One Piece: Rise of Valoria

The next day, the sun was barely rising over the horizon of Mariejois, casting long shadows across the cold stone corridors of the Celestial Dragon's domain. In the damp slave quarters, Boa Hancock, Sandersonia, and Marigold sat huddled together, their eyes wide and haunted from the punishment they had endured that day. Their bodies were bruised and their spirits shattered. But there was something else now—a quiet resolve that hadn't been there before.

Hancock's thoughts kept drifting to the boy who had spoken to them the day before: William. He was only twelve years old, but he carried himself like someone who had seen lifetimes of pain. Despite his youth, he was taller and stronger than any other child they had ever seen. And though his words had been harsh, they held a grim truth. If they wanted to survive, they had no choice but to be strong.

Suddenly, the door to their cell swung open. William stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. His long, sandy blonde hair fell over his shoulders, and his piercing green eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. There was no softness in his expression, no sympathy.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice cold.

The sisters hesitated for a moment, but Hancock stood first, pulling her sisters up with her. They were terrified of him, but they had seen him fight. William had defeated men twice his size, men with terrifying powers. He was ruthless and merciless, and Hancock knew that if they didn't listen to him, their fate would be far worse than any punishment they had endured so far.

"You want to survive?" William said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at each of them in turn. "Then you need to stop being weak. You think the arena is scary? This place is far worse. You think crying will help you? No one here cares if you live or die. so do you want to live, do you want to get stronger."

Hancock clenched her fists, swallowing her fear. "Yes we… want to live, we… want to get stronger."

William's expression didn't change. "Good. Then I'll train you. But don't expect me to go easy on you."

For the next several weeks, William put the sisters through grueling training sessions. Every day was a test of their endurance, strength, and willpower. William trained them the only way he knew—through brutal, unforgiving methods that he had learned during his years as a slave. The arena was a place where weakness was a death sentence, and William made sure they understood that.

The sisters struggled at first. Hancock tried to keep up, but her body wasn't used to the kind of punishment William put her through. Sandersonia and Marigold were younger and even less experienced, but they followed their elder sister's lead, pushing themselves past their limits. William was relentless, never allowing them a moment to rest.

During one of the training sessions, Hancock collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her limbs ached from exhaustion. "I… I can't," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

William stood over her, his expression unreadable. "You think your enemies will care if you're tired? You think they'll stop just because you can't keep going?" He crouched down, his voice low and harsh. "If you give up now, you'll never survive. You have two choices: get stronger, or die."

Hancock's eyes filled with tears, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand. William nodded, satisfied. "Good. Again."

As brutal as William's training was, the sisters began to change. Their bodies grew stronger, their reflexes sharper. They learned how to fight, how to defend themselves, and how to endure pain without breaking. But more than that, they learned how to push past their fear.

There were moments when Hancock would look at William and wonder how someone so young could be so cold, so detached. But there were brief glimpses of something else beneath his harsh exterior—something broken. She remembered how he had spoken about survival, how he had warned them about the other fate they could have faced. His words still echoed in her mind, and she began to understand why he was the way he was. Caring about others in this place only led to more suffering.

One evening, after another long day of training, Hancock approached William cautiously. Her sisters were resting in the corner of their cell, too exhausted to move.

"Why are you helping us?" Hancock asked, her voice quiet.

William didn't look at her. "Because I've seen what happens when you're weak. I've seen what happens to those who lose in the arena. Or because i feel like it."

Hancock frowned but didn't push further. She didn't fully believe him, but she also knew that asking more questions wouldn't get her anywhere. William wasn't the type to open up, and she doubted he ever would. Still, she was grateful for his help, even if it came in the form of tough love.

As the days passed, the fragile alliance between William and the sisters grew stronger. They trained together, fought together, and slowly, they began to trust each other. But there was always an unspoken distance between them—a wall that William had built around himself. Hancock could see it in his eyes, in the way he kept everyone at arm's length. He had seen too much, lost too much, to let anyone get close.

But despite his coldness, the sisters knew one thing: as long as they had William on their side, they had a chance at survival.

And in a place like Mariejois, that was more than enough.