Sometimes, that same thing happened with kids, too.
Frey didn't know what the hell was going on. Nobody told him anything. No one cared enough to explain.
Hell, not even the adults seemed to understand it. And Frey? He actually believed—honestly believed—that everyone had powers like his. That this was just normal. Just what humans could do.
It wasn't until much later, when he started seeing how others reacted, how they looked at him like he was some beast in human skin, that he realized... he was wrong.
But by then, it didn't matter.
He wasn't the type to waste time chasing answers that didn't exist. Not when every day was a goddamn battle for survival. Still, just because he had come to terms with it didn't mean the rest of the village had.
They didn't give a shit about understanding. If anything, their fear made things worse.
Weird appearance? Fine. Unwanted 'bastard'? Whatever. But powers? Powers no one could explain? That crossed a line.
That made him dangerous.
So, when the talk of "thinning mouths" came up, no one hesitated. Not the villagers. Not even his own parents. Selling Frey—pawning him off like livestock—wasn't just acceptable. It was a relief.
He was five years old at the time.
The act of buying and selling people had long since been outlawed—a vile relic of a darker past. But as with all things in this twisted world, there were always exceptions. Loopholes.
Especially when it came to the so-called "Celestial Dragons"—those World Nobles who stood above the law itself, parading their depravity under the protection of divine blood and absolute authority.
The Celestial Dragons—descendants of those who had once "created the world." Power granted by blood. Arrogance born from generations of unchecked tyranny.
"Mmm... Eyes like rare gems, ain't they~? Face ain't half bad either... Should I let it grow a bit before I stuff it? Or maybe... use it another way... So hard to choose~"
"Even a freak like you has a place, boy. Someone out there wants monsters like you. So be grateful, and go earn your keep."
Ingnall Frey didn't resist.
He could have. He could've torn them apart if he wanted to, his instincts alone would've made escape laughably easy. But there was no will left to fight. No purpose to it.
What would be the point?
Even though he'd long accepted that any warmth from his family was a fantasy, hearing those venomous words from the very woman who birthed him... it hit differently.
Even at five, the betrayal twisted something deep inside him. Maybe—just maybe—somewhere in his heart, he'd still clung to the delusion that his parents cared. That hope was now dead.
He knew the Celestial Dragons were coming. Knew the whole kingdom was trembling in anticipation. But he hadn't expected this.
Dragged from the labor yard where he'd been breaking his back like always, Frey had no warning when the nobles arrived.
Dressed in flowing white robes and boxed behind thick glass helmets, their faces hidden like gods in a temple... It wasn't until a strange, "special" collar was snapped around his neck—without explanation—that Frey realized what was happening.
Minutes later, he sat in a cage aboard their ship. No voice. No tears. Just silence.
And not one person—not his parents, not the overseers, not even a single soul from town—objected.
That silence spoke louder than any words ever could. It crushed even the faintest flicker of rebellion that might have stirred in Frey's heart.
'This world has no place for me.' That was the only conclusion he could reach.
Could a clearer mind have seen otherwise? Perhaps. Just because one island hated him didn't mean the whole world would. But Frey was only five years old. The narrow world of a child is small. Cruel. Absolute.
For a boy like him, what he saw, what he heard, what he experienced—that was the world. A frog in a well never knows the sea.
And though the great blue stretched out just beyond the barred window of his cage, Frey couldn't imagine that somewhere out there might be freedom. Or happiness.
He didn't dare to hope.
"What the hell is this?! Cut it, stab it, smash it—and it still works?! Hah! Now that's entertainment!"
It didn't matter how broken Frey's spirit was. The freakish power inside him remained.
And so, like the rest of the branded masses, Frey had the Celestial Dragon's hoof—the mark of a slave—seared into his back. He was thrown into a world of screams, fists, chains, and blood. But even here, his unnatural gifts didn't fail him.
A dagger plunged toward his chest? It shattered. A club swung for his ribs? Snapped like a twig. His body, warped by some unknown force, had learned to harden instinctively. Reflexively. It was the same strange power that made him an outcast, and it made him dangerous even here.
He wasn't like the other slaves. Not even close.
At first, the noble who bought him was amused. Laughing. Curious. Intrigued.
But it didn't last.
Within just a few days, the noble's curiosity twisted into irritation. Frey's blank, lifeless expression hadn't changed one bit, even after being branded and caged. That emotionless face… that silence. It pissed him off.
"Doesn't cry, doesn't scream, doesn't even flinch... Boring as fuck~! Pissing me off~! Oh—wait, I know! That thing! That thing! If I feed him that and slap some Seastone cuffs on him, maybe we can finally shut down whatever freaky shit's going on with his body~!"
"...?"
Frey didn't know what the noble meant by "that thing" or "Seastone," but the tone alone was enough to raise every hair on his body.
'Poison, maybe? Some kind of cursed food?'
Not that he had any chance of refusing, even if it was poison.
And, in a way, he wasn't wrong.
It was poison, just not the kind that kills. No, what they shoved down his throat was one of the most infamous curses in the world: a Devil Fruit. A monstrous, unnatural thing that grants the eater inhuman powers... at the cost of their ability to ever swim again. A cruel trade in a world ruled by the sea.