One Piece: Rise of Valoria

The arena was alive with bloodlust and cheers, a twisted celebration of pain and violence. The Celestial Dragons, seated high above, looked down at their slave fighters with cruel delight, waiting to see who would survive, and who would fall. In this place, fear and survival were the only two constants. For five years, William had known nothing else, and now he stood at the edge of the arena, watching as the newest victims were thrust into the pit.

**Boa Hancock** and her sisters, **Sandersonia** and **Marigold**, stood trembling in the center of the sand-covered battleground. Their small, fragile forms contrasted sharply with the hulking brute of a man they were supposed to fight—an enormous gladiator with bulging muscles and a vicious grin. He was a slave like them, but unlike the girls, he had been trained to fight for years. The sisters, on the other hand, had barely started their brutal training.

William, standing in the shadows at the side of the arena, watched in silence as the girls were pushed forward, their chains rattling as they struggled to move. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with terror. This was their first time in the arena, and they had no idea what to expect—only that failure would bring a fate far worse than death.

"Let the games begin!" one of the Celestial Dragons jeered from above, raising a golden goblet as the crowd roared with anticipation.

The sisters didn't stand a chance. The gladiator wasted no time, charging at them with a brutal ferocity that sent the girls scattering. Hancock tried to shield her sisters, positioning herself between them and the monstrous fighter, but it was hopeless. He swatted her away like a fly, sending her crashing into the sand.

Sandersonia screamed as the gladiator grabbed her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly into the air. Her feet dangled helplessly, and she clawed at his massive hand, gasping for breath. Marigold, despite her fear, rushed forward to try and help her sister, but the gladiator kicked her aside with a brutal blow to the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

The crowd cheered wildly as the Celestial Dragons laughed from their thrones. They didn't care about the outcome of the fight—they only cared about the suffering. The sight of the sisters' fear and pain was entertainment enough.

Hancock, bruised and battered, struggled to her feet, blood trickling down her face. She was determined to save her sisters, no matter the cost. But as she stumbled forward, trying to attack the gladiator with the weak martial skills she had been taught, he simply grabbed her and slammed her into the ground again. Her body crumpled, and she lay there, barely able to move.

William watched it all unfold, his expression cold and detached. He had seen this countless times before—the new slaves thrown into the arena with no chance of winning, forced to fight for their lives in front of a jeering crowd. He felt nothing for them. In this world, caring for others was a weakness, and weakness would only lead to more pain. He had learned that the hard way.

Hancock, gasping for breath, looked up through blood and tears, her eyes filled with desperation. But no one would come to save her. Not here. Not in this nightmare.

The fight ended as everyone expected. The gladiator, having grown bored with the girls' pathetic attempts to fight back, simply tossed them aside like broken dolls. Hancock, Sandersonia, and Marigold lay in the dirt, defeated and humiliated.

The crowd was ecstatic, laughing and cheering as the sisters were dragged from the arena. William's eyes followed them, but his face remained emotionless. He knew what came next. Failure in the arena was never forgiven, and the punishment for losing was far worse than the fight itself.

---

Later that night, the sisters were brought before their owner, **Master Callen**, the old Celestial Dragon who had purchased them. Callen was seated on a lavish chair in his private quarters, a grotesque sneer plastered on his wrinkled face. He loved nothing more than watching the pain and suffering of his slaves, and tonight, he was particularly eager.

"You pathetic little worms," Callen spat, his voice dripping with malice. "You couldn't even last five minutes in the arena! Useless, all of you!"

Hancock, her body bruised and broken, knelt on the floor beside her sisters, trembling with fear. Sandersonia and Marigold were crying softly, too terrified to move. The weight of their chains felt heavier than ever, and the dread of what was about to happen filled the room like a suffocating cloud.

Callen stood up, walking toward them with slow, deliberate steps. His jeweled cane tapped rhythmically against the marble floor as he approached, a cruel smile forming on his lips.

"Do you know what happens to slaves who disappoint me?" Callen asked, his voice cold and venomous. He reached down, grabbing Hancock by the chin and forcing her to look up at him. "They suffer."

With a flick of his wrist, Callen signaled to the guards, who stepped forward with whips in hand. The sisters were dragged to their feet, struggling weakly against their captors. Hancock's heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for the punishment that was to come.

The first crack of the whip echoed through the room, followed by a scream of pain. Sandersonia was the first to be lashed, her body jerking as the leather bit into her flesh. Marigold was next, her cries filling the air as the guards struck again and again.

Hancock clenched her teeth, refusing to scream as the whip tore across her back. The pain was unbearable, but she refused to give Callen the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

William stood outside, leaning against the cold stone wall of the courtyard, listening to the sounds of their punishment without expression. He had heard it all before—the cries, the screams, the whips. It was just another part of life here. Caring about what happened to others would only lead to more pain. He had learned that long ago when he lost Robin and Ohara. Now, the only person he could rely on was himself.

Still, as he stood there, something about Hancock's defiance—her refusal to scream despite the agony—caught his attention. She reminded him, just for a fleeting moment, of someone he had once known. But he quickly buried the thought.

He couldn't afford to care.

---

The next day, Hancock and her sisters were forced back into the training grounds, their bodies covered in bruises and welts from the punishment. They were weaker than ever, but their spirits hadn't been completely broken—not yet. William watched them from a distance as they stumbled through the drills, trying desperately to keep up with the other slaves. 

"Stay alive," William muttered under his breath, though he wasn't sure why he cared if they did.

For now, survival was all that mattered.