The ship cut through the waves with effortless grace, not propelled by wind, but by the colossal form of Gargar, the happy-go-lucky Sea King shark-kraken, whose powerful strokes towed their humble vessel towards the distant horizon.
Ahead of them lay Amazon Lily, a destination Rayleigh had all but forced them to visit, insisting it was the ideal place for Guts to undergo his next, essential training.
At the very bow, Robin leaned against the railing, her hair whipping gently in the sea breeze.
She murmured softly, her voice a soothing cadence, sharing quiet words with her massive aquatic friend, whose gentle hum resonated through the ship's hull.
The wind, salty and comfortable, felt like a soft caress against her skin.
A small, amused chuckle escaped her lips as she listened to the familiar, ceaseless bickering of Guts and Rayleigh emanating from under the mainmast, which remained closed and secured, its sails furled, since Gargar had joined their little family.
"Come on, young man! You're gonna be part of the Oka Shichibukai anyway, right?"
Rayleigh's booming voice carried easily over the rush of the sea.
"It's the perfect opportunity! Think of it! The Devil Swordman, Captain of the Devil Pirates! Doesn't that just sound cool?"
He grinned, clearly enjoying the role of instigator.
"No," Guts retorted, his voice a low growl, utterly devoid of amusement.
"Like I said earlier, piracy is not cool."
"Nonsense!"
Rayleigh scoffed, undeterred.
"You've got the potential, young man! You could be the next Pirate King! Just think of it, with your reputation, and a ship being pulled by a Sea King? You'd scare anybody!"
"I'm not going to become any king," Guts stated flatly, his arms crossed.
"And I'm not going to scare anybody."
Rayleigh threw his head back and laughed, a rich, hearty sound.
"What do you mean, not going to scare anybody? Just you standing in a corner, brooding, is enough to scare the living daylights out of half the Marines I know!" he said, highly amused.
"Roger himself wasn't like a traditional pirate," Guts countered, recalling his brief, sharp insights into the Pirate King from the bits of memory and wisdom Rayleigh had shared. "He and the others were just a bunch of travelers playing pirate."
In the cozy cabin below deck, Shakky sat cross-legged, perfectly content, methodically counting the ฿400.000 Guts had given her for her troubles and destruction he caused back in Sabaody.
Her lips were pursed in a satisfied hum.
Their humble ship, which usually drifted quietly, almost unnoticed across the vast expanses of the sea, was now surprisingly merry.
The rhythmic pull of Gargar, the comfortable creak of the hull, and the lively banter between the legendary Dark King and the brooding Black Swordsman filled the journey with an unusual, vibrant energy.
Eventually, their conversation turned to the giant, wrapped bundle that was Guts's most fearsome companion.
Rayleigh's eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on the greatsword. He had seen its impossible size, felt the oppressive aura that sometimes radiated from it, and his curiosity, rarely stirred, was piqued.
"Say, Guts," Rayleigh mused, leaning against the mast.
"That blade of yours... the Dragon Slayer. Mind if I give it a swing?"
Guts merely smirked, a rare, thin curve of his lips.
He walked over to where the massive sword lay sheathed, unstrapped the protective cloths, and gently laid it down on the deck. "Go ahead," he rumbled, stepping back.
"If you can."
Rayleigh, a man who had faced untold dangers and wielded immense power, grabbed the sword's hilt.
The moment his fingers closed around the cold, black metal, a dreadful feeling gnawed on his very being.
It was not just heavy; it was... wrong.
A chilling whisper slithered into his mind, then grew into a cacophony.
He began to hear and feel the torturous souls that Dragon Slayer had reaped – the agonized screams of demons, the silent despair of monstrous entities, the bitter curses of those it had sent to hell.
The sheer weight of their collective agony pressed down on his spirit, trying to crush him.
Instinctively, his Conqueror's Haki exploded outwards, a silent, invisible force attempting to repel the spiritual assault.
He gritted his teeth, his muscles straining, and with a grunt, he began to lift it.
The Dragon Slayer, a weapon that defied physics, rose slowly from the deck, a testament to Rayleigh's overwhelming strength and willpower.
But as the blade reached waist height, a new, insidious sensation began.
He started to feel the corrosion affecting his soul, a cold, creeping decay seeping past his formidable Haki, trying to unravel the very fabric of his spirit, to drag him into the abyss of the sword's tormented existence.
The whispers turned to wails, the anguish threatened to overwhelm his consciousness. It was a spiritual poison, beyond mere physical might.
With a sharp gasp, Rayleigh's grip faltered. The colossal blade crashed back onto the deck with a heavy THUD, sending tremors through the ship.
He leaned on the mast, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and grim understanding.
He looked at Guts, then back at the sword.
It was not about how strong you are.
Without Guts's absurdity, without that profound connection to the interstice, no one could wield it.
Not even the legendary Dark King.
Robin clutched the railing, her knuckles white.
Even after the immediate, crushing pressure had receded, the lingering phantom echo of Rayleigh's Conqueror's Haki left her breathless, her vision swimming.
She had almost lost consciousness, almost tumbled into the churning sea below. But something deep within her, a mysterious power inside her, had flared, a spark against the overwhelming force, keeping her tethered to consciousness, though barely.
The brunt of the impact, however, had been taken by their massive, faithful friend.
Gargar, whimpering and quivering like a frightened pup despite his colossal size, had momentarily ceased towing, his massive body trembling in the water.
As the last tendrils of the potent Haki faded, Robin, shaking off the residual disorientation, spun around, her eyes flashing with rare indignation.
"Rayleigh-san!" she scolded, her voice sharp with uncharacteristic anger. "You scared Gargar!"
Before Rayleigh could respond, the cabin door burst open with a violent THWACK. Shakky emerged, a truly scary face contorted in a mask of fury.
She moved with frightening speed, her hand, clearly coated in invisible Haki, smacked the back of Rayleigh's head with a resounding SMACK! that made him drop to his knees.
Without missing a beat, she stomped on his prone form.
"You idiot!" Shakky snarled, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You made the Belly I was counting so hard scattered everywhere!"
Guts, witnessing Robin's near fall, had felt a surge of his protective rage, an urge to join Shakky in punching and stomping Rayleigh.
But seeing the Dark King already suffering sufficiently, a faint, almost imperceptible wave of common sense washed over him.
He held back, a rare moment of restraint for the Black Swordsman.
Instead, Guts reached into his tattered cloak pocket.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes he'd gotten from Guernica, still half-full.
The aroma, rich and complex, hinted at their expensive origin. He quietly liked the taste of them. He lit one with a practiced flick of his lighter, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke curl from his lips.
Once Shakky had returned to the cabin, no doubt to resume her meticulous counting, Guts offered the pack to Rayleigh, who, now bruised but chastened, gratefully took one.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic pull of Gargar, who had already resumed towing their ship, a steady presence.
The two men enjoyed their cigarettes, the smoke mingling with the sea air.
"Curious," Guts rumbled, breaking the quiet. "Why did the World Government leave you alone, old man?"
Rayleigh took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"Hmm? Ah, well. Once my captain got executed, they came calling. Just like they did with you, Guts. They reached out. But the difference was, we came to a non-cooperative agreement."
He chuckled, a wry, knowing sound. "They left me be, and I stayed out of their hair, for the most part. They had their hands full with the new era anyway."
Half a day later, with Gargar's incredible speed, they finally reached their destination.
The horizon swelled, revealing the distinct outline of Amazon Lily.
It rose from the tranquil, beast-filled waters of the Calm Belt like a verdant, jade-green jewel.
A colossal, lush, tropical jungle covered every inch of the island, its ancient, towering trees reaching heights that seemed to pierce the very clouds.
Strange, vibrant flora bloomed in impossible colors, and the air was thick with the rich scent of exotic plants and the distant calls of unseen, colossal fauna.
Deep within, mountains loomed, hinting at the hidden heart of the island of women.
As their ship approached the island's shores, being gently guided into a hidden cove by Gargar, Robin swayed slightly.
The wind, the very land, and the ancient trees seemed to begin to whisper to her, their mournful voices resonating with her unique Whisperer ability.
She heard echoes of the past, the tragic history of the island.
The whispers spoke of the previous Queen's suffering, a sorrow so profound it had permeated the very fabric of the island.
They told tales of how she had died in loneliness and heartbreak, consumed by a silent sickness, isolated even in her rule.
Robin felt the weight of that profound, historical grief pressing down on her.
Her eyes welled up.
She started to sniff again, a quiet, almost continuous sound that had become more frequent.
Since they had left Fish-Man Island and Shirahoshi's farewell, Robin had begun to become quite emotional.
It was as if a long-sealed dam within her had fractured, and the wellspring of suppressed feelings was finally, steadily leaking out.