A nameless island.
The sun was just right, and the breeze was gentle.
On the wooden villa's terrace, Cain, wearing frog-eye sunglasses, lay sprawled on a beach chair like a salted fish.
The chilled juice by his hand was giving off a cool mist.
Not far away, Rouge, her pregnancy now showing, hummed a tune as she sewed a tiny garment for her unborn child, her expression peaceful and gentle.
The scene was so serene and so picture-perfect that it almost did not feel like the world of pirates; it was more like the recuperative life of a retired high-ranking official.
If it were not for that damned den den mushi buzzing incessantly.
Buru buru... Buru buru...
Cain picked up the receiver with a look of annoyance.
Moshi moshi, this is the G-5 Branch Recuperation Center. Whoever you are, you had better have something important, or I will crawl through this line and beat your dog head in.
...It is me. Kong.
On the other end, Fleet Admiral Kong's voice sounded choked, clearly quite taken aback.
Cain's attitude did a complete one-eighty. He adjusted his slouched posture slightly, his voice becoming weak and filled with the tragic grandeur of one rising in shock from a deathbed illness.
Ahem... Fleet Admiral. My apologies, I just finished changing my bandages. The pain has me delirious. You know, for the sake of justice, this body of mine...
Enough! Cut the act!
Fleet Admiral Kong roared, having reached his limit. I asked Sakazuki! He said your injuries healed long ago!
Tch, Sakazuki and his big mouth, Cain muttered under his breath before adopting a serious tone. Fleet Admiral, what are your orders?
The tone on the other end became exceptionally grave, carrying a murderous chill.
Gol D. Roger has been secretly transferred to Loguetown in the East Blue.
The World Government's final order has come down.
Public execution. In half a month.
Cain raised an eyebrow, twirling the cigar held between his fingers.
So the day was finally coming.
The Gorosei's intention is for this execution to be an unprecedented spectacle, to show the entire world the consequences of challenging the World Government.
Kong's voice was devoid of emotion.
You are the hero who personally captured the Pirate King. The final chapter of this justice should rightly be written by you.
Therefore, you will serve as the Supreme Execution Supervisor for this event. Proceed to Loguetown immediately.
Execution Supervisor?
Cain was momentarily stunned, then a grin spread across his face.
Making the condemned watch the person who captured him oversee his own execution.
Those old geezers sure knew how to play.
But... this was a great opportunity to score some points.
Understood. Cain's tone instantly became resolute, brimming with the tragic sense of sacrifice for justice. For justice, even with this broken body, I will crawl to Loguetown if I must!
He hung up the call.
His gaze turned toward the direction of the East Blue, growing profound.
The wheel of the era is finally about to start turning.
Rouge, sewing, seemed to sense something. She paused her needlework, casting a questioning glance his way.
Cain did not speak.
He stood up, flicked the half-smoked cigar into the sea, and cracked his neck.
His joints popped like a string of firecrackers.
It was time to see that old bastard off on his final journey.
...
One week later.
East Blue, Loguetown.
The Town of Beginnings and Endings.
At this moment, the town was shrouded in a morbid frenzy.
A continuous drizzle fell, unable to extinguish the explosive tension hanging in the air.
The Pirate King would meet his end here.
This news had spread across the world as if on wings. Countless people poured in from all directions, just to witness the legend's curtain call with their own eyes.
Pirates, bounty hunters, reporters, Revolutionary Army spies, and even more ordinary folk there for the spectacle clogged every street to capacity.
A warship flying the Marineford flag cut through the rain curtain, slowly sailing into the port.
A massive anchor plunged into the water, churning up muddy waves.
The gangplank lowered. Two columns of fully armed Marine soldiers were already lined up on the dock.
When that tall figure cloaked in a Justice mantle appeared on the deck, the noisy dock fell silent for a moment.
Admiral, codename Calamity, Cain.
The man who personally dragged the Pirate King from his throne.
Cain ignored the gazes around him—a mix of awe, hatred, and worship—and simply tugged at his collar, blocking out the annoying drizzle.
His vision passed over the sea of people, landing precisely on the town center.
On the tall Execution Platform that had already been erected.
What lousy weather, Cain muttered. On days like this, you should be hiding under the covers sleeping, not coming to this damned place to watch an execution.
The Marines from Loguetown behind him wanted to respond but did not dare, only managing awkward, polite smiles.
He waved his hand, declining the welcoming banquet from the local garrison commander, and alone, like a drop of water merging into the sea, disappeared into Loguetown's complex network of alleys.
...
Loguetown Marine Base, underground death row.
Before the solitary cell at the very end.
Cain dismissed all the guards, pulled over a chair by himself, and sat down in front of the heavy iron bars.
The cell was deathly still.
You came?
From the darkness came a hoarse yet still vigorous voice.
Accompanied by the clanking of dragging chains, a figure slowly shuffled to the bars.
Roger looked worse than before.
His signature wild black hair was now somewhat dry and brittle, his eye sockets sunken, and his skin taking on a sickly, ashen pallor.
Sea Stone handcuffs and shackles heavily bound his limbs, but the grin on his face was still wide, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.
As if death, to him, was merely a new adventure.
Brought you something good.
Cain pulled two bottles of unlabeled liquor from a black cloth bag and slid one through the gap in the bars.
Private brew from the South Blue. Strong kick, but does not linger in the head.
Roger's eyes lit up. He used his teeth to bite off the cork and tilted his head back for a swig.
Gulp, gulp.
The harsh liquor poured down his throat. Roger coughed violently twice, a flush of color appearing on his pale face, before letting out a hearty laugh.
Ha! That hits the spot! You brat, finally did something decent!
Cain opened a bottle for himself and took a leisurely sip.
Rouge is settled in. Nice scenery, the sea right outside her door. I see she has even put on a bit of weight recently, looks healthier than I do.
Roger paused in his drinking.
He did not say thank you, just gripped the bottle tighter. A flash of tenderness and relief, the kind only understood between men, passed through his eyes.
That is good... Gaining weight is good. That way, my kid will be born a little hellion who can turn the seas upside down!
Do not dream. Cain poured cold water on it mercilessly. I will send him to Marine school, start him as a cabin boy. When he is catching pirates later, even if he catches your old crewmates, I will have him cut them down all the same.
Roger was stunned for a moment, then erupted into even more raucous laughter, tears almost welling in his eyes.
WAHAHAHAHA! Hilarious! Too funny! The Pirate King's son, a Marine? That is probably the funniest joke I have heard in my entire life!
He laughed so hard he slapped his thigh, the chains on him rattling loudly.
Cain watched him laugh quietly until Roger had laughed his fill, leaning against the wall panting heavily. Only then did Cain lean forward slightly, lowering his voice.
The atmosphere was just right now. A few drinks in, camaraderie established. Time to talk business.
Hey, Roger.
Cain's voice was soft, unusually clear in the cold, damp death row.
Some things are meaningless to take to the grave. How about... giving me the location of that great treasure of yours?
The air suddenly grew still.
The grin had not fully faded from Roger's face. He tilted his head. In his eyes, first flashed a flicker of surprise, then that surprise transformed into undisguised amusement.
Location? Roger blinked. Laugh Tale?
Yeah. Even without exact coordinates, an Eternal Pose would do.
Cain flicked his cigar ash, his tone as casual as if asking a street vendor for a light.
Roger stared at Cain for a full 30 seconds. Then, his expression turned peculiar.
Did you not say before you had zero interest in those historical truths, in that so-called great treasure? That you only wanted power and fame?!
A man's word, a devil's lie. You believe that? Cain said without blushing or his heart racing. This is called different times, different circumstances. Look, I am taking care of your wife and kid. That is a huge expense. Asking for some child support is not too much, is it?
The excuse was shameless, yet carried a strangely refreshing logic.
After hearing it, Roger was first stunned, then that familiar, infuriatingly loud laughter exploded once more in the cell.
WAHAHAHAHA!! Cain! You bastard! You are truly one of a kind!
Roger laughed until he was breathless. Between laughs, he raised his shackled hand, pointing at Cain's nose.
No! Absolutely not!
Cain's face darkened. Why? I am cleaning up your mess. Are you really that stingy?
It is not about the money! Roger wiped a tear from the corner of his eye from laughing, but his expression suddenly turned somewhat solemn—the last bit of a king's conviction.
That is an adventure, Cain.
Roger's voice lowered, carrying a magnetic depth like the ocean itself.
If someone just tells you where the finish line is, what is the point of the voyage? If you know the ending, then all the storms, the laughter and tears along the way, would they not all become worthless?
My whole life was for that final glimpse. You want to see it? Then go find it yourself!
Whether it is you, or those brats who want to set sail in the future.
Roger fiercely downed the remaining half-bottle of liquor in his hand, waving his arm with heroic bravado, even though the motion tugged at his wounds.
Cain looked at this old bastard who, even unto death, was defending so-called romance, and could not help but roll his eyes massively.
Screw your damn romance.
I am a pragmatist. Do you not understand efficiency first?
You are hopelessly stubborn.
Cain cursed irritably, stood up, and brushed the dust off his trousers.
Fine. Since you will not give it, I will find it myself. But when I empty out that treasure of yours, or sell off that so-called truth for money, do not get so angry in hell that you flip your coffin lid.
WAHAHAHA! Suit yourself! Roger laughed with extreme arrogance. If you can even get there! It is a destination only the freest can reach! You, a watchdog leashed by the World Government? I doubt you will make it!
Reverse psychology does not work on me.
Cain kicked the other bottle of liquor over to Roger's feet.
Drink up. Last one. Next time we meet will be on the Execution Platform.
Cain turned, waved a hand behind him without looking back, and strode out.
Hey... Cain.
Roger's voice suddenly came from behind. This time, there was no teasing or wild laughter, only a low tone like that of an old father.
Cain stopped but did not turn around.
Thanks.
Just two simple words.
Cain's mouth twitched. He let out a disdainful snort from his nose.
Do not get the wrong idea. It is just a transaction. If that kid Ace grows up wrong, I will still beat him up.
Having said that, he walked into the dark corridor without looking back.
Only after Cain's figure had completely vanished did Roger lean back against the cold wall. He looked at the empty bottle in his hand, listened to the faint sound of rain outside, and the smile on his lips gradually softened.
Whether Marine or pirate... this sea ultimately belongs to the young.
Rayleigh... you all better watch closely. This brat is even more of a troublemaker than I was.
...
Leaving death row, the rain outside was falling harder.
Cain stood under the eaves and lit a cigar.
The cold, damp air mixed with the taste of tobacco filled his lungs, calming his mind, which had grown somewhat restless from the rejection.
Cain blew out a smoke ring, looking at the blurred Execution Platform through the rain curtain, his gaze gradually deepening.
If he could not find that island, then he would just flip the world's table over even more thoroughly.
As long as chaos reigned, as long as he stirred up this stagnant pond, whether it was the ancient weapons or that damned Laugh Tale, they would eventually surface.
Admiral, sir!
A messenger ran over through the rain and saluted.
Fleet Admiral Kong is on the line, inquiring if you have arrived and confirming the execution procedures.
Cain threw the expensive cigar, only two puffs in, into the muddy water and crushed it fiercely under his polished leather shoe.
Tell the Fleet Admiral, all is ready.
He looked up, revealing a ferocious grin that would give the messenger nightmares.
Also, pass the order. Push the security perimeter around the Execution Platform out another 50 meters.
Since we are throwing the world's biggest funeral, we need to let everyone see clearly.
This good show is just getting started.
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