Shanks leaned against the railing of the Red Force, observing his crew on the deck with a satisfied smile. The long days of uncertainty and relentless waves seemed like a distant memory as the sea breeze carried the familiar sounds of laughter and camaraderie. Shanks's heart swelled with relief and joy. He cherished each member of his crew, and their safety was his greatest comfort. He was filled with a renewed sense of purpose and unspoken gratitude.
With the end of the invading threat and Marya's rampage, the Red Hair pirates were directed to dock the Red Force into the secluded port, nestled within the jagged, shadowy cliffs of the Consortium's hidden enclave. This clandestine harbor is a secret haven where ships and submarines could dock unseen by the prying eyes of the outside world. The port's entrance was a narrow, winding channel, barely wide enough to allow passage for a vessel, and was guarded by high walls of natural rock that made any approach a perilous endeavor.
As twilight descended, casting a deep indigo hue over the waters, the Red Force glided silently into the harbor. The ship, a sleek and formidable craft with a hull that seemed to absorb the very light around it, moved with an effortless grace. Her crew, seasoned and vigilant, worked in unison to maneuver the vessel into its hidden berth. Once securely moored, the Red Force blended flawlessly into the shadows of the concealed port. The port, though hidden, was meticulously maintained, with ample supplies and facilities for any necessary repairs or provisions.
As the first rays of dawn washed over the concealed port, illuminating its hidden splendor, Hango, the ship's doctor, returned to the Red Force, his shoulders hunched in exhaustion and quiet purpose. The two days since the Red Hair pirates had helped defend Consortium's Island from invaders and Marya's rampage had been relentless for him as he worked alongside the Consortium's medical staff to provide aid and support.
Hango walked up the gangplank, his medical bag hanging heavily from his shoulder. His usually pristine white coat was now smudged and stained from the endless duties he had performed. As he stepped onto the deck, he saw Shanks and Beckman waiting for him, their faces etched with concern but also relief at his return.
Shanks stood tall, his red hair catching the light as his black cloak swayed, outlining his silhouette. Beside him, Beckman, the first mate, leaned against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The scent of tobacco mingled with the salty sea air. As he approached, Beckman blew out a puff of smoke and locked onto Hango.
"Welcome back, Hango," Shanks greeted, resting his hand on Gryphon's hilt. "How are things on the island?"
Hango set down his bag and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's been a challenging couple of days," he began, cocking his hip, he crossed his arms. "The medical staff and facilities at the Consortium are working tirelessly. We've managed to stabilize most of the wounded."
Beckman took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Any major concerns we should know about?"
Hango nodded, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "There are still a few critical cases that need constant attention. Some of our crew members are also recovering, but they're in good hands. The Consortium's resources are vast, but the sheer number of injured has stretched them thin."
Shanks placed a reassuring hand on Hango's shoulder. "You've done an incredible job, Hango. Your dedication has made a real difference."
"Thank you, Captain," Hango replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "But it's a team effort. The Consortium's medical staff is exceptional, and their facilities are top-notch. We've been able to coordinate well, ensuring that everyone gets the care they need."
Beckman flicked the ash from his cigarette and reclined against the railing. "And what about the island itself? How's the morale?"
Hango sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The people are resilient, but the aftermath of the invasion and Marya's rampage has left its mark. There's a sense of cautious optimism, though. They're grateful for our help and the support we've provided."
Shanks nodded with a relaxed gaze. "We'll continue to support them in any way we can."
Hango smiled, taking a deep breath. "I've also been able to restock some of our medical supplies thanks to the Consortium. We're better prepared for any future incidents."
Beckman gave a slight nod, his cigarette almost finished. "Good to hear."
As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue across the horizon, Beckman turned to Shanks, lifting a curious brow. "So, Captain, what are you considering next?"
Shanks took a moment before replying. "Just weighing our options, Beckman. There's a lot to consider."
Beckman tilted his head and lit a cigarette, sensing there was more to Shanks' thoughts. "You mean claiming the island and offering our protection, don't you?" he probed gently.
A faint smile played on Shanks' lips, but he gave no direct answer, only a cryptic nod. "We'll see," he said, leaving his plans shrouded in mystery.
The tranquil ambiance of the harbor was disrupted by a familiar, jovial voice calling from the dock. "Shanks! Are you going to let an old man board, or should I swim over?"
Shanks turned and saw Master Gaius Vesper standing confidently at the edge of the dock. His weathered kiseru pipe released wisps of fragrant smoke into the evening air, mingling with an impish glint in his eye. A smile spread across Shanks' face as he raised a hand in greeting. "Gaius, you're always welcome aboard the Red Force." He motioned for the crew to lower the gangplank.
With a graceful nod, Gaius Vesper stepped onto the ship. "Thank you, Captain. I was on my way to a meeting and thought you might want to join me," he said while adding more tobacco to his pipe.
Shanks, intrigued by the request, inclined his head thoughtfully. "Of course, Gaius. I'd be honored to join you."
The meeting took place in the grand assembly hall of the Library, its high ceilings and intricate mosaics casting a solemn atmosphere over the gathering. The soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the room, their light reflecting off the polished mahogany table where the island leaders sat.
Knox Penrose leaned forward, his handlebar mustache twitching with irritation as he eyed Shanks. "I'll say it again—why is he here?" he asked, his tone gruff with distrust. "This is a matter for the island's leaders, not outsiders."
Master Gaius, seated at the table, puffed on his weathered kiseru pipe with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Shanks and his crew played a crucial role in defending the island during the invasion and helping to subdue Marya during her rampage. His insights could be valuable. I invited him."
Knox's eyes narrowed, but before he could argue further, Amel Ellington, the mayor, raised an authoritative hand, "Enough, Knox. Shanks has proven himself an ally. We need all the help we can get to address what happened."
Vaughn, who had been quietly listening with his arms crossed, spoke up, "We also need to address the invasion. The fact that they got so close to the island is a problem. We need to strengthen our defenses and improve our surveillance."
Knox grunted as he grudgingly agreed. "I'll take care of that. But we need more resources—more guards, better equipment, and a clearer chain of command."
Master Gaius puffed on his pipe with a contemplative groan. "We'll allocate the necessary resources. But we also need to address the root cause of the invasion. Who were they, and what were they after?"
At that moment, the doors to the assembly hall swung open, and Aurélie strode in, her silver hair flowing and Anathema resting at her side. "Apologies for my tardiness."
Nanette Ellington, seated beside Amel, straightened her back, intertwining her fingers as she rested her elbows on the table. Meeting everyone's eyes, "We've confirmed that one of our lead engineers is missing. His name is Dr. Elias Thorn. He was last seen near the eastern docks during the attack. The question is… was he kidnapped, or did he go willingly?"
Knox Penrose, his handlebar mustache twitching angrily, slammed a fist on the table. "It doesn't matter why he's gone. What matters is that we get him back. He knows too much about the technology and our defenses. If he's in their hands, we're in serious trouble."
Aurélie, meeting his gaze, spoke up as if giving a command. "I'll go after them. I'll track him down and bring him back—willing or not."
The room falls silent for a moment, the gravity of her words sinking in. But beneath her confident exterior, there's a flicker of something deeper—something tied to the man who has become her greatest adversary: Darius Rhea.
Master Gaius Vesper, his kiseru pipe in hand, exhales a plume of smoke. "Aurélie," he begins with a slight head tilt, "we can't ignore the fact that Darius Rhea was leading the invaders. Your history with him… it complicates things."
Aurélie's jaw tightens, her stoic mask slipping for just a moment. She knows Gaius is right. Her connection to Darius is not just professional—it's deeply personal. They were once comrades, trained together, fought side by side. But everything changed when Darius's brother died under her watch. Darius holds her responsible, and his bitterness has festered into a consuming vendetta.
"Darius and I have history," Aurélie admits, her steady voice laced with an undercurrent of pain. "But that doesn't change the mission. If anything, it gives me insight into how he thinks. I know his tactics and his weaknesses. I can use that to our advantage."
Knox Penrose strokes his handlebar mustache as he watches her. His rugged face is lined with fatigue, "Your history with Darius could be an asset," he says firmly. "But it could also be a liability. If he's as driven by vengeance as you say, he'll use any opportunity to exploit your connection. Are you sure you can handle that?"
Aurélie's gaze doesn't waver. "I don't have a choice," she replies, flexing her temples. "This isn't just about Darius. It's about protecting our people and our secrets. If the invaders took the engineer, it's because they need his expertise. We can't let them have it."
Master Gaius, chair creeks as he puffs on his weathered kiseru pipe, "Aurélie, your skills are unmatched, but this mission is too dangerous to undertake alone. We don't know what we're dealing with. These invaders were organized and well-equipped. We need a plan."
Nanette Ellington leans back in her seat, crossing her legs. "If Darius is involved, this mission just got a lot more complicated. He's not just after the engineer—he's after you, Aurélie. He'll use this as an opportunity to settle his score. We need to account for that in our plans."
Aurélie's hands clench into fists under the table, her stoic mask slipping again as the weight of her past presses down on her. "I know," she says, quieter now. "But I can't let that stop me. If Darius wants a fight, he'll get one. But I won't let him jeopardize this mission."
Master Gaius taps his pipe against the table with a crease in his brow. "Aurélie, your courage is commendable, but don't underestimate the emotional toll this could take. Darius isn't just an enemy—he's a reminder of your past failures. That kind of weight can cloud your judgment, even if you don't realize it."
Aurélie's gray eyes flicker with sorrowful anger, but she quickly schools herself to stay calm. "I've carried that weight for years, Gaius. I won't let it stop me now. If anything, it's what drives me to make this right."
The room falls silent again, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Knox finally breaks the stillness. Leaning in, "Then it's settled. Aurélie will lead the mission to retrieve the engineer."
Master Gaius sighed, softening as he turned to Aurélie. "I have another concern—Marya." The room fell silent momentarily again as the weight of Master Gaius's worry settled over the group. Marya's rampage had left a profound impact on the island, and her emotional turmoil was a worry for everyone. The mention of Marya's name shifts the atmosphere as if the effect of her rampage still lingers over the group like a storm cloud. All eyes turn to Shanks, leaning back in his chair. His crimson hair catches the dim light of the room, and his single arm rests on the table as he listens intently.
Knox Penrose, his handlebar mustache twitching with barely restrained frustration, slams his fist on the table. "Someone needs to explain what the hell happened with Marya," he demands with sharp authority. "She's one of ours, and she just tore through half the island like a hurricane. What caused that? And why wasn't it contained sooner?"
Shanks exhales slowly, his lips pursed as he considers his response. He leans forward, his presence filling the room as he begins to speak. "Marya's rampage wasn't something any of us could have predicted," he says, with a steady edge of gravity. "Her Devil Fruit power… it' doesn't seem like most others. It doesn't just give her abilities—it appears to have a mind of its own. And when her emotions were pushed to the brink, it took over."
Aurélie, seated across from Shanks, head tilted forward, frowns deeply. "You're saying her power controls her?" she asks in disbelief. "How is that even possible?"
Shanks nods grimly. "It's rare, but it happens, or so they say. Some Devil Fruits are more than just tools—they're entities. They bond with their users but can consume them if the user isn't strong enough to maintain control. Marya's power is tied to her emotions. When she's pushed too far, it takes over."
Master Gaius sighs, his kiseru pipe resting in his hand as he studies Shanks. "So, her rampage wasn't just a breakdown—it was her power acting on its own," he takes a reflective breath. "That complicates things. If her Devil Fruit is that volatile, we can't just treat this as a simple case of emotional distress. We must find a way to help her regain control—or at least contain her until we can."
Knox crosses his arms, his rugged face lined with irritation. "And how do you propose we do that? She's not exactly in a state to sit down and have a chat. If she goes on another rampage, we might not be able to stop her without…" He hesitates, his voice trailing off as the unspoken implication hangs in the air.
"Without hurting her," Shanks finishes with regret in his eyes. "I know."
Amel Ellington's brow furrows as his elbows rest on the table. "Where is Marya right now?" he asks insistently. "If she's as volatile as you say, we need to know her status. Is she contained? Is she safe?"
Shanks exhales slowly, his piercing eyes narrowing as he meets Amel's gaze. "Marya is on my ship," he says with an edge. "She was wounded during her rampage and lost consciousness. Hongo, my ship's doctor, is looking after her."
A wave of relief and concern moves through the room. Knox Penrose, his handlebar mustache twitching as he processes the information, leans forward. "Wounded? How bad is it?"
Shanks's darkens slightly, a flicker of gilt passing through his eyes. "It's not life-threatening," he replies. "Hongo's the best there is—she's in good hands. For now, she's stable, but…" He hesitates, his voice softening. "She's not herself. Even unconscious, her power is restless. Hongo's keeping a close eye on her, but we need to figure out how to help her before she wakes up."
Amel's brow furrows, reclining against the backrest as he processes the information. His sharp mind is already working through the implications. "If her power is tied to her emotions, then her unconscious state might be the only thing keeping it in check," he says analytically. "But when she wakes up…"
Master Gaius Vesper, with his kiseru pipe in hand, rolls it between two fingers. "Marya's always been strong-willed," he says with shaky confidence. "But even the strongest of us have our breaking points. We need to find a way to reach her—to help her regain control."
Aurélie frowns deeply, her thumb instinctively stroking Anathema's hilt. "If her power is that volatile, we can't just treat this as a simple case of emotional distress," she says, pressing her lips together. "We need to understand what triggered her rampage in the first place. Was it the battle? The stress? Or something deeper?"
Shanks shakes his head somberly. "It's hard to say. Marya's been through a lot—more than most of us realize. Her power feeds on her emotions, and if she's pushed too far…" He trails off, his voice softening as his chair squeaks. "Well, we saw what happens."
Amel leaned back in his chair, bent an elbow, and slid a folded finger over his lips, considering the situation. "Then we need to act fast. If Marya wakes up and her power takes over again, we might not be able to stop her without…" he hesitated, his voice trailing off as the assumed inference lingered in the air.
Nanette Ellington abruptly stands. Her chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and jarring in the otherwise quiet room. All eyes turn to her as she commands immediate attention.
"Wait," she says, her adamant voice cutting through the room like a blade. "There's something you're all missing. Marya's power isn't just tied to her emotions. It's far more complex than that. Her Devil Fruit isn't just a standard Paramecia or Zoan type—it's something far more dangerous. It's a Mythical Logia-type Devil Fruit: The Mist-Mist Fruit, Model: Achlys."
The room falls silent as the significance of her words sinks in. Even Master Gaius raises an eyebrow and sets down his kiseru pipe. "A Mythical Logia?"
Nanette nods, her expression unwavering. "Absolutely. Like is have told you before, the Mist-Mist Fruit, Model: Achlys, is one of the rarest and most powerful Devil Fruits in existence. It's named after Achlys, the ancient spirit of death mist and the eternal night—a being often referred to as the Queen of the Underworld or the Mistress of Death. The fruit grants its user the ability to control and transform into a deadly mist that can drain life, spread decay, and even open the veil between the living and the dead."
Shanks leans forward, his brow furrowing as his piercing eyes narrow. "A Mythical Logia… that explains the sheer destructive power we saw. But what does it mean for Marya?"
Nanette's tone sharpens as she continues. "It is written that the fruit's power is tied to the user's emotional state, but it's not just a passive ability. The mist is sentient, in a way—it's an extension of Achlys herself, a primordial force of death and decay. When the user's emotions are pushed to the brink, the mist can take over, consuming the user and turning them into a vessel for Achlys's will. That's what happened to Marya. Her pain, her fear, her anger—they amplified the mist's influence until it consumed her entirely."
Aurélie frowns deeply, folding her hands, her shoulders tense. "So Marya's rampage wasn't just her losing control—it was the mist taking over?"
"Exactly," Nanette replies, laying her palms flat on the tabletop. "But it gets worse. According to the legends, when the user fully awakens the fruit's power, the death knell tolls, and the veil between the living and the dead is torn open. The user becomes the Mistress of Death, and the price for such power is paid in living souls. Entire regions can be consumed by the mist, their inhabitants lost to the underworld."
Knox Penrose, his handlebar mustache twitching as he reflects, slams his fist on the table. "So you're telling us that if Marya fully awakens this power, she could wipe out everything in her path? And there's no way to stop it?"
Nanette's expression darkens, straightening her back as she ponders the circumstances. "Not necessarily. The fruit's power is immense, but it's not invincible. The legends also speak of ways to suppress or contain the mist, at least temporarily. Ancient rituals, artifacts, or even the intervention of someone with immense Haki could potentially weaken its influence long enough to reach Marya and help her regain control."
Master Gaius exhales a plume of smoke. "So Marya's not just fighting her own emotions—she's fighting an ancient, primordial force of death. That complicates things."
Nanette returns to her seat, her voice lowering slightly. "There's one more thing. The legends say that the mist is drawn to places of death and despair. If Marya's power is fully awakened, she'll be drawn to areas of conflict and suffering, feeding on the chaos and growing stronger with every soul she claims. We need to find a way to suppress the mist before that happens."
"Wait," Aurélie says, her voice cutting through the tension. "Before we spiral into worst-case scenarios, there's something we need to consider. I've been mentoring Marya for years, and I've seen her use her powers countless times. If her Devil Fruit had fully awakened, I would have sensed it. The sheer scale of its power would be impossible to miss."
The room falls silent again, all eyes focused on Aurélie. Shanks leans forward, stroking his jaw. "What are you saying, Aurélie?"
Aurélie crosses her arms, Anathema resting at her side as she speaks. "I'm saying that Marya's power hasn't fully awakened—not yet. What we saw during her rampage was the mist taking over, yes, but it wasn't the full manifestation of Achlys's power. If it had been, the death knell would have tolled, and the veil between the living and the dead would have been torn open. We would have felt it. The entire island would have felt it."
Nanette holds her chin with a bent elbow as she contemplates Aurélie's words. "You're suggesting that Marya's rampage was just the beginning—a precursor to the fruit's full awakening?"
Aurélie nods grimly. "Exactly. The mist was strong, but it wasn't at its full potential. Marya was still fighting it, even if she didn't realize it. That's why we were able to stop her. If her power had fully awakened, we wouldn't have stood a chance."
Master Gaius reclined in his seat, ankle resting on a knee, and exhaled a plume of smoke, "So Marya's still in there, fighting to regain control. That's good news, but it also means we're on borrowed time. If the mist grows stronger, it could push her over the edge."
Shanks leans back, shifting in his chair gravely. "Then we need to act fast. If Marya's still fighting, we have a chance to reach her before it's too late. But we'll need to be careful. The mist is dangerous, and pushing her too hard could trigger the full awakening."
Aurélie's gaze softens, eyes drifting. "Marya's strong," she says quietly. "Stronger than she knows. If anyone can fight their way back from this, it's her."
The room is tense as the group grapples with the enormity of the situation. Marya's power, tied to the Mist-Mist Fruit Model: Achlys, is a force of unimaginable destruction, and the urgency to suppress it before it fully awakens weighs heavily on everyone.
Nanette Ellington, sitting a little straighter, breaks the silence. "Suppressing the mist won't be easy," Nanette begins. "But based on the legends and historical records, there are a few methods we can explore. Each comes with its own risks, but we don't have the luxury of time to debate endlessly. We need to act now."
Vaughn, holding his chin on a bent elbow, "What about Haki? If the mist is a sentient force, could someone with strong enough Haki suppress it, even temporarily?"
Nanette gazes off, stroking her jaw as she considers the suggestion. "It's possible. Conqueror's Haki, in particular, has been known to disrupt and suppress other forms of energy. If someone with immense Conqueror's Haki were to confront Marya directly, they might be able to weaken the mist's hold on her long enough to reach her."
Shanks's jaw clenches as he ponders the idea. "I'll do it. My Conqueror's Haki is strong enough to match the mist's influence, at least for a short time."
The discussion on various methods to suppress the mist continued, with each idea weighed against the immense risks involved. The urgency was eminent, and the stakes had never been higher. Marya's struggle was a race against time, and the group was determined to exhaust every possible option to save her.
But as the debate raged on, it became clear that while they could potentially delay the mist's full awakening, a more comprehensive solution was necessary to protect not only Marya but the entire island. The room grew quiet as the seriousness of their predicament settled in. It wasn't just an internal battle; external threats loomed large as well.
Shanks, who had been listening intently, stood up, his demeanor shifting from contemplative to resolute. His voice cut through the silence, drawing everyone's attention to a new proposition that extended far beyond their immediate crisis. His single arm rests on the hilt of Gryphon, a subtle reminder of his strength and authority. The weight of his words hangs in the air as he speaks, his voice calm but carrying an edge of earnestness that makes it clear he's not making this offer lightly.
"I've been thinking," Shanks begins, his piercing eyes connecting with everyone in the room, "about what's at stake here. This island, its people, and its Guardians have faced more than their fair share of challenges. The invaders, Marya's rampage, the threat of the Mist-Mist Fruit—it's clear that you're fighting a battle on multiple fronts. And while you've held your ground admirably, I believe it's time to consider a more… permanent solution."
He pauses, letting his words resonate. The room is anxious, every eye fixed on him. Master Gaius Vesper audibly exhales a plume of smoke from his kiseru pipe, but he doesn't interrupt. Knox Penrose, his handlebar mustache twitching, leans forward, his rugged face lined with curiosity and caution.
"What are you suggesting, Shanks?" Knox strokes his beard.
Shanks meets his gaze, his expression serious. "I'm suggesting that this island comes under my protection. I'll extend my flag and claim this territory as part of my crew's domain. Under my banner, no one—pirate, marine, or otherwise—would dare attack without facing the full might of the Red-Haired Pirates."
A swell of surprise ripples through the room. Aurélie raises a brow. "That's a generous offer, Shanks. But you know what that means. If you claim this island, it becomes a target for anyone looking to challenge you. Are you prepared for that?"
Shanks smirks, a glint of confidence in his eyes. "I've faced worse. And let's be honest—this island is already a target. The invaders didn't come here because it was easy. They came because they saw something worth taking. Under my flag, they'll think twice. And if they don't… well, they'll regret it."
Nanette Ellington shifts in her seat, lips pursed as she reflects on the implications. "It's not just about protection, Shanks. If you claim this island, it becomes part of your territory. That means laws, influence, and reputation. Are you prepared to take on that responsibility?"
Shanks nods, brow wrinkled. "I am. This island and its people have shown incredible resilience. They've earned my respect. And if claiming this territory means I can help protect them, then it's a responsibility I'm willing to take on."
Master Gaius taps his pipe against the table. "It's a bold move, Shanks. But bold moves come with risks. If you claim this island, you're not just offering protection—you're tying your fate to ours. Are you sure you're ready for that?"
Shanks meets Gaius's gaze, standing unwaveringly tall. "I've never been more sure. This island is worth fighting for. And if raising my flag means I can help ensure its safety, then it's a risk I'm willing to take."
Knox suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes flash with anger and distrust. "Under a pirate banner? Are you serious? Pirates are nothing but thieves and scoundrels. They can't be trusted. We would be putting our lives and futures in the hands of those whose loyalty shifts with the tides."
The room's mood turns as all eyes dart about, but Shanks remains silent, his gaze steady on Knox.
Knox paces, his agitation clear. "We've fought hard to keep this island safe. We can't just hand it over to a pirate, no matter how noble his intentions might seem. What guarantees do we have that he won't turn his back on us when it suits him?"
Aurélie, giving him the side eye, "Knox, I understand your concerns. But we have to consider the bigger picture. The invaders are relentless, and our resources are stretched thin. Shanks's offer could be a lifeline we need."
Knox stops pacing and turns to face Shanks with fisted hands at his side in aggravated resignation. "And what happens when his enemies come looking for him? Are we supposed to fight his battles too?"
Shanks, back straight, holds his gaze firm. "I understand your concerns, Knox. Trust is earned, not given. I don't expect you to trust me blindly. But know this: under my banner, this island will have the protection it needs to thrive. And as for my enemies, they'll think twice before bringing their fight here."
Knox's shoulders slump slightly, the fire in his eyes dimming. He looks around the room, seeing the answers that have already been made on the faces of his comrades. Finally, he takes a deep breath and nods reluctantly. "Alright, Shanks. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But know this: if you betray us, you'll have more than just enemies to deal with."
Shanks nods curtly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
Nanette Ellington leans against the backrest, her face shadowed with concern, her chin resting on a bent elbow. Memories of Ohara, the island that the Marines obliterated for its pursuit of forbidden history, weigh heavily on her mind. She takes a deep breath. "Shanks, I don't need to remind you of Ohara's fate. Their thirst for knowledge led to their demise. This island has its secrets, too, and should it ever be discovered by the World Government, it would be deemed too dangerous to exist."
Shanks's expression hardens, understanding the magnitude of her words. "I know, Nanette. That's why I'm here. With the Red-Haired Pirates as allies, we can deter those who would seek to destroy this place out of fear or ambition."
Amel Ellington, the mayor, rises from his seat, his eyes reflecting the weight of the decision before him. His presence commands respect, a testament to the countless challenges he has navigated as the leader of this resilient island. He clears his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
"Shanks," Amel begins with a steady resolution, "Your offer is not just a promise of protection; it's a beacon of hope for our future. This island, our home, has endured much, and its people deserve the chance to live without fear of invasion or destruction. By accepting your flag, we are not just securing our safety but also embracing a partnership built on mutual respect and shared purpose."
He pauses, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his comrades, seeing the mixture of hope and apprehension mirrored in their eyes. "We are aware of the risks, and we do not take this decision lightly. But we believe in the strength and honor of the Red-Haired Pirates, and we trust in your commitment to our cause."
Shanks nods solemnly. "Thank you, Amel. Your trust means everything to me, and I vow to stand by you and your people, come what may."
As Amel returns to his seat, a sense of unity and determination fills the room. The decision has been made, and with it comes a renewed sense of purpose.
Master Gaius exhales a plume of smoke, holding his pipe, "Then it's settled. We'll accept Shanks's offer—on one condition."
Shanks raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what's that?"
Gaius's eyes twinkle with mischief, his playful demeanor returning. "You have to promise to visit more often. This place could use a little more excitement."
The room erupts in laughter, the tension breaking as the group finally relaxes. Shanks chuckles, "You've got yourself a deal, Gaius."