-? POV:
Today the weather was nice, just like every day on Sabaody. The sun shone warmly overhead, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees. And as I always say, a pleasant day is the perfect excuse to have a good drink. But fate had other plans for me today, as I'd already emptied every last drop of booze I had on me. Frustrated, I sighed, realizing I'd have to venture out again if I wanted to keep enjoying this lovely day properly.
I sighed deeply, muttering under my breath, "And I didn't bring any money either." The words slipped out effortlessly, carrying the weight of my frustration. I stood there for a moment, feeling foolish, as my mind began wandering through various schemes and desperate ideas, trying to figure out how to solve this irritating predicament. A pleasant day without booze was already bad enough—but without money as well? Things were definitely not looking up for me.
"Going back now would only make Shakky mad at me," I muttered to no one in particular, my words drifting away with the breeze. For a fleeting second, I even considered the desperate idea of selling myself into slavery again, just to get a few coins in my pocket. But with the rumors floating around about Celestial Dragons being on the island, that thought quickly lost any appeal it might've had. Getting caught by one of them would be a nightmare far worse than going thirsty for a day.
But that's when I felt it — a sudden, crushing pressure that hit me so hard my knees nearly gave out. It was unmistakably Conqueror's Haki, radiating through the air with terrifying intensity. Yet, something about it was different, completely unlike the familiar, overwhelming presence of Roger's Haki that I once knew. This wasn't just a show of strength or willpower; it carried a suffocating, almost lethal weight, as if the very air was trying to crush the life out of me. Normal Conqueror's Haki could knock out the weak-willed — but this... this made you feel like death itself was standing right over your shoulder.
It feels almost like it did thirty years ago. Back then, at the end of that brutal battle, I still remember it vividly — the final burst of defiance he unleashed was so fierce, so overwhelming, that even I, with all my strength, was forced to my knees, unable to withstand the sheer force of his will. And now, standing here under this pressure, I can tell without a doubt — it's the same feeling. Maybe a little weaker than it was back then, but unmistakably the same. This was the same as the Haki used by Rocks D. Xebec.
"I need to go there now!" I thought, urgency surging through me like a jolt of lightning. Without wasting another second, I took off, sprinting as fast as my legs could carry me. Every instinct screamed at me to reach the source of that terrifying power before it was too late — before the sheer force of it started crushing the lives of the innocent people living on this island. The air grew heavier with each step, but I pushed forward, refusing to slow down.
It took me only five minutes to reach the source, but it seemed those five minutes were more than enough for me to be too late. The scene that unfolded before me was nothing short of a massacre. Corpses were scattered across the ground, bodies of government agents from CP5 all the way up to CP0, their faces frozen in shock and terror.
Among them, even the once-untouchable figures of two Celestial Dragons lay lifeless, their arrogance and status offering them no protection against whatever force had torn through here. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air, and an eerie silence blanketed the area, as if the island itself was holding its breath.
Total disaster — that was the only way to describe the scene before me. The destruction was absolute, leaving no room for doubt about the sheer power that had been unleashed here.
At the center of it all stood the cause: a boy, no older than eighteen, barely more than a kid. He had already passed out, yet somehow he remained standing, his body locked upright by sheer instinct alone. Even in unconsciousness, he continued to release a thick, suffocating wave of Conqueror's Haki, so dense it felt like the air itself was trembling under the pressure.
Before him lay the mangled figure of a CP0 agent, his once-pristine uniform now drenched in blood. The entire left side of his torso, along with his shoulder and arm, was simply gone — torn away as if some monstrous force had ripped straight through him.
What remained of his body was twisted and broken, barely even recognizable as human. It was a gruesome sight, a brutal testament to the overwhelming power the boy had unleashed without even being fully conscious.
Luckily for the young man, the three current admirals were all stationed at Mariejois because of the ongoing Reverie. If they had been here, this situation would have ended very differently. Still, that didn't mean he was out of danger yet. Knowing the Navy, Zephyr was probably already on his way.
Old as he may be, he was still a former admiral, and not someone to be taken lightly. And if I knew anything about how the Marines operated, Vice Admiral Tsuru would likely be tagging along too — and she was just as dangerous in her own right.
Malik's body was sent hurtling backward from the brutal force of the punch, the impact caving in his chest and sending blood pouring from beneath his shattered mask. His right lung had collapsed from the blow, leaving him gasping weakly for air, while his left leg had snapped under the repeated, bone-crushing impacts as he was slammed against the ground again and again.
When he finally came to a halt, he was nearly 200 meters away from where he had stood moments ago, lying at the end of a deep, 50-meter-long trench carved into the earth by the sheer momentum of his body. Every nerve in his body screamed in pain as he tried, and failed, to push himself up using his one good leg. All Malik could do was lift his head weakly, his vision swimming, and watch helplessly as St. Pierce — now awake and sneering — raised his gold-coated gun, aiming it squarely at Justin and pulling the trigger without hesitation.
Justin slowly turned his head, his piercing gaze locking onto the Celestial Dragon who had dared to shoot at him. His eyes were cold, merciless — devoid of any shred of sympathy. Without moving his body, he shifted his gaze slightly, noticing that the second Celestial Dragon behind the first was also beginning to stir.
Justin's face remained an emotionless mask, unflinching and calm. In the next instant, a fresh wave of his newly awakened Conqueror's Haki exploded outward, even stronger and more concentrated than before. It honed in solely on the two world nobles, pinning them under its unbearable weight. Blood erupted from their ears, noses, and mouths as their fragile bodies convulsed under the overwhelming pressure. Within moments, they collapsed, suffocated and crushed to death by the invisible force of his will alone.
Turning his attention back to the half-dead Malik, Justin vanished from his spot, reappearing before him in an instant, almost as if he had teleported. Malik, broken and battered, couldn't even muster a reaction. His body, already on the brink of collapse, refused to move, leaving him utterly defenseless. Deep down, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop what was about to happen. His fate was already sealed.
Malik's fading vision locked onto Justin's fist, so dark it seemed to swallow the very light around it. A deathly pale gray aura crackled and twisted around the fist, making it look almost otherworldly as it closed in with terrifying certainty. Malik knew there was no escaping it — no last-second miracle, no desperate counter. Resigned to his fate, he simply closed his eyes, letting a final wave of regret wash over him. Regret for targeting the wrong person... and for dragging this entire disaster down upon himself.
The fist crashed into the left side of Malik's chest with devastating precision. The advanced Haki — a lethal fusion of emission and internal destruction — surged through the strike, amplifying its power far beyond a normal blow. At the moment of impact, it was as if the punch didn't just hit him — it utterly erased him. The left side of Malik's body seemed to disintegrate on contact, torn apart from the inside out, leaving nothing behind but a broken, crumbling shell of what once had been a CP0 agent.
This was the last thing Justin would remember from that day — a battle fought entirely on instinct, without thought or hesitation. It was the same raw, primal feeling he had experienced years ago, on the day his father had saved him. His body, battered and drained, could no longer hold on. He passed out where he stood, yet even in unconsciousness, the deathly Haki continued to pour from him in heavy, suffocating waves, as if his very soul refused to let its guard down.
This was the scene Silvers Rayleigh stumbled upon — Justin standing unconscious, surrounded by the broken bodies of CP0 agents and Celestial Dragons alike.
"Boy, what you just did will shake and change the world as we know it," Rayleigh said, his voice calm yet filled with an unspoken weight, knowing Justin could still faintly hear him through the haze of exhaustion.
"You know, Roger... it seems I'll have to disagree with the tale you believed was destined to happen," he continued, speaking more to himself now as he watched the suffocating aura slowly retract back into Justin's body, the boy's energy finally reaching its limit.
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Rayleigh's lips. "As a gambling man, I'm going to bet the future of this world on this boy," he said, his voice full of conviction. Carefully, he leaned down, lifting Justin into his arms with surprising gentleness, before turning away and disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind a battlefield that would soon send shockwaves across the entire world.
Unseen after Rayleigh's departure, two figures suddenly burst onto the scene.
The first was a man with short, spiked purple hair, wearing dark sunglasses, his arms already coated in a dense, potent layer of Armament Haki, radiating raw power and readiness for battle. This was none other than Zephyr — the current Chief Instructor of Marine Headquarters and former Admiral, famously known as "Black-Arm" Zephyr, a title earned through his unparalleled mastery of Armament Haki.
Beside him stood a young and striking woman, her black hair tied neatly back, contrasting sharply with her piercing blood-red eyes. A small spider tattoo marked her left thigh, a subtle but menacing detail. Though her beauty was undeniable, it was matched equally by her strength. She was Vice Admiral Gion, known as "Momousagi," a prodigy in the Marines and the personal apprentice of the legendary "Great Staff" Tsuru. Like Zephyr, Gion had already drawn her blade, her stance poised and ready, prepared for the battle they had expected to find — but the battlefield before them was already long silent.
They quickly scanned the area, their sharp eyes taking in the devastation — the mangled remains of Malik, the lifeless bodies of the two Celestial Dragons, and the unmistakable signs of a battle that had ended in overwhelming defeat. But of the one responsible, there was no trace. Whoever had caused this destruction was already long gone.
Without wasting a second, Zephyr reached into his coat and pulled out a Den-Den Mushi, connecting directly to Fleet Admiral Sengoku. The snail barely managed a single ring before it was answered, Sengoku's stern voice immediately cutting through the line, tension clear even without seeing the scene.
"Sengoku! We have a Code Black," Zephyr said, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation.
"Two Celestial Dragons and more than twenty CP members are dead — two of them from CP0," he continued, his tone flat, almost indifferent, as if their deaths meant little compared to the implications of the event itself.
"And the culprits?" the Den-Den Mushi replied, mimicking Sengoku's grim expression.
"The signs point to only one individual... maybe with someone else helping them escape," Zephyr said, quickly giving his assessment of the battlefield. He paused for a moment, pulling out his asthma inhaler and taking a measured breath before continuing.
Sengoku didn't even think to question Zephyr's judgment. After all, they'd known each other since their earliest days as seamen. If anyone could be trusted to read a battlefield correctly, it was Zephyr.
"However," Zephyr added, cutting into Sengoku's thoughts, "there's no sign of them here. Not even a single trail left to follow."
That statement made Sengoku's eyes narrow. If Zephyr couldn't track the perpetrator — someone who had moved so swiftly and left so little evidence behind — it could only mean that whoever was responsible was an incredibly skilled and powerful figure.
"Sengoku," Zephyr said, his voice grave, "could it have been the Revolutionary Army?"
"No, that's not the case," Sengoku answered after a long sigh. "This whole gathering was meant as a trap for them. And just as this altercation began, they reported that their mission had failed." His voice was tight, heavy with frustration.
This was a disaster — a complete catastrophe. It hadn't even been a full decade since Sengoku had taken the position of Fleet Admiral, and already two world-shaking incidents had occurred under his watch. Seven years ago, Fisher Tiger had stormed Mariejois and freed countless slaves, a scar that still hadn't healed for the World Government. And now, today, he was receiving an emergency call from a silver Den-Den Mushi — the one issued to CP agents tasked with protecting the Celestial Dragons during their visits to Sabaody.
With the three admirals tied up at Mariejois due to the Reverie, and Sengoku himself unable to leave Marineford, he'd sent Zephyr, along with Tsuru, to handle security. But even they hadn't made it in time. Two Celestial Dragons were now dead — killed by someone they couldn't even identify.
The death of a World Noble wasn't something that could be hidden. Word had likely already begun to spread. Sengoku could already feel the coming storm — from the common people and the World Government alike.
"Zephyr, put Gion in charge of cleaning up the scene and leading the investigation," Sengoku said, his voice weary. "You and Tsuru return to Marineford immediately. The seas are about to become chaotic."
"Understood. We'll head back immediately," Zephyr replied firmly, ending the call as he tucked the Den-Den Mushi back into his coat.
I'm feeling numb — like my body is floating in space, weightless and adrift. My head feels heavy, as if I'm drowning, sinking deeper and deeper without ever touching the bottom. This has been the feeling ever since the moment I awakened that Haki. I was completely aware of everything happening around me, but it was as if my body moved entirely on its own, driven by something deeper, something raw. It was just like that day — the day I killed the slave master when Dad rescued me.
In that same uncontrollable state, I slaughtered the last CP0 agent — the one who took my father's life. I also killed both of the Celestial Dragons, the ones who had forced my dad to step in that day. Do I regret it? Fuck no. Even though I wasn't consciously in control, my body still moved in perfect sync with my will, responding to my deepest, most desperate desires.
And in that moment, I didn't want anything else but to murder those two pigs. The one who was shooting at me kept mocking my father — insulting his memory, spitting on his death. That was something I could never, would never, forgive. And so, my body answered my rage, delivering them a death as brutal and painful as I could have possibly wished for.
Eventually, my body couldn't handle it anymore. The power stopped pouring out of me, my strength drained away, and I collapsed — slipping into unconsciousness, with the heavy silence of the aftermath swallowing me whole.
And now I woke up here. My body was still numb, heavy like stone, but I could tell — I had control over it again. I just couldn't move yet. The place I found myself in seemed to be a jungle; all around me I could hear the calls of birds and the rustling of leaves, while massive trees stretched high into the sky, their canopies blotting out most of the sunlight.
"You're finally awake," a voice said, addressing me calmly.
I turned my head slowly, forcing my neck to move, and saw a man in his sixties sitting casually on a log nearby. It didn't take me more than a second to recognize him — Silvers Rayleigh, the legendary right-hand man of the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger. I had no idea how I had ended up here with him, but oddly enough, I didn't feel any sense of danger from him. If anything, there was a strange feeling of safety in his presence.
"Dark King Rayleigh," I said, my voice surprisingly clear and strong despite how weak my body felt. "May I ask where we are... and why you're here?"
Rayleigh smiled widely, clearly amused, as if he had been expecting me to recognize him right away.
"Some unnamed island in the Calm Belt," he replied easily, answering my first question without hesitation.
"And as for why I'm here..." he continued, the smile slowly fading into a more serious expression, "I'm the one who brought you here after you passed out."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning firm. "After everything you did, if I had left you back there, there wouldn't even be a Sabaody Archipelago left on the world map," he said, a note of finality in his voice as he tossed a rolled-up newspaper toward me.
It landed near my hand, and even before picking it up, I could feel the weight of the consequences printed on those pages.
Picking it up, I began reading through the contents. The deeper I got into the article, the more the reality of what I had done — and what it meant — began to sink in. My actions yesterday hadn't just made a ripple; they had caused a worldwide crash.
The papers held absolutely nothing back. They detailed everything — my battle with the CP agents, the overwhelming release of Conqueror's Haki, and the brutal, undeniable fact that I had ruthlessly killed two Celestial Dragons. In one night, I had become both the ultimate villain in the eyes of the World Government and its loyal kingdoms, and a symbol of justice and hope for everyone who had ever suffered under the oppression of the so-called "gods."
I had become a living embodiment of their rage, a force that screamed out for all the pain and injustice they had been forced to swallow for generations — the rage they could never unleash themselves.
"GODS BLEED! TWO CELESTIAL DRAGONS KILLED!"
That was the headline sprawled boldly across the front page, a title so explosive that it would be impossible for anyone to ignore. The article went into staggering detail, recounting every step of the battle, every move, every death, as if the reporters had witnessed the whole event firsthand.
What shocked me even more was the inclusion of photographs — clear, haunting images that showed the devastation I had left behind, including the broken bodies of the two CP0 agents at the moments of their deaths. I could hardly believe it. How could anyone have captured all of this while within range of the Conqueror's Haki that had been flooding the area? It didn't seem possible... and yet here it was, undeniable proof.
"Justin Vargas, son of fallen Marine Captain Melvin Vargas, avenges his father by killing the Celestial Dragons and all their guards," the caption read below one of the pictures.
Seeing my name printed in black and white, tied so directly to these events, made my chest tighten. There was no going back now. The world knew my name — and it would never forget it.
It would seem the news already knew my history. Not that surprising, honestly, considering what I remembered about Morgans from One Piece — the man had a talent for sniffing out juicy stories, no matter how well-hidden. But that also meant the World Government knew.
And sure enough, just as I turned the page, a bounty poster slipped out and fluttered onto my lap.
On it was a picture of me, staring down coldly with no emotion, the photo clearly taken just moments before I had killed the two Celestial Dragons.
WANTED
Only Dead
Justin "The Heretic" Vargas
฿1,444,444,000
An astronomical bounty — especially for a first poster. But given what I had done, and the fact that I possessed advanced Haki, the number started to make sense. After all, a bounty wasn't just a measure of strength; it reflected the threat someone posed to the very foundation of the World Government. And right now, I was a living, breathing symbol of rebellion — something they couldn't afford to let exist.
"Say, Justin, would you be willing to be trained by me? Help you get your powers under control?" Rayleigh's voice cut through my swirling thoughts.
I turned my head slightly, surprised. Of all things, I hadn't expected that offer. Sure, I had awakened Conqueror's Haki, but wasn't he supposed to be training Roger's legacy or something? Still, this was an opportunity most could only dream of, and I'd be a fool to pass it up.
"I would truly appreciate that, Mr. Rayleigh," I said with a small, genuine smile, still lying down but feeling a new spark of hope ignite inside me.
"Hahaha! That's good to hear," Rayleigh laughed heartily, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Then from now on, just call me Rayleigh. After all, we've got a lot of work ahead of us."
And so it began — the next chapter of my story.
- End -
Sea Calendar - 5th of November, Year 1516