"Clang!"
The harsh crash of metal rang out in Kyle's ears, sharp enough to make his eardrums ache.
The longsword, gleaming with cold light, had been blocked by a hard strike—it was only inches from his face.
Kyle forced open his eyes, now blurry from blood loss and exhaustion. What he saw first was the back of a young man wearing a straw hat.
The familiar style and color of the hat, along with the profile of the stranger, made a name flash through his mind.
"A… Ace?" Kyle's voice was dry and hoarse, thick with disbelief.
The young man in the straw hat didn't respond. Instead, he gave a subtle flick of the wrist—and a massive force surged through the weapon in his grip.
The Black Shark swordsman staggered as the power hit him. His palm snapped with a sickening crack, and the sword flew from his hand, clattering to the ground with a metallic 'clang.' He stumbled backward, horror etched across his face.
"Hey, you okay?" The man in the straw hat turned around and grinned, flashing a row of clean white teeth.
In the sunlight, his sharp, youthful face radiated confidence and vitality. His eyes were piercing, eagle-like, as if they could see straight through Kyle.
That smile… those eyes…
Kyle's pupils shrank sharply. Wait a second—Well, forgive me! I didn't recognize you at first!
No… that's not Ace. That's Ace's… father!
Gol D. Roger. The Pirate King—in his prime.
A quiet, invisible pressure radiated from Roger. Though unintentional, it sent shivers down the spines of the surrounding pirates. It felt as if a prehistoric beast had locked its eyes on them. Terrified, several of them instinctively took a step back.
"Who the hell are you?!" The Black Shark captain roared. The anchor in his hand trembled with tension. He could tell this straw-hatted youth wasn't someone ordinary.
But Roger ignored him.
His gaze was fixed instead on Kyle—ragged and bloodstained—and the devastated battlefield around them.
"Now this is something," he said with a chuckle. "You took out all these pirates alone? Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
Suddenly, the sound of boots thudding rapidly against the ground came from the outskirts of the port.
"The Marine! The Marines' here!"
"It's the G-Branch Marines—run!"
The few remaining pirates shouted in panic. The crumbling formation quickly fell into chaos.
Marine soldiers in uniform surged in from every direction, rifles raised and aimed squarely at the war-torn port center.
The officers at the front bore Lieutenant Commander insignias and steely expressions—clearly elite forces from the G Branch stationed in Doug Town.
"All pirates! Drop your weapons and surrender immediately!" one of the Lieutenant Commanders bellowed. "Or we will show no mercy!"
His voice echoed through the port like thunder. The already tense atmosphere tightened. A vicious light gleamed in the Black Shark captain's eyes. He now knew—escape was no longer an option.
"Brothers! Kill them first—then fight your way out!" He roared, swinging his massive anchor in a wide arc straight at Roger and Kyle. The remaining pirates followed suit, charging forward in a desperate frenzy.
"Come on, hahaha!" Roger laughed, wild and free. Even with a giant anchor barreling toward him and Marines closing in from every side, he looked utterly unfazed.
The weapon in his hand wasn't a famed blade—just an ordinary sword. But in his grasp, it radiated a terrifying force.
"Swish!" The sword moved so fast it was almost invisible.
The instant the heavy anchor touched the blade, it was sliced clean in two, split like decayed wood. The severed edge gleamed, smooth as a mirror.
Then, Roger's figure darted through the crowd like a ghost. Each swing of his sword carried a wave of overwhelming, domineering power.
The pirates and Marine soldiers rushing in couldn't even see his movements clearly before being struck down by sharp bursts of sword energy. Blood splattered across the battlefield.
His swordsmanship was vigorous, appearing simple and straightforward, yet infused with a rhythm and power that was impossible to describe. Every slash seemed capable of splitting mountains and shattering stone.
As the adrenaline rush faded like a retreating tide, endless fatigue surged in to take its place. Kyle leaned weakly against the wall, enduring the sharp pain from the wound beneath his ribs and the draining weakness of his body. His eyes stayed locked on Roger's battle.
Is this... the future Pirate King? So strong.
The calm dominance in Roger's movements and his absolute mastery over power was a level Kyle had never even imagined before.
Compared to Roger, his earlier fights with those low-tier pirates felt like nothing more than child's play.
Every swing of Roger's blade, every evasive step, engraved itself deeply into Kyle's mind.
"Is this… Haki?" Kyle murmured to himself.
He couldn't quite explain it, but he could clearly sense that Roger's strikes carried something beyond physical strength, an invisible force that suppressed and overwhelmed.
The continuous fighting, blood loss, and prolonged hunger finally pushed Kyle's body past its limit.
A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and his vision spun and blurred. The sounds of clashing steel, Roger's laughter, the Marines' shouts, and pirates' screams faded into the distance, growing more and more unreal.
"Damn it… my body… it won't move…" Kyle gritted his teeth, trying to stay conscious, but his eyelids were getting heavier by the second.
Just as the Marine soldiers regrouped and began compressing Roger's movement space, trying to close in for a surround, a golden figure suddenly streaked into the battlefield—like lightning tearing through the night!
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
The crisp sounds of swords clashing rang out one after another, mingled with the anguished screams of Marine soldiers.
The golden figure moved with the speed of flowing light. His western-style sword traced arcs of dazzling golden light, each swing gracefully and precisely ending an enemy's life.
His swordsmanship was different from Roger's overwhelming might—faster, more elegant, more refined—but no less lethal.
"Rayleigh!" Roger laughed heartily when he saw the arrival, and his attacks grew even fiercer.
The newcomer was the young 'Dark King,' Silvers Rayleigh! With medium-length golden hair and small, round glasses, he wore a calm expression, though a sharp glint flickered in his eyes.
Rayliegh's arrival instantly shifted the battlefield. He and Roger, one attacking from the left and the other from the right, were like twin blades of judgment, slicing effortlessly through the Marines' encirclement.
"Really, Roger, you just can't help making a scene every time." Rayleigh blocked a Lieutenant Commander's strike with ease, still relaxed enough to tease his companion.
"Kuhahaha! Just passing through!" Roger replied without missing a beat, sweeping away a group of pirates with a casual backhand slash.
Kyle's consciousness hovered between clarity and darkness. He vaguely saw Rayliegh's silhouette, and the last trace of strength drained from his heart.
Young Roger… Rayleigh
This is fifty or sixty years before the main storyline!
The remaining Black Shark Pirates, now gripped by fear, began to break apart. Some were effortlessly dispatched by Roger and Rayliegh, while others dropped their weapons and fled in all directions.
Though the G-Branch Marines were well-trained, they couldn't match the chaos and pressure brought by two future legends of the sea. Their formation crumbled as casualties mounted.
Roger and Rayleigh stood at opposite ends, protecting the near-unconscious Kyle in the middle, back to back, facing enemies from every direction.
The setting sun stretched its shadows long across the blood-soaked port, which now reeked of smoke and iron.
This was a chaotic skirmish, yes—but also the beginning of a legend.
And in this quiet port of Doug Town, far from the world's eyes, the curtain rose on the era of the Pirate King, begun by the arrival of a soul accidentally cast through time and space.
Kyle's eyes finally closed.
His last conscious thoughts lingered on Roger's unrestrained laughter and the radiant edge of Rayleigh's sword as it flashed in the fading light.