181 With the Justice System

New World.

Kuraigana Island.

Inside a gloomy, ancient castle, the candle flames flickered faintly.

The world's greatest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, sat alone in a high-backed armchair.

In front of him, the image projected by a Den Den Mushi was broadcasting the battle at Marineford.

He had just woken up, and his hawk-like eyes still carried a trace of drowsiness.

A glass of fine red wine swirled gently in his hand, releasing a rich, mellow aroma.

However, the moment the broadcast showed that green-haired swordsman enveloped in a blood-red aura—

"!!!"

The hand holding Mihawk's wine glass froze in midair.

His gaze instantly sharpened, as if it could pierce through the screen and reach the distant battlefield itself.

"Shu—!"

A flash of blood-colored light slashed across the screen, too fast for the naked eye to follow.

"Flower Sword" Vista—one of the great, long-established swordsmen—was defeated in a single stroke.

"..."

Mihawk saw it clearly.

That young Marine's sword strike was no longer simple swordsmanship.

It was something far deeper—an art in which one's will, killing intent, and very soul were fully infused into the blade.

The Way of the Sword.

"A new-generation Marine swordsman, huh..."

Mihawk's eyes gleamed with undisguised excitement.

"I wonder if you have any interest in the seat of the strongest?"

Just then—

Click—

The image shifted.

Boom—!

Hawke's punch collided with Shanks' slash midair, unleashing a violent shockwave.

"..."

Mihawk slowly leaned back into his chair and drained the rest of his wine in one sip.

"Shanks..."

"I have a feeling you might've overplayed your hand this time."

...

Sabaody Archipelago.

Shakky's Rip-Off Bar.

Once a bustling and lively bar, it now stood eerily silent.

Only the sounds of battle, echoing from the Den Den Mushi's broadcast, filled the air.

At the counter sat an old man with silver hair, quietly drinking.

He wore a simple shirt and shorts, a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, and a neatly trimmed silver beard along his chin.

Time had carved deep lines across his face, and the scar running across his right eye only added to his air of authority.

Silvers Rayleigh.

The famed "Dark King," well known to any true pirate.

Once the right hand of the Pirate King—now a humble coating craftsman.

His eyes, fixed on the screen showing Whitebeard's scarred, battle-ravaged body, were filled with sorrow and melancholy.

"Newgate..."

"You old fool... you're leaving too, huh?"

Rayleigh downed his drink in one go.

Roger was gone.

And now, Newgate was about to follow.

An era was truly coming to an end.

Just then, the appearance of the Red-Haired Pirates brought a flicker of light to Rayleigh's weary eyes.

That red-haired brat—Shanks.

He had come to stop the war.

However, what happened next made Rayleigh's heart sink into darkness.

That Marine Rear Admiral named Hawke... possessed Conqueror's Haki of the highest level!

He not only clashed evenly with Shanks but even launched an all-out attack on the Red-Haired Pirates!

Crack—!

The glass in Rayleigh's hand shattered.

He rose slowly to his feet.

Roger's son, Ace, was dead.

He hadn't been able to do a thing.

His old rival, Whitebeard, was dying too.

And again, he could only stand by and watch.

But Shanks...

Shanks was a child he had watched grow up!

He couldn't just sit by this time!

"..."

Rayleigh's eyes turned razor-sharp.

As one who had once stood at the summit of the seas, he could see more clearly than anyone.

That Marine Rear Admiral named Hawke—was strong!

His power was no less than that of Garp or Sengoku in their prime.

But unlike those two old men...

Hawke was younger, more decisive, and far more... ruthless.

Rayleigh and the Marines shared an unspoken understanding.

He had abandoned his title of "Dark King," retired to Sabaody, and stayed out of worldly affairs.

In turn, the Marines had turned a blind eye to his presence.

But now...

Shanks was in danger.

Should he make a move?

Rayleigh's heart wavered violently.

At that moment—

Step—

The sound of footsteps echoed softly.

A graceful figure emerged from the shadows of the bar.

Short, neat black hair. A slender lady's cigarette between her fingers.

The owner of this bar—Shakky.

(The younger version—no need for the older one here~)

She walked over to Rayleigh's side, picked up a bottle from the counter, and refilled his empty glass.

"Rayleigh, according to my intel..."

Shakky's gaze turned toward the glowing screen.

"Including 'Sea Knight' Jinbei just now..."

"In just a few short months, three of the Shichibukai have been completely removed from their positions."

She exhaled a puff of smoke, her tone calm but heavy.

"The Whitebeard Pirates are finished."

"At the entrance to the New World, 'Beast' Kaido has been blocked by Garp."

"And Big Mom... is busy taking over Whitebeard's former territories."

Shakky pressed her cigarette into the ashtray.

"Rayleigh..."

"This war is beyond anyone's interference now."

"So don't do anything foolish."

"..."

Rayleigh's hand froze as he lifted his glass.

"By the way, look over there."

"Hmm?"

Rayleigh followed the direction of her finger.

It was the platform beneath the execution stand.

Originally, that was where Fleet Admiral Sengoku had commanded the battle.

But now...

Sengoku sat casually on a chair that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

He looked across the battlefield—now entirely dominated by the Marines—and smiled in satisfaction.

Then, the highest authority in the Navy leisurely reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of rice crackers.

Crunch—

He tore it open, took out a piece, and popped it into his mouth.

"!!!"

Rayleigh's pupils constricted violently.

"See it?"

Shakky's voice drifted softly through the silence.

"Aside from that initial clash of Conqueror's Haki with Whitebeard... Sengoku hasn't made a single move since."

"So tell me—what good would it do if you went there now?"

"..."

Rayleigh fell silent.

She was right.

He was just an old man coating ships in Sabaody now.

Aside from teaching a few talented youngsters, what could he possibly do?

"Sigh..."

Rayleigh raised the bottle directly to his lips—one gulp, then another...

As if only alcohol could numb the ache in his heart.

Shakky looked at his desolate figure and shook her head softly.

Her gaze drifted back to the glowing screen.

"The new era, led by the Marines... has finally arrived."