At the same time, somewhere in the Grand Line, on a desolate island...
A crimson-hulled pirate ship lay anchored just offshore, its mast crowned by a fluttering flag—a grinning skull crowned with crashing waves.
"Hahahaha! You’ve really outdone yourself, Shiki! Pulling off something that bold!"
Roger’s boisterous laughter echoed across the coast as he waved a newspaper in hand, his head thrown back in genuine amusement.
A bonfire crackled at the center of the clearing, its smoke spiraling lazily into the sky. Around it, the Roger Pirates lounged in a loose circle, drinking, roasting meat over open flames, and trading banter with loud, easy camaraderie.
"They actually attacked Marineford..."
"Even we’ve never tried that."
"Captain, should we go next? Sounds like a blast!"
"Hah! You just want to get blown to bits..."
Their laughter rang out like a chorus, brimming with mischief and swagger. It was the sort of energy that made you believe they’d follow Roger straight into the heart of Hell itself, if he asked.
"You idiots! That’s Marine Headquarters you’re talking about..."
Rayleigh scowled at them, rubbing his temples. His voice was thick with exasperation.
Nearby, Douglas Bullet crushed his newspaper in a white-knuckled fist, then ripped off a slab of roasted meat with his teeth. Fury burned in his eyes as he chewed.
"Damn it! That bastard Darren... he’s gotten that strong?!"
The others burst into fresh laughter.
"Looks like your old prison buddy’s outpaced you, Bullet!"
"Don’t stress, you’re still young..."
"Wait—wasn’t he about twenty? You sure you’re not slacking?"
Bullet’s face flushed with rage. He swallowed the meat whole and shot to his feet, eyes blazing as he turned toward Roger.
"Captain! I challenge you!"
The air around him convulsed.
A monstrous wave of Haki exploded from Bullet’s body, sweeping across the island like a hurricane. The sky darkened. The calm sea churned into chaos, waves crashing against the cliffs with deafening force.
Had Darren been present, he would’ve instantly sensed it—Bullet’s Haki had grown far more ferocious since their clash on Coin Island.
"Now this is dinner entertainment!"
"I’ve been waiting for this..."
The Roger Pirates grinned from ear to ear, already leaning in. They’d been baiting Bullet all evening, just to stir the pot.
"Ugh... not again..."
Shanks and Buggy sighed in perfect unison. With resigned expressions, they dove behind a boulder—their usual refuge when chaos struck.
Rayleigh let out a long, weary sigh and buried his face in his hands.
His legs erupted with force, tearing a crater into the earth. He launched forward like a cannonball, every muscle coiled with violence.
"Hahahaha! Now that’s the spirit!"
A glint of crimson flashed in Roger’s eyes.
His blade unsheathed in a single, fluid motion.
The heavens split open.
Bolts of black and red lightning arced across the sky, thunder booming like a war drum. The crew winced, shielding their faces from the surge.
Bullet flew backward like a missile, hurled through a dozen trees before embedding into the side of a mountain. Rock exploded outward, leaving a crater the size of a house.
Roger, calm as ever, sheathed his blade and turned to Rayleigh with a grin.
"Rayleigh. Shiki’s made his move. Don’t you think it’s time we set sail?"
Rayleigh met his gaze. A shadow passed through his heart—but still, he smiled.
"Hahahaha! Fantastic!"
Roger laughed like a boy given permission to play. He raised an arm to the sky, eyes burning with untamed fire.
"Alright, lads—raise anchor!"
His gaze stretched toward the endless blue horizon. Far off in the distance, barely visible, lay a small town on an island.
Loguetown. The gateway to the East Blue.
The Roger Pirates erupted into cheers.
They whooped, hollered, danced. The sound of drums and song filled the night.
Rayleigh stood in silence, watching them.
He lifted a jug of strong liquor and took a slow sip.
But today, it tasted bitter.
His eyes flicked toward Roger’s back, the man walking so cheerfully toward the sea.
And in a voice only he could hear, Rayleigh whispered,
"Roger... this will be our final voyage, won’t it?"
Marine Headquarters—Marineford.
A titanic battleship crept into the port, casting a long, grim shadow over the ruined harbor. Its hull was gouged with blade marks, some still slick with dried blood. The very sight of it made the watching Marines shudder.
Sengoku stood atop the battered docks, flanked by hundreds of elite Marines, all standing at attention. As the anchor dropped, a towering figure emerged from the ship’s cabin.
"Fleet Admiral Kong!"
Sengoku and the others snapped into salute.
Kong stepped onto the deck.
He wore no shirt beneath his long marshal’s cloak. His bare torso was wrapped in bloodstained bandages. His skin was pale. Yet his eyes—fierce, clear, and unyielding—burned with a general’s fury.
His gaze swept across Marineford.
Entire blocks were flattened. Watchtowers crumbled. The air reeked of ash. Smoke still rose from distant fires.
Kong knew the damage already. Sengoku had briefed him via Den Den Mushi. But seeing it... feeling it... was something else entirely.
"That damn Golden Lion..."
His voice trembled with rage.
The voice that followed was hoarse. Sardonic. Like rust scraping across steel.
A thin figure in crimson robes stepped out from behind Kong, sauntering forward with idle menace.
The moment he appeared, the entire port tensed.
Sengoku’s eyes narrowed.
Hundreds of rifles cocked at once, their barrels trained on the crimson figure.
The atmosphere thickened like storm-laden clouds.
A single spark could ignite a war.