At the same time, deep within the heart of the underworld's city, a grand fortress stood tall beneath the veil of smoke and neon light.
Inside the central hall, Capone Bege sat high upon his ornate seat, a straight-striped suit clinging to his broad frame, a cigar burning lazily between his lips. That chair was known to all as the "Godfather's Throne."
Flanking the long table before him were his most trusted lieutenants men who ruled each district of the city like wolves guarding their own territories.
For now, Capone Bege was not yet the undisputed ruler of the West Sea's underworld. His criminal empire stretched outward from this city like a spider's web, touching more than a dozen towns. His network boasted over ten thousand men. Alongside two rival crime syndicates, they formed what the underworld called the Triad of the West Sea.
But for Capone Bege, power was never enough. His ambition burned far brighter. For years, a single thought consumed him to crush the other two families and unite the West Sea under his iron rule.
Tonight, he had gathered his men to declare that dream aloud.
He stared down the long table, his sharp gaze like the edge of a blade. "The underworld of the West Sea has been divided long enough," he said in a gravelly voice that carried both authority and menace. "As of today, I, Capone Bege, declare war on those two old fools, Jock and Tuttle."
The room fell into stunned silence. Several lieutenants exchanged anxious glances before one finally stood, his hat trembling in his hands.
"Boss, with respect," he said cautiously, "I think this isn't the right time. We're not strong enough to take them head-on yet "
A gunshot cracked the air like thunder.
The man froze, eyes wide, as a bullet punched through his forehead. He collapsed instantly, blood splattering across the suits of those beside him.
A thin wisp of smoke curled from the barrel of Bege's flintlock pistol. He didn't flinch. "Anyone else have objections?" he asked coldly, the words curling around his cigar smoke.
No one spoke. Every head shook in terrified unison.
Bege's lips stretched into a cruel grin. "Good." He laughed, a booming sound that filled the hall. Then, gesturing to two nearby men, he said, "Throw his body into the sea. Let the sharks feast."
"Yes, Godfather!" the men stammered, dragging away the corpse.
The gun clattered heavily against the table as Bege set it down. His eyes glinted with feral confidence. "Once I sit upon the throne as the true king of the West Sea's underworld," he promised, "each of you will be richly rewarded."
A wave of relieved, eager smiles rippled across the table.
But before any of them could reply, a teasing voice echoed from above.
"Little Robin, looks like we came at a bad time."
Bege's expression stiffened. He looked up sharply toward the balcony, where two figures stood silhouetted against the moonlight one tall, one small. The taller man wore a simple mask, and beside him stood a young girl with bright, intelligent eyes.
Bege's brow furrowed. "You're... the ones the Navy's been hunting the so-called Emperor of Shadows and the Devil's Child?"
The masked man chuckled softly. "Bingo. Congratulations you got it right. Unfortunately, there's no prize."
That mocking tone made Bege's jaw tighten. He was the Godfather of the West Sea, a man feared by thousands. Even if his guest was worth five hundred million in bounty, he would never kneel.
"Kill them!" Bege roared.
In an instant, the lieutenants drew their guns.
The room erupted in chaos.
Gunfire thundered through the hall as countless bullets tore through the air toward the two intruders.
"Earth Wall."
The masked man Liam Ross spoke softly.
With a deep rumble, the marble floor split open, and a towering wall of earth rose up before him, blocking every bullet with effortless precision.
Bege's pupils narrowed. "A Devil Fruit user… no wonder you're worth so much."
His lips curled into a cold smirk. He had heard of such powers but never seen one up close. Still, arrogance clouded his judgment.
"Let's see how you handle this," Bege muttered darkly. "Castle Cannon Barrage!"
His body shifted grotesquely, opening countless hatches across his torso. From each emerged the mouth of a cannon or the barrel of a gun. The next moment, the entire hall trembled as fire and smoke filled the air.
Explosions roared.
Walls cracked.
Flames swallowed everything.
For five long minutes, the relentless barrage continued until the entire castle shook on its foundations.
When the smoke finally began to clear, Bege grinned smugly, lighting another cigar. "That's what happens when you mess with the Godfather."
But then
A voice, cold and calm, sliced through the haze. "Is that all your so-called power amounts to, Capone Bege?"
Bege froze.
Two silhouettes emerged from the smoke, completely unharmed. Not even their clothes were scorched.
"What… how is that possible?" Bege stammered, disbelief twisting his face.
Liam stepped forward, his tone laced with disdain. "You talk about ruling the West Sea, yet this is all you can do? Pathetic."
Bege clenched his teeth, fury replacing fear. But before he could react, Liam vanished.
No, not vanished he moved faster than the eye could see.
"Ahhh—!"
Bege's scream tore through the air as Liam reappeared, slamming his fist coated in armament haki straight into the mob boss's chest. Bege flew backward like a cannonball, smashing through the wall and collapsing in a heap of rubble.
Coughing blood, Bege stared up at the approaching figure, his eyes wide with terror. "What… what do you want from me?"
Beneath the mask, Liam's mouth curved into a faint smile.
"From this moment on," he said, his voice steady, almost gentle, "you work for me. When you're strong enough to defeat me, you'll have your freedom back."
The flickering light from the burning hall danced across Liam's mask, casting his shadow over the trembling crime lord a silent symbol of the new order rising in the West Sea.