The news of the Battle of Edd War spread across the seas faster than the storm that had decided it. Days later, a news coo dropped the latest newspaper onto the deck of the Oro Jackson.
The front-page headline was printed in bold letters, so large they seemed to jump off the page:
"BATTLE OF THE CENTURY! GOLDEN LION'S GRAND FLEET ANNIHILATED! GOL D. ROGER, THE UNBEATEN LEGEND OF THE SEA!"
The article described the battle in vivid detail. It portrayed the Golden Lion Shiki's massive fleet of twenty-five flying warships as a divine force descending from the heavens, and it painted the Oro Jackson's lonely fight as an epic, heroic tragedy. Toward the end of the article, the writer's tone shifted to one of awe and confusion as they described the "unnatural" and "seemingly controlled" superstorm.
"...The sea and the sky themselves seemed to become Roger's allies. The natural disaster turned into a hammer of judgment, smashing the arrogant Flying Pirate Fleet into the abyss. The Golden Lion himself was impaled through the head by a piece of a broken rudder and fled in disgrace, his life hanging by a thread. This battle marks the end of one powerful era and the birth of another absolute legend..."
"Kuhahaha! 'Allies of the sea'! The reporter who wrote this sure has a way with words!" Jabba held the newspaper and laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face. "It was obviously Kyle who did all that, but the weather gets all the credit!"
Buggy, who was hiding nearby, nervously touched his red nose, which had almost been scorched in the battle. "Don't even talk about it," he muttered. "My legs still go weak every time I see a dark cloud... Brother Kyle was scarier than any devil that day..."
Kyle paid them no mind. He simply leaned against the railing, polishing his saber, indifferent to the praise in the newspaper or the chatter of his crewmates. The joy from their victory had faded quickly, like a receding tide. The only thing that remained in his mind was Crocus's diagnosis: "Three to four years, at most."
No matter how great their victory was, it couldn't give Roger a single extra second of life. That feeling of powerlessness was like a sharp thorn stuck in his heart.
The Oro Jackson had been severely damaged in the fight. The crew found a quiet, secluded island with a small, simple shipyard where they could make repairs in peace. The shipwrights were busy at work, hammering and sawing, while most of the crew went into the nearby town to restock supplies or drink and celebrate, trying to wash away the exhaustion from the battle.
Kyle didn't go with them.
He stayed behind, sitting alone on a pile of discarded lumber in a corner of the shipyard. From his spot, he could see the entire Oro Jackson. He sat there perfectly still, like a statue.
Suddenly, a tall, muscular figure blocked the sunlight in front of him.
"Hey."
Kyle looked up into the rock-hard face of Douglas Bullet. The man known as the "Demon Heir" radiated an aura of pure power and danger.
Bullet didn't waste any time with small talk. "That storm during the Battle of Edd War. That was you," he stated, his voice direct. "Your strength is far greater than what you let everyone see."
Kyle didn't answer. He just looked at him calmly.
Bullet continued, his voice deep and powerful, as if he were stating a simple fact. "Roger is strong, I'll admit that. But he's a sick man. He's dying and doesn't have much time left. From here on out, his strength will only decline."
He took another step closer, looking down at Kyle with a gaze as sharp as a knife. "You're still young, and you're only getting stronger. Why are you following a sun that's about to set? Don't you think it's ridiculous to waste your power on a sinking ship?"
For the first time, Kyle's expression changed. The air around him seemed to grow colder. Bullet was playing with fire.
But Bullet either didn't notice or didn't care. He believed only in the law of absolute strength. "Leave this crew, Kyle. Powerful men like you and me shouldn't be tied down by this so-called 'friendship game.' The sea should be our stage, not someone's funeral!"
"Are you done?" Kyle finally spoke. His voice was soft, but it held a chilling coldness.
"You..."
Before Bullet could finish his sentence, Kyle vanished. In the next instant, he reappeared directly in front of Bullet. There were no fancy moves, just a simple, straight punch.
Bullet's pupils shrank. He instinctively crossed his arms to block, his powerful Armament Haki instantly hardening his skin.
"Boom!"
A dull thud echoed, feeling as if it had exploded deep inside Bullet's chest. He felt like he had been hit head-on by a charging Sea King. The bones in his arms groaned under the immense pressure, and he was sent flying backward like a cannonball, crashing hard into a distant wall of stacked ship planks.
"Cough...!" Bullet struggled to his feet from the pile of splintered wood, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. He stared at Kyle in disbelief. The power in that punch was pure, overwhelming, and completely unreasonable.
"You're right," Kyle said, walking toward him step by step, his face completely blank. "Roger doesn't have much time left."
His figure blurred again.
Bullet's nerves were stretched tight as he focused all his attention on tracking Kyle's movement. But this time, Kyle didn't attack. He just pointed his open palm at him from a distance.
"Hmph?!" Bullet let out a grunt. He suddenly felt every muscle, bone, and organ in his body begin to vibrate at a strange, high frequency. It wasn't a force from the outside; it felt like it was coming from within his own body, a sensation that was tearing him apart from the inside out. His proud, steel-like body suddenly felt as fragile as glass.
"Strong... weak..." Kyle's voice seemed to be right next to his ear, yet also far away. "An idiot like you, with nothing but muscles in your head, could never understand."
"What is there to understand?!" Bullet roared. He tried to force his body to stop shaking and threw a desperate punch at Kyle.
Kyle easily sidestepped, letting the wind from the powerful punch blow past him. He then moved in and gently placed his palm on Bullet's back.
Bullet's body went completely rigid. His muscles lost all control and began to spasm violently. His eyes went wide, and he found he couldn't move a single finger. He fell forward and collapsed onto the ground, twitching.
Kyle looked down at him, his golden eyes showing no anger, only cold indifference.
"On this ship, every single one of us is betting our lives to follow that man. We aren't here to watch him die; we're here to witness the birth of a new era."
"Do you think Captain Roger's greatest strength is his power?"
"No. It's the way he makes everyone want to smile and follow him, even to their deaths."
"That's something you will never understand."
Kyle released his ability. Bullet lay on the ground, gasping for air. The numbness in his body slowly faded, but the deep shudder that had shaken his soul remained. He had lost. Even without using his Clank-Clank Fruit ability, he had been defeated completely and utterly, without even managing to touch his opponent.
He watched Kyle's back as he walked away. It wasn't a particularly large frame, but for some reason, it overlapped with the memory of Roger standing at the bow of the ship, laughing into the storm.
Bullet said nothing more. He just sat up, leaned against the broken wall, and fell silent.
Far away, in the shadows of the shipyard, Rayleigh and Jabba stood side by side.
"That kid really doesn't hold back," Jabba said with a chuckle, taking a sip from his flask.
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, a faint smile on his lips. "Sometimes, a ship needs someone to clear out the noise. It's much quieter now."
He looked toward the Oro Jackson as it was being repaired, his gaze thoughtful.
Yes, their time was running out. That's why there was no room for anyone to hesitate or lose their way.
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