The Flower Capital.
The streets were bustling with activity, filled with the scent of street food and the shouts of peddlers. Compared to the poor towns elsewhere, it was like a different world entirely.
Rogan walked alone down the center of the street, dressed in rugged Viking garb that clashed sharply with his surroundings.
Without a single word, people stepped aside the moment they saw him, avoiding eye contact entirely.
Fear, disgust, hatred…
Rogan could clearly sense all sorts of negative emotions from the townsfolk. He was well aware of how unwelcome he was.
After all, to the people of this land, the Beasts Pirates were the embodiment of disaster. Even if they didn't dare to speak out, their hearts were full of loathing.
But what Rogan was thinking about was something entirely different.
"Will I be able to rent out my house?"
The people hated the Beasts Pirates so much—who would dare rent a house owned by one?
This was a serious issue. He had to take it seriously.
Soon, Rogan arrived at the outskirts of the Flower Capital. Compared to the busy city center, this area was much quieter.
"Gurururu~~"
A convoy transporting household garbage passed by Rogan.
"Ugh, it stinks! Hurry up!"
"Dump all this trash in Scrapper Town."
"Those broke bastards love eating garbage!"
Amid their curses, the convoy left the Flower Capital and headed several kilometers south to a place called Fortunegod Town.
Despite the name, it was just a rundown village surviving off the scraps of the capital—filled with the elderly, women, and children.
Rogan watched the convoy go and glanced in the direction of the town, where he could barely make out its outline.
Suddenly, a new idea sparked in his mind.
"First, back to business."
Rogan shook his head and walked up to a warehouse.
An old man with a beaming smile was already waiting for him. Upon seeing Rogan, he ran up eagerly.
"Rogan-sama! You've finally arrived!"
"Mr. Binpuku."
Rogan nodded.
They had met a month prior. The old man was a well-known landlord in the Flower Capital, owning a large number of properties—this warehouse being one of them.
For some reason lately, the old man had begun selling off his properties. Rumor had it that it had something to do with the famous courtesan, Komurasaki.
Rogan took out the prepared money.
The reward for capturing Yamato was 500 gold—equal to 5 million Berries. 30% of it went to Uruti, and another 50 gold was distributed to the fan club guys.
That left 300 gold—exactly the amount he and Binpuku had agreed upon.
"Here's 300 gold."
"Ah, Rogan-sama, you are truly a generous man!"
Binpuku beamed, pulling out a deed from his robe. After verifying the documents, the transaction was quickly completed.
With the money in hand, Binpuku smiled even brighter and eagerly took his leave.
"Well then, Rogan-sama, I'll take my leave now."
"Mm."
Rogan nodded slightly, eyes squinting strangely.
That dirty old man… don't tell me he fell for some courtesan scam.
That oiran girl…
Tch, she'll bleed him dry.
Rogan stepped into the warehouse. Looking at the spacious interior, his shoulders shook as he burst into laughter.
"Bwahahaha!!"
After nearly three months of grinding, he was finally a property owner again. Sure, it was just a warehouse in the outskirts, but it was only the beginning.
This is the first step to wealth!
"And this feeling!"
Rogan clenched his fists, eyes shining with joy.
It was Haki!
He had awakened Busoshoku Haki (Armament Haki)!
So that's it—he finally understood his path to Haki!
Owning property gave him a sense of security—and that security became the foundation of his confidence. That inner confidence had transformed into Haki!
If expressed as a formula—
Property = Confidence = Haki!
Wait… if that's true, then doesn't it mean the more property he buys, the stronger his Haki becomes?
This is paradise!
"Perfect time to test it out."
Rogan's eyes turned cold as he roared:
"Come out, all of you!"
…
After a brief silence, seven or eight ragged figures emerged from the warehouse entrances, surrounding Rogan.
Ronin samurai.
Rogan looked at them coldly.
He hadn't awakened Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki) yet, but he'd already sensed they were tailing him. Even the baby Groudon in his body had felt the danger and warned him several times.
"This all you trash got?"
"Don't underestimate us!"
The samurai were enraged and drew their blades.
"Lackey of Kaidou—today is your death day!"
"You lot are barely better than stray dogs."
Rogan sneered.
A bunch of sewer rats with no guts to attack Onigashima directly, picking off stragglers instead. Pathetic.
Then again, after Oden's death, this country's backbone had been shattered. There were no true samurai left.
His mocking words drove three young samurai into a rage. They charged in recklessly.
"Bastard—DIE!!"
"Outta my way!"
Rogan grabbed his giant door-like greatsword and swung hard, the nearly two-meter blade blasting the three attackers into the air—blades and bodies alike.
"AAAAAARGH!!"
Screams and blood filled the air.
Four remained.
The rest looked horrified.
"Don't go head-to-head with him!"
Just by looking at Rogan's build and weapon, they could tell he was a power-type. Fighting him head-on would be suicide.
"All at once!"
The leader held his blade in both hands, covering it in a thin layer of Ryūō (the Wano term for Haki), and leapt at Rogan from the front.
CLANG!
His blade was blocked!
Rogan had raised his massive sword to guard. He felt the special aura wrapping around the opponent's blade and understood.
Haki.
In Wano's terms, Ryūō.
Unfortunately, it was too weak.
These samurai were on the run, struggling to eat and sleep properly—there was no way they could maintain strong bodies.
Even so, anyone who could still use Haki among the remnants of the Kozuki was already considered elite.
"We're here too!"
While their leader kept Rogan busy, two more attacked from the flanks, aiming for his waist.
Rogan smirked. He stomped the ground—and two walls of stone shot up from either side, blocking both attacks.
CLANG!
Their blades struck the rock, sparks flying.
But there was one more!
The last samurai had crept behind Rogan. He leapt silently, aiming a deadly strike at Rogan's neck.
This four-man tactic—front distraction, flank attacks, and a surprise decapitation—had taken down many strong foes.
"Got him!"
Just as the blade landed, the samurai's eyes gleamed with triumph—only for his joy to shatter.
CRACK!
His blade snapped in half!
Ryūō!
Rogan had cloaked the back of his neck with Haki!
"This is your best?"
Rogan said coldly.
His muscles swelled, veins bulging like snakes beneath his skin.
The ground began to tremble violently!
The samurai's eyes filled with terror.
"RUN!"
They tried—but it was too late.
BOOM!!!
The entire warehouse exploded into rubble, dust and debris sweeping out like a storm.
No one knew how much time had passed.
When the dust settled, the area looked like it had suffered an earthquake. Cracks split the ground, stones lay everywhere, and samurai corpses were buried beneath the rubble.
At the center of the ruin stood Rogan, one foot on the barely-alive leader, eyes staring toward the inner city.
"The cleanup crew's here."
A crowd was approaching.
The explosion was too loud for the capital to ignore. The question was—who would arrive first? Orochi's Mimawarigumi, or the Kyoshiro Family?
"…Huh?"
A distinctive pompadour haircut came into view.
It was Sleeping Kyoshiro!
Rogan grinned with interest.
"Well, well… look who's here."
(End of Chapter)
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