On a relatively intact reef platform amidst the mostly submerged ruins of God Valley, space slightly distorted. Black particles seeped out from the void, beginning to condense, spin, and reassemble.
Thirty seconds later, Imu's figure reappeared.
She opened her eyes, scanning her surroundings.
God Valley no longer existed, leaving only an ocean littered with floating debris.
In the distance, a few scattered ships were desperately fleeing.
She fully expanded her Observation Haki.
Nothing.
No trace of Raiver's presence, no Space Fluctuation, nothing at all.
That guy had vanished into thin air.
Imu stood in place, silent for a long time.
Then, she smiled.
It wasn't an angry smile, nor a mocking one—it was a calm smile tinged with a certain interest.
"Even if that guy were still here, what could he do?" she murmured to herself:
"I can't kill him, and he can't kill me. What an... interesting situation."
In eight hundred years, this was the first time someone had managed to "escape unscathed" in front of her.
No, not escape unscathed.
It was a "standoff of equals."
"Lady Imu!"
At that moment, several figures rushed over from the distance, landing on the reef platform—the God's Knights.
They had been severely injured by Rocks in the previous battle and had only just barely regained their mobility.
"Are you all right?" Saint Garling knelt on one knee.
Imu didn't look at Saint Garling.
"Prepare to return."
As she spoke, Imu raised her hand, and a massive black Magic Circle appeared beneath her feet.
At the center of the circle was an inverted pentagram, surrounded by ancient script.
"Abyss Teleportation."
The Magic Circle glowed brightly, enveloping Imu and the members of the God's Knights.
In the next second, the light dissipated, and the reef was empty.
Only the waves crashed against the wreckage, as if recounting the world-shaking battle that had just taken place.
...
On the sea.
The Oro Jackson sailed leisurely across the calm sea.
The deck was piled high with treasures looted from God Valley.
"Hey, hasn't Roger woken up yet?"
"Not yet."
"Captain Roger, if you don't wake up soon, we're going to open the treasure chests!"
Everyone gathered around the center of the deck, where over a dozen treasure chests of various sizes were stacked.
"I'll open them!" a crew member excitedly rubbed his hands together, stepping forward to lift the lid.
Just then—
"Wait a moment."
The cabin door was pushed open, and Roger walked out.
He was wrapped in bandages, his face still pale, but his eyes had regained their usual sparkle.
"Captain Roger!" everyone exclaimed in delight.
Roger grinned: "I worried you all, huh..."
"Great, great!" the crew chattered excitedly: "Look at all this! We've struck it rich!"
Roger looked at the mountain of treasures piled on the deck, then at the excited faces of his crew, and suddenly wore a troubled expression:
"Were you really worried about me?"
"Of course we were!" everyone chorused, but the glint of gold in their eyes betrayed them.
Roger shook his head and walked over to the largest treasure chest.
He had been about to say something but suddenly stopped.
"What's wrong?" Rayleigh asked.
Roger furrowed his brow, crouched down, and pressed his ear against the lid of the treasure chest.
"There's a sound inside."
"A sound?" Everyone fell silent.
Listening carefully, there indeed was—very faint, like... breathing?
And some kind of soft rustling sound.
"Could it be some kind of trap?" Gaban tightened his grip on his axe.
Roger shook his head, signaling everyone to step back.
He carefully grasped the edge of the lid, took a deep breath, and then—
Lifted it open.
Inside the treasure chest, there were no mechanisms, no poison gas, no treasure.
There was a baby.
A red-haired baby sleeping soundly.
"..."
Dead silence fell over the deck.
Everyone's eyes widened, mouths agape, as if witnessing the most unbelievable sight in the world.
The baby seemed disturbed by the light, wrinkled its tiny nose, then slowly opened its eyes.
They were innocent, guileless eyes.
Seeing the stunned adults crowded around the chest, it suddenly smiled.
Reached out a small hand and made a "ba-ba" sound.
"Red... red-haired baby?" someone stammered.
"Why is there a baby in a treasure chest?!"
"Whose child is this?!"
Roger gazed at the baby for a long time.
Then, he smiled too.
Not a loud laugh, but a gentle, complex smile.
He reached out and gently picked up the baby.
The baby didn't cry or fuss, instead grabbing one of his fingers.
"It seems..." Roger looked at the red-haired baby in his arms, a certain light flashing in his eyes: "This is fate's arrangement."
The crew exchanged glances, then laughed too.
Their laughter echoed across the deck.
Fate is always so wondrous.
In a treasure chest meant for plundering riches, they had found the most precious "treasure" of all.
Thus began the life of the Child of Destiny, "Box" Shanks!
...
Three days later, newspapers worldwide featured the same headline:
"Hero Garp Defeats Rocks Single-handedly! God Valley Campaign Ends in Decisive Victory!"
The reports heavily embellished the story, portraying Garp as the hero who single-handedly defeated Rocks and saved the world.
The destruction of the Rocks Pirates was credited to the Marines' brilliant command and the World Government's great leadership.
As for Raiver, Imu, Roger, and others—not a single word was mentioned.
The public was ecstatic.
"The Rocks Pirates were defeated?!"
"Rocks is dead? Vice Admiral Garp really is the strongest after all!"
"Garp! Garp! He's the true hero!"
In streets and alleys, people eagerly passed around newspapers, cheering and celebrating.
The reputation of Marine Headquarters reached unprecedented heights.
However, in the high-security ward of Marine Headquarters Hospital, the man at the center of it all was furious.
"What is this?!" Garp tore the newspaper in his hands to shreds:
"That bastard Morgans! I'll kill him!"
The hospital room door opened, and Sengoku walked in.
He looked at the scattered paper scraps on the floor and sighed.
"Give it up, Garp. The World Government definitely made him write that.
They paid a lot and applied a lot of pressure."
"Then he should write the truth!" Garp punched the wall, cracking it like a spiderweb, "It was clearly—"
"The truth?" Sengoku interrupted him, his voice calm:
"Garp, the World Government and the Marines are massive organizations.
Including all Member States' forces, we have tens of millions of people worldwide.
Everyone has their own stance, their own interests."
"Even if I realize those bastards at the top are altering history and covering up the truth, what can I do? Turning a blind eye is already the limit."
Garp froze.
He looked at Sengoku, his longtime comrade and rival, and suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity.
"Ha..." Garp laughed, his laughter tinged with anger and disappointment. "You... that's exactly your problem. You bastard who only cares about climbing higher!"
He lunged forward, delivering a flying kick toward Sengoku!
Sengoku didn't dodge. Instead, he threw a punch, striking Garp in the face, and roared, "Shut up! What can you change by barking from the bottom of the cliff?"
The two began fighting in the hospital room.
This wasn't a spar—it was a real brawl.
Fists met flesh, kicks struck bone.
Walls cracked, furniture shattered, and medical equipment sparked and broke apart.
Only when both were bruised, battered, and covered in wounds did they stop, panting heavily.
Garp grabbed Sengoku by the collar, flames burning in his eyes. "Sengoku... I'm telling you. If your heart ever turns black, if you become like those bastards... I'll kill you!"
Sengoku stared at Garp for a long time, then burst into laughter. "Look how reassuring. To have a friend like you, keeping me from straying down the wrong path."
He patted Garp on the shoulder. "So don't you dare quit, Garp."
Garp released his grip and grinned. "Idiot. I have too much to protect at the bottom of the cliff... I'm not going anywhere."