Lucky Roux slowly bent down, his movement heavy and deliberate, as if what he was picking up was not an ordinary meat leg, but a bomb that could explode at any moment.
When he finally lifted it, he showed no hesitation at all. He opened his mouth and bit off a huge chunk, crushing even the bone between his teeth.
The way he gnashed through it made it seem as though he was venting every bit of resentment on that single bite of meat.
Yasopp leaned quietly against the main mast, his figure looking especially tall against the waves.
In his hand was a soft deerskin cloth, and he used it to carefully wipe the trigger of his beloved gun, Arthur, over and over again.
His movements were extremely gentle, as though he were caressing a lover's delicate face, each motion filled with affection and focus.
Yet anyone paying close attention would notice that the Armament Haki gradually spreading across the barrel had mercilessly exposed his true emotions.
That faintly flowing power was just like the surging emotions inside him at this moment, impossible to hide.
When he wiped it for the seventh time, the flintlock's hammer suddenly gave off a dangerous click, as if announcing that a fierce battle was about to begin.
Within the suffocating silence, even the surrounding air seemed to have frozen solid. It was so quiet that one could almost hear a needle drop.
And at that moment, when the pressure had reached its peak, Shanks's signature cloak suddenly snapped loudly, as if swept by an invisible hand, stirring up a powerful current.
"Puhahaha—!"
A burst of bold, unrestrained laughter suddenly erupted from the red-haired man's mouth without warning.
He laughed so freely and wildly that tears actually flew from the corners of his eyes.
At the same time, his right hand pressed tightly against his empty left sleeve, where the strength and glory of the past still seemed to remain.
The sudden action left the crew around him stunned.
They stared blankly at their captain, who was usually dignified yet always carried a touch of carefree ease, unable to understand what was going through his mind.
Before anyone could fully react, Shanks moved.
Like a ghost, he instantly drew the famed blade Gryphon.
A flash of steel burst forth, cold light scattering in every direction as the tip of the sword pointed straight toward the dark, cloud-covered sky above.
The sky was like a massive slab of lead pressing heavily on everyone's hearts, and at that moment, the blade looked as though it meant to pierce straight through it.
"What an interesting era, wouldn't you say?"
Shanks's voice was bright and penetrating, echoing through the silent space.
His laughter rolled like thunder, shaking the sea until ripples spread outward in circles.
Along with his laughter, a mighty surge of Conqueror's Haki shot into the sky, like a tangible golden tide crashing upward with overwhelming force.
Under that powerful impact, the thick clouds above the sea were forcibly torn open.
In an instant, brilliant sunlight poured down through the rift like countless golden swords, dyeing the entire world in gold.
The light fell across Shanks's face, reflecting the soaring battle intent burning in his eyes. That fiery gaze seemed ready to swallow everything.
He raised his head slightly, his gaze firm and sharp as he slowly said,
"First he took Wano, then brought three Emperors under his banner, and now he dares kick us out of the Four Emperors? That brat Ron—"
At that point, a trace of disdain and contempt slipped into his voice.
Then something strange happened.
The Gryphon in his hand seemed to sense its master's surging emotions. Its blade suddenly began to hum, releasing a low yet impassioned sound.
That sound seemed to carry some mysterious power, causing every sword and blade placed across the deck to resonate with it.
For a moment, flashes of steel flickered all over the deck, and a chaotic chorus of metallic ringing rose together.
Seeing this, Shanks slowly restrained his thunderous laughter.
Yet the curve of his mouth became even more dangerous than before, carrying a meaning no one could quite read.
He gripped Gryphon tightly, his eyes fixed on the distance, as though he could already see the battle that was about to come.
"Looks like he's trying to force me to go to Wano and cut something down."
...
At that moment, the headquarters of the World Economic News Agency looked as if it had been swept through by a raging hurricane.
The space that had once been orderly had instantly fallen into chaos and noise.
Sheets of snow-white manuscript paper flew wildly through the air like a flock of startled doves.
They collided and tangled together, dancing in a mad, disorderly storm.
Every sheet carried unfinished thoughts and urgent news waiting to be delivered, yet in this sudden chaos, they had lost all direction.
The ink bottles did not escape disaster either. In the panic, one was knocked to the floor.
Thick blue ink flowed slowly like a small stream, dragging out a long, winding stain across the floor, adding a strange color to the chaos.
More than a dozen Transponder Snails were lined up neatly on the desk, but at this moment, they all released sharp, piercing cries at the same time.
The sound stabbed through people's eardrums like arrows, stirring irritation and unease.
Their feelers trembled constantly with their cries, as though they too had been infected by the tense atmosphere.
And amid all that noise, Morgans—the albatross in a custom-made suit—was standing on his wide office desk like a lunatic who had completely lost control, performing a frantic tap dance.
His feet struck the tabletop rapidly, producing a string of thudding sounds that tangled with the shrieks of the Transponder Snails.
"One million copies? No! Print five million more!"
Morgans's voice was loud and impassioned, carrying a determination that allowed no argument.
His snow-white wings suddenly swept outward like two sharp blades, instantly smashing the delicate gilded inkstand into pieces.
Glass shards shot in every direction like bullets, frightening the usually dignified editors-in-chief into scattering with their hands over their heads.
Their faces were full of panic and fear, and their once-neat hairstyles had become a mess.
"Have the printing presses at every branch run at full power! Even if we have to use Sea Kings to pull the cargo ships, I want these papers delivered across the sea before dawn!"
Morgans continued roaring, fanatical light shining in his eyes.
He seemed to have already seen the newspapers surging across the world like a tide, setting off a massive uproar wherever they went.
Suddenly, he dove down like a bolt of lightning, his sharp gaze locking onto the trembling manuscript in the bald reporter's hands.
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