East Blue – Log Town
The port town, known as the "Town of Beginnings and Endings," was now surrounded by countless Marine warships.
Black cannon muzzles pointed toward the sea, decks crowded with fully armed soldiers, the oppressive weight of tension so thick it seemed to suffocate the air itself.
Garp had arrived first, standing at the very edge of the pier, arms crossed, silently staring at the distant horizon. Behind him, Kong, Sengoku, and Zephyr arrived with their ships and stood shoulder to shoulder—equally silent.
The salty sea wind swept through the harbor, whipping their cloaks around them, but it could not lift the darkness that hung over every mind.
No one spoke.No one dared speak.
The entire harbor seemed muted, as if someone had pressed a cosmic pause button. Only the waves slapped against the shore—one, two, three—like a countdown ticking somewhere in the depths of time.
They had stood here for three days. Three days to confirm one truth.
"Tizolo…" Lipo's soft voice finally broke the silence. She clutched the hem of her coat and bit her lip, barely daring to speak.
"Tell me… Gern… he'll be all right, won't he?"
Her words were quiet, yet they fell like a stone into a still, frozen lake, sending ripples through the invisible tension.
Tizolo didn't answer immediately. His gaze swept over the few figures standing like statues at the forefront—the strongest in the world—now terrifyingly silent.
No one could approach that sea anymore, so no one could know the outcome of what had transpired there. Only this was certain: whether Gern or Roger… both of them would eventually converge on Log Town.
So when Lipo asked, he had no answer. He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"I'm… sorry, Lipo. I don't know."
It was the most honest answer he could give. And the cruelest.
Lipo's eyes glistened red, but she lifted her chin stubbornly, refusing to let tears fall.
Then—
"It's coming!"
A lookout's shout rang out from the watchtower.
Every heart in the harbor skipped a beat.
Through the morning mist, a battered pirate ship emerged slowly on the horizon. Its hull leaned to one side, decks scarred black from fire and slashed by countless blades. Broken masts drooped over the sides, swaying with the waves.
Breath caught in every throat.
At the bow, sitting cross-legged with his head bowed, was Gern, clutching the black blade Hakkō.
The gray-white wrappings that once covered the sheath had been mostly torn away, revealing the dark blade beneath.
He wore no shirt beneath his coat, which was soaked in blood. The dried stains had hardened into dark red crusts across the fabric.
On the dock, Lipo pressed her hands over her mouth, eyes reddened, voice trembling.
"G… Gern… he's… back."
"T-Tizolo…" Tizolo's gaze never wavered from the ship, throat tight, muscles tensed.
Garp's fists clenched, knuckles cracking with audible pops, before he slammed one into the pier. The ground splintered beneath him, stones flying.
Sengoku closed his eyes, silently.
Zephyr exhaled in relief and slowly removed his sunglasses.
Only Kong's lips moved as he stepped forward, preparing to demand where Roger was… when the wind and mist revealed a second figure through the haze of the morning.
The shadow beneath the torn sails took shape.
The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.
His hands were bound by Seastone cuffs, leaning against a broken mast. A loose coat—once belonging to this pirate ship's captain—hung over his chest, which bore unhealed scars from recent battles.
Sensing the gazes upon him, Roger slowly raised his head. His eyes met Garp's through the mist, a silent recognition passing between old rivals—no explanations, no farewells, not a hint of regret.
"Heh… heh heh heh…" Roger's lips curled into a grin, growing wider and wider, until a roar of laughter burst forth, shaking the harbor to its core:
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
The sound carried a strange, intoxicating force, shattering the oppressive tension and startling flocks of seagulls.
Sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting a golden halo over the scene.
Garp's expression froze.
Two rivals, separated by decades of pursuit, battle, and mutual respect, now spoke without words.
Suddenly, Garp's shoulders shook.
"Ha… hahaha… HAHAHAHA!"
The Marine hero's laughter transformed from deep, low chuckles to unhinged hysteria, then into a howl that tore through him. He rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face.
"Roger!!! You damned bastard!!!"
At that precise moment, the bells of Log Town rang across the square.
The deep chimes rolled over the sea and sky, mingling with the cries of seagulls tracing arcs through the morning light, as if heralding the end of one era and the dawn of another.
All present knew: from this moment, the seas would enter a new chapter.
And no one noticed, perched atop the harbor's tallest lighthouse, a birdman in a top hat raised a camera.
Morgans, President of the World Economy News, shook as he pressed the shutter, capturing the scene forever.
In the photograph: Roger, laughing, facing Garp's wild, manic gaze; the shattered pirate ship; the Marines standing rigid—each element a perfect contrast. And at the bow, sitting silently, Gern became both witness and executor of this passing era.
This image, alongside the later photograph of Roger's execution, would be remembered as "The Fall of the King", a historical moment that altered the world's balance.
Yet in angles unseen by the crowd, Gern's lips curved briefly into a fleeting smile, devoid of joy.
"It's over."
…
In truth, at the conclusion of the three-day, three-night peak battle, the one defeated was him.
Against Roger at full strength—the true apex of the world—Gern, even while battling a terminal illness, could not win.
But as always: underhanded or ruthless…
His future demanded a stroke this dark, this heavy.
In the moment when victory was almost determined, Gern's lips trembled as he muttered words no one could hear.
Those words froze Roger's strike mid-motion. A complex emotion flashed across the Pirate King's eyes. Then… he laughed.
Relieved, yet expectant.
And in a move Gern had never anticipated, Roger released his grip on the blade, letting Ace plummet into the depths of the sea, completing the moment that would be called "The King's Fall."
That sea became a forbidden zone.
The shockwaves of their battle had distorted the very laws of space across a ten-thousand-meter radius. The waters no longer flowed, shattered islands hovered midair, even light bent unnaturally.
Generations later, this place would be called The Ruins of Shinning Death, where the Pirate King's weapons and final fate lay buried.
…
[Salty Fish Commentary: "This era belonged to Roger. Even the creators of Gern must admit: without systems or cheats… in this age, Roger was the pinnacle. No one could defeat him one-on-one in a death match.
Because he was the man who had conquered the seas: Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King!"]