One Piece: Coby with Skill Weaver System

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As Don Krieg begged more desperately, going as far as kowtowing, the tension in Baratie reached a boiling point. Patty, with a look saying a lot of fear and disdain, stepped forward. He was ready to beat the man who once terrorized the seas, but as he raised his hand, a swift and powerful kick to the head sent him flying across the room. Sanji had intervened.

He placed a plate of food and a glass of water in front of the fallen pirate. "Here Gin, he can eat this," Sanji said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of firmness. Don Krieg, ignoring everything else, started to eat with his hands, a man driven solely by the need to fill his empty stomach.

Carne, another cook, looked on in disbelief, his worry evident in his furrowed brow. He turned to Sanji, his voice urgent. "Don't get close to him. You don't know who Krieg is. You don't know what he is capable of." He recounted the tales of Krieg's ruthlessness, his cunning lies that led to the slaughter aboard a Navy vessel, and his deceitful attacks under a false flag. "He is 'Foul Play Krieg of Eastern Seas!'" Carne finished, his warning hanging heavy in the air.

Before Carne could say another word, Don Krieg rose with newfound strength, his eyes burning with malice. He lunged at Sanji, his arm outstretched in a lariat meant to take down the cook. But just as it seemed he would connect, a foot appeared, blocking the attack with an ease that belied its strength. Turning, Sanji and the others saw a familiar pink-haired man, the one who had put a sword to Sanji's neck just two days prior.

Coby stood there, his expression calm except a smirk, a stark contrast to the chaos around him. His intervention was just in time, creating a timely barrier between Krieg's attack and hands that fed his worthless mouth. The room fell silent, the patrons and cooks of Baratie watching in awe and apprehension.

Don Krieg, his attack thwarted, turned his gaze to Coby, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" he growled, the menace in his voice unmistakable.

Coby's reply was serene, his stance relaxed yet ready. "Someone who doesn't like bullies," he said simply. His eyes, however, held a sharpness, a readiness to act should Krieg attempt another attack. He wasn't worried about this spineless dog.

Krieg, assessing the new threat, seemed to calculate his next move. His reputation was built on his ruthlessness and cunning, but here, weakened and outnumbered, he found himself at a rare disadvantage. "Just prepare another 100 sets of food and I will go without a fuss. My crew is starving."

Luffy, watching the scene unfold, couldn't hide his grin. The thrill of a good fight was always appealing to him, and with Coby stepping in, the dynamics had shifted. "Looks like things are getting interesting," he murmured to Zoro, who merely nodded, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

"Are you Krieg's dog, Sanji?" one of the cooks challenged, his tone accusatory and sharp. The kitchen staff, their faces etched with distrust, barred Sanji's way. "We're not letting you into the kitchen. We're not going along with this," another cook added, his voice firm with resolve. All the cooks drew pistols and aimed at Sanji.

Sanji, unflinching, opened his arms wide in a gesture of defiance. "If you want to stop me, shoot me!" he declared, his smirk unwavering. "I know they're unredeemable villains. But my job is to feed people, not judge them. It gets too complicated." His words carried a conviction that was as much a part of him as his culinary skills.

He then turned solemn, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his fellow cooks. "If a man is hungry, I feed them. That's a cook's job. What's wrong with that?" His question was rhetorical. Those who didn't know hunger, couldn't understand its pain.

Patty sneaked behind Sanji and hit him on the back of his head, sending him tumbling to the floor. The other chefs quickly followed suit, jumping on the blonde cook to restrain him. Patty, standing tall and determined, pointed at Sanji, acknowledging his usual good deeds but emphasizing the gravity of the current situation. "I know you feed people I chase away. And sometimes, it's okay. But this time you're wrong," he asserted. His eyes then shifted to Krieg, "He might be the infamous Don Krieg, but he's just one man. He can't beat all of us." With confidence, he pulled out a giant gun resembling a crab and aimed it at Krieg. "This is Baratie. We deal with rowdy pirates every day," he proclaimed before firing the cannon. The ball shot directly at Krieg, sending him flying outside the door.

Amidst the chefs' triumphant chatter, Coby let out a smirk. "Amateurs," he commented under his breath. The chefs, catching his remark, turned to him with annoyance. "What did you say, punk?" one of them challenged. Coby raised his voice, making sure everyone heard him this time. "Amateurs!" he repeated.

As the chefs pondered Coby's audacity, Krieg reappeared from the dust, seemingly unscathed. His armor had protected him from the blast. Even Coby had missed how Krieg wore his armor. Patty, undeterred by the failed attempt, rallied his fellow chefs. "Charge!" he commanded. The cooks charged forward, their determination fueled by the threat to their beloved Baratie.

However, Krieg was not to be underestimated. As the chefs approached, his armor's shoulder plates rose, revealing machine gun barrels. He fired at the approaching cooks, the bullets flying in a relentless spray. The chefs, caught off guard by the unexpected weaponry, scrambled for cover, their initial confidence turning to shock and fear.

Krieg surveyed the cowering chefs, his gaze cold and commanding. "No one defies Krieg, you worthless scum!" he bellowed. He flexed his arms, showcasing his steel armor. "Arms of steel, stronger than any flesh," he boasted, his voice echoing through the restaurant. He puffed out his chest and abs, clad in the strongest wootz steel, and raised his fist, adorned with what he claimed were diamond fists to demolish anything. "And a built-in array of weapons," he added, his tone menacing.

"I command fifty ships and five thousand fighting men! I've never lost a battle! I am the Don of the Pirate Armada! If I tell you to prepare the food, you will shut up and do it!" he declared, his eyes sweeping across the room, daring anyone to challenge his authority.

As the chefs recoiled in fear, a figure stepped forward, a large bag of food that could feed a hundred men in his hands. It was Chef Zeff, the owner of Baratie. With a resolute expression, he dropped the bag in front of Krieg. The other chefs, puzzled and concerned, questioned his actions. "Chef Zeff, why?" they asked in unison.

Hearing Zeff's name, Krieg's demeanor shifted from one of commanding menace to a hint of disbelief. "Red Leg Zeff?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he took in the figure standing before him. The chefs around, still reeling from the earlier confrontation, looked on in confusion and apprehension. One brave soul dared to voice the concern on everyone's mind, "Boss, what are you doing? They will come and raid us after they are filled." Zeff dismissed the worry with a wave of his hand, his gruff voice carrying a tone of unwavering confidence, "Those spineless dogs? Not possible."

Krieg, still grappling with the reality of Zeff's identity, asked with a mixture of trepidation and awe, "You are Red Leg Zeff, aren't you?" The room grew silent, the weight of the name hanging heavy in the air. Zeff, unfazed by the attention, met Krieg's gaze squarely. "You went to Grand Line but you ran back with your tail between your legs, didn't you?" he challenged, his words sharp and probing.

The patrons and chefs of Baratie watched the exchange with bated breath, their reactions a blend of shock, curiosity, and fear. Krieg, for a moment, seemed taken aback, the mention of his failed venture to the Grand Line striking a nerve. "You went to Grand Line and came back from that voyage unscathed, right? You must have recorded a log. Give me your log-book!" Krieg demanded, his voice regaining its earlier authority.

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