"Congratulations, host. Mission complete."
"You have received one Mystery Chest. Would you like to open it now?"
The mechanical chime of the system echoed in Liam Ross's mind the instant his fist sent Chinjao crashing across the battlefield.
He smirked slightly. Just as he'd predicted.
But after a brief thought, he chose not to open it right away. There were more pressing matters to deal with first.
Over the past few days, Liam had spent a great deal of time refining his next move. He had three identities now, and each served a different purpose.
The true Liam Ross would remain hidden within the Navy Headquarters, a harmless face, the perfect unassuming soldier yet secretly the one pulling every string from behind the curtain.
His clone, acting under the alias Monk D. Lofei, would rule the New World as a pirate emperor an unstoppable force sailing beneath a name that inspired awe and fear alike.
And finally, there was the Emperor of the Underworld, known to his enemies as The Hidden Monarch, a shadowy figure who commanded the dark networks of the seas.
The plan thrilled him. Just imagining the chaos these three masks could create made his blood sing.
To begin, though, he needed power and followers.
The Eight Treasures Navy, led by the famed Drill Fist Chinjao, was a force too valuable to waste. And now that Liam had restored Chinjao's long-lost drill-shaped head, he had leverage. Gratitude mixed with manipulation could do wonders.
Liam's lips curved into a calculating grin. A bit of persuasion, a touch of flattery and he'll be mine.
Across the battlefield, the scene was somber. The men of the Chinjao family and the Eight Treasures Navy gathered around their fallen leader, their faces pale and grim.
"Father! Are you alright?" Sai Chinjao's broad-shouldered son rushed to his side, his voice tight with worry.
"Cough… cough…"
Chinjao pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged with a weary groan. His breath came ragged, but his spirit remained unbroken. "I'm not dead yet," he muttered hoarsely. "Though to think this old man would lose to a mere youngster…"
He trailed off, bitterness flashing in his eyes. Ever since Garp had flattened his skull years ago, he'd lived in humiliation, his pride shattered along with his head. Now, to lose again, and in front of his men
It was unbearable.
Damn that Garp. It's all his fault!
He clenched his fists, seething. If not for him, I would still stand above them all!
Then his son's startled voice broke through his thoughts. "Father… your head… it's… different."
Chinjao blinked. "Different? What nonsense are you talking about? Did that brat crack it again?"
He reached up irritably then froze.
His fingertips brushed the familiar, pointed shape at the top of his skull.
A tremor ran through his body.
"This… this can't be…" he whispered, disbelief flickering in his eyes.
He touched it again, harder this time, feeling the solid, sharp edge of his restored drill-shaped head. And then, like a dam breaking, joy flooded through him.
"Hahahaha! My head it's back! My drill is back!"
Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as laughter burst from his chest. The mighty pirate who had terrorized the seas now looked like a child reunited with a long-lost treasure.
When Liam approached, watching him with an amused expression, Chinjao's laughter stopped abruptly. He wiped his eyes and scowled. "What are you looking at, boy? You here to mock an old man's misery?"
"Mock you? Not at all." Liam tilted his head, voice dripping with calm confidence. "If it weren't for me, that head of yours would still be as flat as the deck you're standing on."
Chinjao's son blinked. Even the crew nodded reluctantly he wasn't wrong.
The old pirate fell silent, then stood up with effort, his large frame still imposing despite the damage. His sharp gaze fixed on Liam. "You're right. You've returned to me something I thought I'd lost forever. You have my gratitude, boy and the friendship of the Chinjao family."
Liam gave a faint smile. "Friendship is a good start. But gratitude alone doesn't feed ambition."
Chinjao narrowed his eyes. "Then what is it you want?"
"Simple." Liam met his gaze evenly. "I want the Eight Treasures Navy to withdraw from this territory. Immediately."
The pirate chief frowned, pondering the demand. After a moment of silence, he nodded. "Fine. We'll leave. But on one condition our trade routes with the Flower Kingdom remain untouched."
Liam's smile deepened. "That can be arranged."
The two men clasped hands briefly. A silent understanding passed between them temporary allies in a game much larger than either side realized.
But Liam wasn't finished.
"There's one more thing," he said, his tone suddenly harder. "I want your family."
Chinjao froze. "What did you say?"
"I said," Liam repeated evenly, "I want the Chinjao family to serve under me."
The words dropped like a cannonball.
The surrounding soldiers exchanged uneasy looks. Chinjao's brow darkened. "You're overstepping, boy."
Liam didn't back down. His eyes gleamed, cold and sharp. "Tell me, Drill Fist Chinjao are you really content to fade away into obscurity? To spend the rest of your life sulking in the shadows, haunted by the past?"
Chinjao's jaw tightened.
"Once, your name alone could shake the seas," Liam continued, voice low and magnetic. "But after your defeat, what are you now? A crippled legend no one remembers? A wolf without fangs, waiting to die forgotten in some forgotten port?"
"Watch your tongue!" Chinjao barked, his Conqueror's Haki surging like a thunderclap.
But Liam stood firm, unflinching beneath the invisible pressure.
"The name 'Drill Fist Chinjao' used to mean something," he said quietly. "Then you lost your head literally and figuratively. But now, your drill has returned. The symbol of your pride, your power, your glory. Isn't it time to rise again? To reclaim your place among the greats and show the world that the legend still lives?"
The air fell still.
Liam's words struck deep, echoing in Chinjao's heart like the toll of a bell. For a moment, the old pirate said nothing. His hands trembled, his expression unreadable.
Liam didn't press. He turned, letting his final words hang heavy in the air. "Think about it. When you're ready to rise again, you'll know where to find me."
With that, he walked away, his coat fluttering behind him as he rejoined Capone Bege and his clone, Monk D. Lofei.
His cold eyes swept across the remnants of the two crime families watching from the shadows.
"Move," he ordered. "Leave no one standing at the top."
And as his forces advanced, the night echoed with screams and the roar of collapsing power
a fitting prelude to the reign of the man who would one day rule both light and shadow.
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