"Die."
Amid the pirates' stunned and fearful stares, Damon stepped forward.
Flames surged around him, carrying searing heat as they swept past the weapons raised to stop him. In an instant, the pirates' crude clothing became fuel—igniting into blazing infernos. Their bodies turned into living torches, and no matter how desperately they rolled across the ground, the flames refused to die.
These were not ordinary flames.
They were judgment.
Damon spun his blade, standing at the heart of the fire like a sovereign crowned in flame. The inferno did not harm him—instead, it welcomed him, as though acknowledging its master.
For a moment, everyone froze.
Ace stared at the approaching figure, fire dancing around him. Something stirred deep within his chest—an unfamiliar emotion, something close to longing.
Sabo stood there, stunned, his mouth slightly open.
Was this really the same friend he knew?
We were supposed to grow together… when did you pull so far ahead?
Luffy smacked his lips and muttered:
"And you said you didn't have a Devil Fruit…"
The Bursam Pirates trembled as Damon advanced, flames spiraling around him like loyal sentinels.
The image of their comrades burning alive was still fresh in their minds. They couldn't comprehend how a mere boy possessed such terrifying power.
The crueler a man, the more he fears death.
The pirates instinctively clustered together, forming a defensive circle.
"D-Don't come any closer!"
Bursam's voice shook, his flintlock trembling in his hand.
Damon slowly lifted his gaze. Fire reflected in his eyes—but beneath it burned something far deeper.
His voice was calm.
"When you take the lives of others without hesitation… did you ever consider that your own life could be taken just as easily?"
A quiet, almost amused chuckle escaped him.
Then—
he vanished.
In the next instant, Damon appeared at the center of the pirate formation.
"Burn."
He pivoted on his heel.
The flaming blade carved a blazing arc through the air, drawing in the surrounding inferno as if answering the cries of the dead. Fire surged outward, swallowing everything in its path.
Screams erupted.
Bodies collapsed.
The air filled with agony.
Moments later—
a foot stepped forward, crushing charred remains beneath it.
From the dying flames, a boy emerged.
In his hand—
Bursam's severed head.
The heat stirred his dark hair, his eyes shining like stars in the firelight. Though still young, his presence felt overwhelming—like something far greater than his years.
This image burned itself into the memories of Ace, Sabo, and Luffy.
Something they would never forget.
⸻
When Damon and the others returned to Dadan's place, Garp was enjoying rare leisure.
Dressed in beachwear, he lounged in a chair, holding a book with a rather questionable cover—letting out the occasional amused chuckle.
"We're back!"
The childish voices snapped him out of it.
Garp jolted, quickly hiding the book behind his back.
Adjusting his glasses, he looked up and froze.
His sharp gaze immediately locked onto the head Damon was carrying.
Bursam.
The very man Garp had assigned them to deal with.
Though Bursam's bounty was insignificant in Garp's eyes, he had been meant as a stepping stone—a test.
Garp had expected the fight to take at least a week.
Instead—
it was over in less than half a day.
"…What?"
For a moment, Garp even wondered if the pirate had been a fraud.
But after hearing Ace, Sabo, and Luffy recount everything—
he fell silent.
His gaze returned to Damon, thoughtful… and impressed.
"Damon… you've exceeded my expectations."
He still remembered their first meeting—a starving boy from the Gray Terminal, little more than skin and bone.
Now?
That same boy had surpassed the others.
And delivered a result far beyond anything Garp had anticipated.
Seeing Damon lost in thought, Garp asked:
"What's on your mind?"
Damon looked up, his voice low.
"I was wondering… how many people like Bursam exist in this world?"
"If no one stands for the innocent… how many more tragedies will happen?"
Garp knew the truth.
He knew about the nobles.
About the corruption.
But some problems couldn't be solved with strength alone.
If they could, the Navy—and the World Government—wouldn't still be struggling to maintain order.
And Garp… did not want this boy to walk the same path as his son.
So he changed the subject.
"Damon. Come with me to Marine Headquarters."
"Find your own justice there."
"Justice…?"
Damon's gaze drifted past him—landing on a Marine coat hanging nearby.
The word emblazoned across it:
Justice.
For some reason…
it felt heavy.
_____
At the harbor of the Kingdom of Goa, a massive warship stood anchored.
At its prow—a carved dog's head.
A symbol unmistakable to anyone familiar with the Navy.
The vessel was a floating fortress—heavily armed, durable, and built for long voyages. Its hull was reinforced, its firepower immense, and its underside coated to repel sea monsters lurking beneath the waves.
Damon, now dressed in a Marine trainee uniform, stood at the bow.
Behind him—the life he was leaving.
Before him—the unknown.
Though they had only spent a few months together, he had earned the trust of Ace, Sabo, and Luffy.
They weren't just friends.
But they weren't quite brothers yet, either.
The bond between the three was something deeper—something absolute.
Damon raised his hand and waved.
"Try not to miss me too much."
Ace and Sabo twitched.
Even now, he had to remind them of that training…
With Damon around, their workload had doubled—no, tripled.
And Garp had shown them no mercy.
"Look at Damon! He learns it in one try—why can't you?! Again!"
"He trains every night! Keep up!"
"Push harder! Or are you worse than a newcomer?!"
The echoes of Garp's shouting still haunted them.
Only Luffy seemed unaffected.
He waved both arms wildly, grinning.
"Damon! Next time we meet—I'll be King of the Pirates!"
The other three immediately covered their faces.
He had just shouted that—
in front of hundreds of Marines.
Damon sighed.
If Luffy weren't Garp's grandson… he'd already be in serious trouble.
"Then you'd better get stronger," Damon called back.
"Or I'll be the one chasing you down."
As the ship set sail, his voice faded into the sea breeze.
⸻
Life aboard the warship was anything but easy.
Despite his connection to Garp, Damon received no special treatment.
If anything—
he was treated more harshly.
He started at the very bottom.
As a trainee.
His room was small and bare—just a bed, no window, no comfort.
His duties were endless:
Cleaning. Washing. Cooking. Maintenance.
Every morning began with grueling training on deck.
Every detail of life was regulated—discipline enforced at every level.
And at night—
he studied.
Under Garp's subordinate, he learned about the world: geography, navigation, language, and culture.
It was relentless.
Exhausting.
Like being trapped in an endless cycle of work and pressure.
Most would have broken.
But not Damon.
He endured.
Like a dry sponge, he absorbed everything—knowledge, experience, strength.
At first, the Marines treated him coldly, assuming he relied on connections.
Now?
They respected him.
Because effort like his—
couldn't be faked.
And as the vast sea stretched endlessly before them, Damon began to understand something:
The ocean was not a dream.
Not a poem.
Not a fantasy.
It was a battlefield.
And he had just stepped into it.