted.
It no longer felt like a duel.
It felt like a lesson.
The surrounding pirates didn't notice.
They only saw two fighters exchanging brilliant blows.
Yang Ning's own men hid behind a distant boulder, Fox and Johnny peeking over anxiously.
"Johnny, should we go help the captain…?" Xili whispered nervously.
Johnny smacked him on the head.
"Idiot. Rushing in with our strength? That's suicide, not rescue."
"…Oh."
Back in the ring, Yang Ning's movements grew sharper.
Even without a single day of formal training, the armored swordsman's subtle guidance helped him grasp footwork, momentum, and timings he'd never considered before.
In contrast, the silver-armored fighter was clearly struggling now.
Yang Ning's every strike carried massive bonus damage.
The magical component bypassed physical defense entirely.
Even with heavy armor, the swordsman was accumulating wounds.
And strangely… they seemed to have poor stamina.
Their breathing was off.
Their steps were slow.
Their strength—uneven.
"Clang!"
Another full-force clash sent them skidding backward.
They clutched their chest, voice strained but steady.
"You're not bad. But it's not enough. Facing the Blood King with your current strength is suicide."
Yang Ning rested his longsword on his shoulder and grinned.
"I know. But I get strong really fast."
The swordsman snorted.
"You mean your learning speed? I learned faster than this before I turned ten."
Yang Ning's smile froze.
He had indeed felt proud a moment ago.
But he quickly smirked again.
"No. I meant I get stronger in ways you can't imagine. Hard to explain."
If I let you go… by tomorrow, you wouldn't be able to touch me.
"Heh."
The armored swordsman shook their head mockingly.
Then scanned the arena.
"So? Will you let me walk away, or do I spare you?"
There was no point arguing.
Yang Ning couldn't break through their technique yet.
Not without time.
So he changed tactics.
He feinted toward the armored swordsman—
then abruptly turned and slashed into the pirate minions.
A few pirates screamed.
"Hey! Why us!? You two were fighting fine! I just sat down to eat seeds—why me!?"
Before they finished complaining, two were cut down instantly.
Yang Ning moved like a butcher through the remaining minions.
He slashed down another burly pirate—
And activated his new skill.
"Feast."
A monstrous, unseen maw materialized behind him—visible only to Yang Ning.
It swallowed the wounded pirate whole.
No shaking ground.
No lightning.
No dramatic explosion.
The man simply vanished.
A line of text flashed in Yang Ning's vision:
---
[Skill 4 – Feast (Level 1)]
Devour an enemy to deal 367 (+0.1 bonus health) (+0.5 AP) true damage.
Against non-humanoid units: 1084 (+0.15 bonus health) (+0.5 AP) true damage.
Killing with Feast grants 1 Feast stack.
Each stack permanently increases maximum health, amount varies by target.
Current Digestibility: 1%
---
The skill icon grayed out—it was on cooldown.
Yang Ning's eyes gleamed.
The damage was outrageous.
Far beyond anything his sword could currently inflict.
And the note about non-humanoid units…
Big Mom.
Kaido.
Fishmen.
Zoan users.
Sea Kings.
His grin slowly widened.
A pirate watching him froze.
"Hey… did he just start laughing…?"
Pirate B grabbed his shoulder.
"Idiot, don't stand there analyzing his mood—RUN before he analyzes yours!"