Meanwhile, on the distant pirate ship, a group of men tall and short, lean and broad stood calmly against the roaring wind.
But unlike the average pirates who would panic at the sight of approaching Marine warships, these men were utterly composed. Their eyes burned with quiet confidence, not fear.
Three Marine battleships advanced rapidly across the waves, but the pirates didn't waver.
"Captain, we've got Marines closing in," said a plump man gnawing on a chicken leg with a grin.
"They've sent a whole fleet," another remarked a tall, rugged man in a ribbed trench coat, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. "There might even be a Vice Admiral aboard. Shanks, what's the plan? Do we fight, or do we avoid them?"
The red-haired captain tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "Of course we fight. We're pirates, they're Marines. That's how the world works. Running would be boring." His tone was light, almost teasing. "Besides, I just bought a fine new flintlock from Lucky's hometown. Seems like the perfect chance to test its aim."
Nearby, a young man with blonde dreadlocks barely in his twenties was wiping the polished surface of that very gun. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he glanced at the oncoming fleet.
The other crewmates remained silent, but their expressions shifted, a shared fire of determination burning bright in their eyes.
At the center of them stood the red-haired youth himself. He wore a white shirt and loose brown trousers embroidered with tiny golden stars, sandals on his feet, and a straw hat hanging from his back. His posture was relaxed, but the air around him hummed with a leader's quiet resolve.
For two years he had wandered across the seas, gathering this band of loyal companions. Now, his heart surged with purpose. He would follow in Captain Roger's footsteps to sail to the end of the world and find the ultimate truth of the Grand Line.
"To sail these stormy seas," he said, his voice steady, "you need courage, strength, and conviction. If fate brings us to a fight, we won't run from it."
He raised his sword, the sunlight gleaming off its edge. "As captain of the Red-Haired Pirates, I declare prepare for battle!"
The crew erupted in cheers, their laughter echoing over the waves.
On one of the approaching Marine ships, Liam Ross stared blankly at the red-haired figure on the distant deck.
"Wait… that's Shanks?" he muttered in disbelief.
The Shanks. The inheritor of Gol D. Roger's will. The man destined to become one of the Four Emperors of the New World.
And most famously the wielder of the most terrifying power of all: the "Face Fruit," also known as the fruit of endless charisma.
As the two sides drew closer, Liam finally saw them clearly. Shanks and his men were all so young barely out of their teens or twenties. Their faces still carried the raw confidence of youth, though even now, their presence was formidable.
All except Ben Beckman, of course. He already looked like the seasoned veteran he was sharp-eyed, calm, and carrying an air of quiet intellect.
The Red-Haired crew stood ready, fearless, their energy sharp as drawn blades.
The Marine flagship came alongside them, creaking hull to hull.
Vice Admiral Spider, his long coat billowing in the wind, stepped forward with a cold glare. "Red-Haired Shanks," he announced in a voice like steel, "former crew member of the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger. Current bounty over one hundred million Berries. A notorious pirate."
Gasps rippled through the Marines behind him. Even the rookies knew what that meant. Anyone who had once sailed under Roger's flag was no ordinary man.
Shanks chuckled, breaking the heavy silence. "Ah, Vice Admiral Spider the famed practitioner of the Eight-Blade Style, right?"
Spider narrowed his eyes. He wasn't one of the Admirals, but his skill was well-known among the Marines. Anyone who held the rank of Vice Admiral had earned it through sheer power.
"Red-Haired Shanks," Spider said coldly, "today's the end of your voyage. Men, attack! Wipe out these pirates!"
Liam nearly burst out laughing. End of his voyage? If only the Vice Admiral knew who he was dealing with.
If Shanks could be taken down this easily, the New World would've been a peaceful place long ago.
Then came the familiar chime in Liam's mind.
Ding!
"Mission Triggered: Challenge Red-Haired Shanks in a sword duel. Survive for five minutes without defeat."
"Success Reward: Mysterious Treasure Chest."
"Failure Penalty: Forced Transformation Glamorous Bikini Outfit (Duration: 24 Hours)."
Liam froze. "Again?!"
Of all the punishments his system could invent, this one might have been the cruelest yet. The last one had been bad enough, but this? He nearly wanted to jump overboard.
Still… he couldn't afford to lose. Not now.
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he assessed Shanks from afar. "His swordsmanship can't be at its peak yet," he muttered. "Maybe at the level of a swordsman, but not a great one."
There was still a chance. Five minutes. He just needed to hold on.
The sound of cannon fire shattered his thoughts.
"Fire!"
The Marine battleships launched their first volley, iron shells screaming through the air.
But before they could hit, the pirate crew retaliated. The blond gunman Yasopp grinned, raised both pistols, and fired.
"Can't let you hog all the fun!" he laughed.
Bullets ignited mid-air, bursting into blazing red birds that swooped toward the Marine decks before detonating.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Flames and smoke engulfed the waves. Marines cried out in panic, diving for cover as the sky lit up in fiery arcs.
"Board them!" Spider roared, slamming his swords into the deck. Gangplanks crashed down between the ships, and Marines surged forward with a unified roar.
"Eight-Blade Style Aurora Flash!"
Spider lunged, his body turning into a blur of steel and light.
Shanks met him head-on, unsheathing his western-style sword Griffon with a calm, almost playful smile.
Their blades met in a brilliant flash.
Clang!
A violent shockwave split the air, rippling across the deck. Spider stumbled back a step, eyes widening. That single strike had been enough to tell him this man wasn't the apprentice from Roger's ship anymore.
"I underestimated you," Spider growled. "But it won't save you. The sea doesn't need another Roger!"
Shanks's smile didn't fade. "Maybe. But my journey isn't ending here. The stars and the sea those are my destinations. And you can't stop me."
Spider's eyes hardened, bloodlust flickering in his gaze.
"Eight-Blade Style Tempest Strike!"
Eight blades flashed at once, spinning in a blinding storm of light that tore through the air like a cyclone. The shockwave shredded the ocean spray into mist, the pressure alone carving fine cracks through the air around them.
The next instant, the storm of blades roared toward Shanks
and Liam, standing on the nearby warship, gripped his sword tightly.
The system chimed again.
Mission Start.
It was time.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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