Chapter 4: A Ghost, a Hero, and a Revolutionary
It took three agonizing days to reach the island. Three days of sailing with my heart in my throat, my Stamina: 15 barely enough to manage the sails and helm.
And three nights of cowering in the cabin, my Night Form leaving me a shivering, paranoid wreck, starting at every creak of the hull.
The Sun Sun Fruit was a cruel blessing. It gave me the power to defy the gods, but it also ensured I would remember what it felt like to be a terrified mortal, every single night.
The island, "Whisperwind Isle" according to the caravel's charts, was a chaotic, wind-swept place. It was a typical Grand Line "starter" island: a nest of third-rate pirates, bounty hunters, and shady merchants, all trying to make a living in the shadow of the Red Line.
I docked my damaged caravel at the most run-down pier I could find, hiding it between two larger pirate vessels.
With 500,000 Berries in a satchel, my face hidden under a deep hood, I ventured into the grimy town.
The air smelled of salt, cheap rum, and unwashed bodies.
My first stop was a shipwright. The caravel was leaking and slow.
"She's a wreck, kid," the shipwright, a one-eyed woman with a cigar, grunted after I slipped her 100,000 Berries to look at it.
"Marine vessel, too. You're either brave or stupid. For 200,000, I can patch her up well enough to get you to the next island. But she won't survive another major storm."
"Just make her seaworthy," I said, handing over the cash. "And fast."
My next stops were for supplies: barrels of fresh water, crates of preserved food, a new Log Pose, and, most importantly, civilian clothes.
I burned my Marine Trainee uniform in a back-alley trash fire, feeling a dark satisfaction as the "Justice" on the back crumpled into ash.
My last stop was a tavern, not for a drink, but for information. I sat in the darkest corner, nursing a simple water, and listened. But the pirates weren't talking about local bounties. They were all talking about it.
"Can you believe it, man? God Valley... just gone!"
"Heard it was the Rocks Pirates! Went to war with the Marines and took the whole island with 'em!"
"Nah, nah, I heard Garp the Hero did it! Sunk the island with one punch!"
The News Coo arrived right on cue, dropping a stack of papers on the bar. I bought one and retreated to my dark corner. My hands were shaking.
The headline was explosive.
GOD VALLEY OBLITERATED!
ROCKS PIRATES ANNIHILATED! VICE-ADMIRAL GARP DECLARED "THE HERO OF THE MARINES"!
I tore through the article. It was a masterpiece of propaganda.
The World Government's official story was that the Rocks Pirates, in a desperate, chaotic final battle, had triggered an ancient weapon or a buster call-level explosion that had destroyed the island and their own fleet. Vice-Admiral Garp, who was "on the scene" with the Roger Pirates, had managed to defeat Rocks D. Xebec and save hundreds of Marines before the island's destruction.
There was no mention of a "Native Hunting Competition." No mention of Celestial Dragons being present, let alone killed. No mention of Figarland Garling, the Holy Knights, or the nightmarish, spider-legged thing that had appeared.
It was all a lie. A clean, perfect lie that painted my father as the ultimate hero.
I scanned the casualty lists, my heart hammering. Then I saw it, buried in a small column on page three, under "Noteworthy Losses."
"...The sons of Vice-Admiral Garp, Seaman
Monkey D. Dragon and Trainee Monkey D. Luthor, who were bravely serving on an escort mission, are listed as Missing In Action, Presumed Deceased. A tragic loss for the Hero who saved the world..."
Missing , Presumed Deceased.
The world thought I was dead. A part of me was relieved. A ghost has no enemies. But the blue screen in my mind flashed with my active quest:
[Get Wanted].
A ghost also has no bounty. I was in a strange limbo.
But... Dragon. "MIA(missing in action)." Just like me.
A desperate, painful hope flared in my chest. He was alive. I knew it. He had to be. He was too smart, too strong, too stubborn to die there. He had those babies. He was alive. Somewhere.
__________________________
Meanwhile, at Marine Headquarters, Marineford...
Sengoku placed a cup of tea on the desk in front of his friend. Garp's office was a wreck. His "Hero of the Marines" medal lay in a trash bin, snapped in two.
"It's a lie, Sengoku. You know it, and I know it," Garp's voice was a low growl, stripped of all its usual laughter.
"It's the story the world needs, Garp," Sengoku said, his face etched with worry.
"A victory. Order. Not... that."
"They're painting me as a hero for surviving an encounter with a devil,"
Garp snarled, referring to Imu. "And they're lying about my sons."
"They are listed as Must Killed list, Garp. There's still hope—"
"Hope?" Garp slammed his fist on his new desk, obliterating it into a pile of splinters.
"I got this an hour ago. For my eyes only."
He slid a small, black-bordered parchment across the remains of the desk. It wasn't a standard Marine report. It was from Pangea Castle. From the Holy Knights.
Sengoku read it ...as read his blood ran cold and instant.
Vice Admiral Garp—Your youngest son, Trainee Monkey D. Luthor, committed the highest treason, murdering Saint Charlos in cold blood. He was judged and executed on-site by my own hand.
His name will be stricken. Be grateful his treason is not made public, for your family's sake.
—Supreme Commander Figarland Garling"
"Executed..." Sengoku whispered, horrified.
"Garling... executed my 15-year-old son," Garp said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"Luthor is dead. And Dragon... Dragon saw it all. The hunt. The nobles. The lie. He's not MIA, Sengoku. He's gone....He will never come back to the Marines. Not after this."
Garp stood up and looked out the window, his back to his friend.
He didn't know that his eldest son, Dragon, was at that very moment landing a small, battered boat on the shores of a quiet East Blue island, handing two sleeping infants to a man with a samurai's topknot.
"I failed them," Garp whispered, a tear of pure, unadulterated rage cutting a path down his cheek.
"I failed them both. I wasn't there when they needed me. It will not happen again. Do you hear me, Sengoku? It will never happen again."
_______________________________________
Back on Whisperwind Island
I folded the newspaper, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions. My father thought I was dead. Executed. Dragon was who-knows-where, but I had to believe he was alive.
The world had erased me. This was both a shield and a cage. How could I complete my quest and unlock the Shop if I was a ghost?
I walked out of the tavern, the midday sun high in the sky. My power surged, the Escanor persona bleeding into my thoughts. The fear of the night faded, replaced by a cold, burning pride.
A ghost? No. They didn't get to erase me.
I looked down the street. A group of pirates—the local "big shots"—were harassing a shopkeeper. Their captain, a fat, ugly man with a 10 million Berry bounty poster tacked to the wall behind him, laughed as his men stole food.
[New Quest Branch Detected: The World Must Know]
Task: You are MIA, Presumed Dead. Prove the world's propaganda wrong. Perform an act so undeniable that the Marines must issue a bounty for Monkey D. Luthor.
Hint: Defeating a known bounty-head may not be enough. An attack on a World Government facility is a guaranteed way to get a name.
A slow, predatory smile touched my lips. The local Marine base was a small, two-story building at the end of the street.
The world thought I was a dead, traitorous boy.
Fine.
I would re-introduce myself as a living, breathing monster.