The light blazed fiercely, roaring like thunder as if trying to swallow the sky itself.
Amid the glare, standing firm on the execution platform, Riven D. Kael squinted at the emerging silhouette beside him. As the figure became fully visible, a faint grin tugged at the corner of Riven's lips.
He had done it.
He had brought the Pirate King back.
But there was more—something deeper. An unseen power stirred within him. This place, this platform soaked in legacy and blood, was more than a monument. It was a key.
From the instant Gol D. Roger returned, Riven felt it—something ancient binding them together. A strange resonance coursed through his body, like the soul of the Pirate King had touched him, marking him.
It wasn't just resurrection. Riven had inherited something.
The world whispered of Roger's legendary powers:
Top-grade Armament Haki,
Majestic Conqueror's Haki,
Observation Haki so refined it could hear the voice of all things,
…and an unparalleled swordsmanship that defied all known forms.
And now, a single flash of insight seared into Riven's mind.
> "Congratulations," a voice echoed within his soul.
"You've inherited the sword technique of the Pirate King—'God Avoidance'."
The words echoed in Riven's mind like a whisper from the void:
> "Use the blade to unleash a sovereign slash at such speed and force that it passes through all defenses — a strike that never clashes, only lands."
And then it hit him.
A torrent of overwhelming power surged into Riven's body — wild, untamed, and coursing through every muscle and vessel like a storm unchained. He staggered slightly, his eyes flaring open as if struck by lightning.
The wind screamed around him.
In his mind, memories not his own burst into life — ghosts of battlefields, blazing swords, and blood-soaked clashes. He saw the Pirate King himself, Gol D. Roger, carving his legacy through seas of enemies with absolute dominance.
Technique after technique burned into his soul, imprinting deeply as if etched with fire.
This was no mere recollection.
This was inheritance.
The artistry of swordsmanship, the calm fury of Roger's will, and the killing intent honed over a lifetime of war now lived inside Riven D. Kael.
Then, as the storm of light receded and faded from the sky, silence gripped the execution square.
The figure at the center — once obscured by brilliance — was now visible.
The crowd stood frozen. No one dared speak. The only sounds were the quick, shallow breaths of marines and civilians alike, the pounding of hearts thudding like war drums, and the crushing weight of awe.
He knew this was because his physique had been enhanced, granting him vastly heightened senses.
"Hiss—!"
The sound of ragged breathing filled the air, followed by a wave of screams and chaos.
The execution platform erupted into pandemonium.
"That's—!"
"It's the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger!"
"That man just brought the Pirate King back to life!"
"How is this possible!?"
Not only the onlookers and the pirates but even the marines—who had raised their guns to fire at Riven staggered back, their faces pale. Their hands trembled uncontrollably, weapons shaking in their grips.
The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, was a legend who commanded power, prestige, and immeasurable wealth.
He was the man who had once dominated even the likes of the "Golden Lion" and Whitebeard, Edward Newgate.
That man was a legend—a figure deemed so dangerous by the Navy and the World Government that his bounty soared to an unimaginable 5.5648 billion Berries!
Gol D. Roger had died on the execution platform years ago. Yet now, the very man publicly executed by the Navy stood alive once more.
How was this possible!?
As terror and shock gripped the crowd, Roger's form solidified. Suddenly, he spoke.
Clad in his signature red captain's cape, the golden epaulets glinting under the setting sun, he stood with a sword and pistol at his waist. His voice was hoarse but deliberate:
"Where am I?"
Slowly, he raised his head, scanning his surroundings with indifference—ignoring the hundreds of Navy soldiers below. When his gaze fell upon the execution platform and Loguetown's square beneath him, a flicker of nostalgia passed through his eyes before vanishing.
"Loguetown…"
"I never thought I'd return to this place."
"Little boy..."
Roger turned, his gaze settling on Riven D. Kael, who stood with a faint smile at the corner of his lips. The Pirate King's voice rumbled low:
"Did you bring me back?"
Riven shrugged, his reply effortless.
"That's right."
Roger frowned. A weighted silence passed before he spoke again:
"I'm already dead."
"My will lives on without me."
"I don't know what twisted power let you pull the dead from their graves—but this sea has its course. Why interfere?"
Riven's eyes narrowed.
The icy sea wind howled, sharp enough to flay skin from bone. It clawed at his black cloak, whipping it into frenzied waves behind him.
He studied the legend before him—the man revered and reviled by millions—and suddenly, he smiled.
"Because I came to this sea," Riven said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "And without you, it's grown dull."
The words hung in the air. Across the square, the crowd stood frozen—stunned.
Did this young man just taunt the Pirate King himself?
The world seemed to hold its breath. Only the wind screamed, its howl thick with the iron scent of blood.
Roger stared at the face before him. For a fleeting moment, he felt something—"recognition". A tremor of familiarity, deep and old, pulsed in his chest.
Then, understanding dawned.
"I see," Roger murmured, his voice rough as storm-worn timber. "You don't give a damn about my legacy."
"You're here to claim it."
Riven threw his head back and laughed, the sound wild, unbound. "Exactly." He spread his arms, the wind tearing at his cloak like a living thing. "I came. I saw. I conquered."
A grin split his face, sharp as a cutlass. "And everything you couldn't finish...?"
"The things you didn't dare to do..." Riven's voice dropped to a whisper, edged with fire. "—Let me."
In one fluid motion, he drew his sword.
The blade was unremarkable—until it sang.
A dragon's roar split the air as steel met wind. Riven swung, and the world answered.
The slash tore across the square like a living thing. Stone erupted. The earth screamed. A fissure split the ground—a jagged scar, thousands of meters long, rending the square in two.
Silence.
Then—chaos.
The realm of a Great Swordsman.
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