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The Roger Pirates vanished—as if they'd evaporated from the sea itself.
But the World Government's paranoia remained. They continued their propaganda campaign, painting Roger as a menace, a threat to world peace, whispering of some grand, sinister plot.
The news, disseminated to every corner of the world, was met with cynical laughter from those who knew better.
Roger, alone, had journeyed to the South Blue, to a woman named Portgas D. Rouge, spending his final days with her.
The sea was quiet—unnaturally so.
The Roger Pirates had vanished without a trace.
Those with a keen sense of the world's shifting tides sensed it—the calm before the storm.
The year was now 1498.
On Raijin Island, the storm that had raged for over a year finally began to subside. The storm clouds, their power depleted, thinned, their dark, menacing color fading.
From a warship stationed off the coast of Raijin Island, a Marine lookout, lowering his binoculars, contacted his superior.
The sound of rice crackers being crunched echoed from the other end of the line as Garp, lounging in a chair at a New World Marine base, answered the call.
"Moshi moshi, this is Garp."
"Vice Admiral Garp, Raijin Island… The lightning has stopped!" The lookout's voice trembled with excitement, honored to be speaking with the legendary Marine hero.
"It stopped? Bwahahaha!" Garp, his mouth full of crackers, laughed. "I knew that brat, Arthur, was behind it! Report to Sengoku!"
He stood, his hair now streaked with grey, but his aura as powerful as ever. "That kid's been gone for over a year. What kind of trouble is he going to stir up now? That punk…"
Garp might have been a boisterous, reckless fool—but he wasn't stupid. He possessed a keen intuition, an ability to see through deception, to grasp the true nature of things.
Sengoku, receiving Garp's report, trusted his friend's intuition without question. He immediately decided to leak the information to the Whitebeard Pirates.
The Marines would swoop in later and pick up the pieces!
A final clap of thunder echoed as Raijin Island returned to a state of relative calm.
The swirling vortex of lightning, the raging storm—it all dissipated, the blinding light fading into a soft, gentle glow.
On the highest peak of Raijin Island, closest to the now-calm sky, Arthur, who hadn't been seen in over a year, emerged from the storm clouds.
His body, wreathed in lightning, now crackled with a new, more potent energy, its color shifted from a brilliant blue to a deep, menacing purple, illuminating the surrounding landscape.
His eyes, closed for over a year, snapped open, two bolts of purple lightning shooting from them, his irises now a striking violet.
His powerful frame, honed by a year of relentless training, radiated an immense power, his very presence seeming to command the storm clouds above.
Arthur's laughter echoed through the island, the force of it shaking the very ground, a wave of raw, untamed power rippling outwards.
He was stronger now—MUCH STRONGER. He didn't even know the extent of his own power. He craved a battle, a chance to test his newfound strength.
Two hundred million volts—he had surpassed that limit, his lightning transformed, its color shifted, its power amplified.
His Haki, enhanced by the electric waves, now covered a radius of over sixty miles. And he could even sense the island's magnetic field—
He retrieved some clothes from his storage bracelet, then turned his gaze towards the sea.
"Annoying flies…" he muttered, waving his hand dismissively.
Dozens of miles away, a bolt of lightning struck the Marine warship that had been monitoring Raijin Island, obliterating it in a single, devastating blast.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The sea calmed, the only evidence of the ship's existence the scattered debris floating on the surface.
A minor annoyance, dealt with—
Arthur paused, trying to gauge how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity.
His transformation was complete, but the time it had taken...
"First, find an inhabited island, gather some intel. Has Roger become Pirate King yet?"
Arthur muttered to himself, then shot into the sky, a streak of purple lightning.
Sengoku, about to leak the news of Arthur's reappearance, received a call.
The warship monitoring Raijin Island had been destroyed, its crew incinerated, the wreckage charred.
A moment of silence for the fallen Marines—then a grim satisfaction.
His suspicions were confirmed...
Arthur was on Raijin Island!
Sengoku wasted no time. He dispatched spies to Whitebeard's territory, spreading the news of Arthur's reappearance.
Then, with Garp and Kuzan, he set sail.
The Whitebeard Pirates hadn't given up their search for Arthur.
The death of a son—even Whitebeard, with his immense capacity for forgiveness, wouldn't let that go unpunished.
Alasolan, three hundred kilometers from Raijin Island.
The island had once been one of Roger's territory, but in his year-long absence, it had fallen into chaos.
Bars were the best place for gathering intel. And Arthur, after a year of abstinence, was thirsty. He descended from the sky, his Haki instantly locating a bustling, noisy bar.
He retrieved a few thousand Belly from his storage bracelet, ordered a glass of red wine, and found a secluded table, pulling his hat low, listening to the pirates' drunken chatter.
"Whitebeard's the Strongest Man in the World now. Even the other three legends don't dare to challenge him!"
"Bullshit! Roger conquered the Grand Line! He's the one and only Pirate King! He's the strongest!"
The argument escalated, swords were drawn, a brawl erupting in the middle of the bar.
"Roger's already Pirate King?" Arthur's brow furrowed. He knew Roger's health was failing. Claiming the title of Pirate King—it meant his journey was nearing its end.
"Roger's a coward! He's been hiding for a year! Afraid of the World Government!"
"What did you say, you bastard?! I'll kill you!"
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