Grand Line — Aboard the Behemoth, Flagship of the Rocks Pirates
One Day After the Dead Reef Island Massacre
The Behemoth was not a ship—it was a cataclysm sealed in hull plating.
Forged from the wreckage of ancient warships and reinforced with slats of volcanic Seastone, the vessel groaned with every tide it cut through. Towering decks, cannon turrets, chained Sea King skulls bolted to the hull—this was not a pirate ship. It was a war engine, baptized in fire and ambition.
And at its core, in the dim infirmary chambers below the war deck, Rakan awoke.
His body ached like he'd been dropped into a volcano and frozen in a trench. But his eyes opened sharp and alert, pupils narrowing like a predator in dark water. Above him, the iron ceiling swayed with the sea's rhythm, chains clinking softly in the lantern-lit silence.
He sat up slowly, muscles flexing beneath tight linen wrappings.
His wounds from the battle with Linlin and Shiki were already gone—closed by unnatural healing. His skin was marked with fresh scars that traced his back like ancient runes.
A shadow fell across him.
He looked up—and saw him.
Standing across the room, arms folded, was the most dangerous man alive.
His coat hung loosely from one shoulder, lined in wolf-fur and soaked in the scent of powder and steel. His bare chest was crossed with jagged, vertical scars—earned, not given. His eyes burned with a mixture of madness and purpose, as if the world existed to be consumed.
Rocks D. Xebec.
"Awake, boy?" the man growled, voice like thunder rolling over a battlefield.
Rakan didn't answer at first. He flexed his shoulders. Tension rippled down his back.
He stood from the cot without wincing.
"You're Captain Rocks," Rakan said simply.
Rocks grinned like a wolf finding a new cub.
"Aye. Captain Rocks D. Xebec. Pirate, killer, conqueror—call me what you will. The seas call me the storm that ends empires."
He stepped forward, boots striking iron with calculated force.
"You tore through Marines and pirates like driftwood. You made Linlin bleed. You took Shiki's blades and still breathed. That's interesting."
From the shadows beside the door, another presence emerged.
Shiki the Golden Lion, wild blond mane cascading behind him like the crest of a tidal wave, sword hilts shining gold in the low light, laughed with crooked teeth.
"GYAHAHAHA! Not bad for a brat. Though you did take two hits before you dropped."
Rakan looked at Shiki, gaze cool.
"You hit from behind."
Shiki chuckled. "Still counts."
"Doesn't matter how. I lost," Rakan said without flinching. "Only cowards cry about the rules."
Shiki's grin widened. "Now that's the kind of answer I like."
Rocks watched the exchange carefully, then let out a short, sharp laugh of his own.
"You're different," he said. "Most who crawl into my crew grovel. Beg for protection, or chase gold like starving dogs. But you—"
He stepped forward until he stood nose-to-nose with Rakan.
"You have ambition."
"So I'll make an exception."
Rocks turned toward a locked chest and kicked it open with a clang. Inside were dozens of emblem tags, pirate rank plates, and signal Den Den Mushi, each one carrying the weight of command.
He tossed Rakan a black, spiral-shelled communication snail.
"That's your leash. You don't need to stay on this ship—but when I call, you come."
Then he pulled out something heavier.
A book. Thick. Worn. Bound in blackened sharkskin. The front was scarred, as though it had seen battle itself.
He handed it over.
"This is everything I know," Rocks said. "My battles. My failures. My haki theory. My war doctrine. Sea maps that the World Government buries in archives. Read it. Memorize it. It'll take you to places no Devil Fruit ever could."
Rakan took the book in both hands, his fingers brushing the scorched cover.
"You want me to be your student?"
Rocks narrowed his eyes.
"No."
"I want you to become something the world regrets creating."
Rakan met his gaze, unwavering.
"Then I have a vow."
Silence fell. Even Shiki leaned off the wall.
Rakan continued:
"I'll follow you. I'll learn everything you teach. But one day… when I'm ready… I'll challenge you."
"I won't wait for you to fall. I'll take the throne."
Rocks stared at him.
And for the first time, his grin faded—not out of offense, but recognition.
Then, slowly, his lips curled again into a smirk.
"Good."
"No one in this crew is loyal. They're hungry. That's the only thing that keeps them here."
"But you… you want something bigger than treasure or power."
He held out his hand.
Rakan took it.
As their palms locked, Rocks squeezed.
The pressure was immediate. Bones creaked. Fingers trembled. Rocks wasn't using Haki. Just brute strength—the raw, monstrous power of a man who bent steel with a shrug.
Rakan held firm, blood rushing to his temple. Pain flared—but he didn't pull away.
He smiled through the agony.
"You'll have to try harder, Captain."
Rocks laughed, finally releasing him. Rakan flexed his fingers. Bruised. Swollen. Not broken.
Shiki grinned.
"GYAHAHA! This one's got bite. You sure you don't want to kill him now before he becomes a problem?"
Rocks snorted.
"Let him try."
Then he gestured to the door.
"You're not a prisoner. You've got freedom. You want to carve your own seas? Do it."
"But when I call—you answer."
Rakan nodded. Then, quietly:
"You'll never need to call twice."
He tucked the book under his arm, turned to the open hatch, and with a single acrobatic backflip, vaulted off the warship's deck.