I the King of bandits of the East Sea

Three children sat on a hill, reading the latest news about Sig.

Ace's mind began to replay the scene from that night. He crouched on a tree branch, asking Sig those few questions.

Strictly speaking, he had only met Sig once.

However, Sig was the first person Ace had encountered—apart from Garp—who had a connection to Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King. Ace's impression of him was not shallow.

"That mountain bandit, Sig, also went out to seek freedom? And as soon as he set sail, he attacked a World Noble…"

"When I set sail, I'll make even bigger waves than Sig. In the end, I'll surpass the Pirate King! By then, Sabo, will you join my crew?"

As Ace spoke, he realized no one responded.

Turning his head, he saw Sabo had walked alone to the edge of the hill, gazing far into the distance at the ruined Gray Terminal, now reduced to ashes.

The slum town was now nothing more than broken ruins. The once sprawling garbage mountains had been burned to cinders, and the air still carried faint traces of a foul odor.

Farther away, the royal castle of the Goa Kingdom was faintly visible. Its towering walls still stood, though parts had been slightly blackened by the great fire that day.

The castle gates slowly opened.

A fleet of garbage trucks rolled out, once again dumping fresh waste carelessly outside, forming small piles of trash anew.

In the distance, a small group of scavengers rushed over, beginning to dig through the trash, scrambling for whatever they could find.

Everything seemed to have returned to square one.

Even the towering flames couldn't destroy this endless cycle.

Sabo didn't feel particularly sorrowful; instead, he clenched the newspaper in his hand.

The secret of the Goa Kingdom burning the Gray Terminal? Sabo had known about it before it happened but had been powerless to stop or change it.

Though the man hadn't prevented the fire, he had nearly saved the entire population of the Gray Terminal.

"What the paper says must be true. Sig, on the surface a mountain bandit, is actually with the Revolutionary Army. That's why he dared to attack a Celestial Dragon."

Sabo muttered to himself.

"Sabo, what are you looking at?" Ace approached, asking.

"Ace, I've decided. I don't want to be a pirate anymore," Sabo said resolutely.

"Why not?"

"Being a pirate has its limits. Pirates only pursue personal freedom!"

"I want to join the Revolutionary Army, like Sig, and fight for freedom across the entire world!"

In a section of the Grand Line…

The pirate ship Red Force, flying a Jolly Roger with crossed sabers beneath a skull, sailed onward. Aboard the ship, the Red-Haired Pirates were hosting a feast, as usual.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

"Mr. Sig has finally set sail. The seas are bound to be stirred up now!"

"Who would've thought he's connected to the Revolutionary Army, and that his first move at sea would be attacking a Celestial Dragon?"

First mate Benn Beckman chuckled as he recalled his encounter with Sig back in the East Blue. He said softly:

"I suspected as much. A man this active in the shadows couldn't possibly stay unknown on some remote island forever."

"Beckman, do you really believe Mr. Sig defeated… what was it, sixteen pirate captains on the level of the Four Emperors?"

Lucky Roux, wearing his green-striped shirt, mumbled as he bit into a massive chunk of meat.

Beckman smiled faintly:

"Half-truths are more convincing than outright lies."

"If there really were sixteen pirates on the level of the Four Emperors, they could've toppled the Navy entirely!"

"Mr. Sig must be exaggerating while drunk. The real number is definitely lower. He's deliberately obscuring his achievements, making it hard for us to separate fact from fiction."

"Hic." Nearby, Shanks let out a drunken hiccup, laughing as he said:

"Who knows? Maybe there really are sixteen Four Emperors out there, and the Navy has secretly been hiding sixteen Admirals to keep things balanced."

Shanks' joke sent the crew into uproarious laughter, with drinks flowing and cheers filling the air.

Moments later, however, Shanks' expression turned suddenly serious.

Still holding his cup, he walked to the ship's railing and looked out over the sea.

At some point, a small boat had appeared on the horizon.

The vessel, shaped like a coffin with lit candles on its sides, carried a single imposing man.

The man wore a wine-red floral shirt beneath a black coat, paired with breeches and short boots. A black hat rested on his head. Alone, he sat on the small sailboat.

Despite the size of the vessel, the man's presence was regal, as though he were a king seated on his throne.

Seeing Shanks gazing at him, the man raised his hand slightly, tipping his hat to reveal a pair of golden eyes with concentric rings.

His sharp, hawk-like gaze cut across the vast ocean, meeting Shanks' eyes.

He was the world's greatest swordsman, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and the man who sat atop the throne of swordsmanship worldwide.

Dracule Mihawk, Hawk-Eye!

"What a rare guest, Hawk-Eye. Are you here to challenge me to a duel?"

Shanks, holding his cup, called out to Dracule Mihawk from a distance.

"A duel?"

Hawk-Eye scoffed coldly, his sharp gaze falling on Shanks' still-intact arms as he replied indifferently:

"I've no intention of dueling someone who… gave up his straw hat."

Huh… Straw hat? Why did I say that?

Mihawk's expression momentarily froze. When he regained his senses, he found himself already seated aboard Shanks' ship, with the red-haired pirate draping an arm over his shoulder and pouring him a drink.

"Since it's not a duel, then that's easy! Let's have a feast instead!"

"What a carefree man. You spent so long in that backwater East Blue, and even gave up your signature straw hat."

"You've grown too lazy. If you want to drink, do it after we duel!"

Mihawk pushed away the cup Shanks was about to press to his face and reached for the massive sword strapped to his back.

The movement made the drunken Shanks squint slightly, a thought forming in his mind as he chuckled:

"You can't say that. The East Blue may be small, but there are still some true powerhouses there."

"Hawk-Eye, we've dueled more times than I can count. It's no longer interesting. If you drink with me this time, I'll introduce you to a real powerhouse!"

"Oh?"

Hawk-Eye glanced at Shanks, pausing mid-motion.

"This powerhouse you're talking about—are they a swordsman?"

Shanks blinked, recalling his first encounter with Sig.

Sig's waist did seem to carry a sword!

Yes, he must be a swordsman! Although I never saw him fight, he's definitely strong enough to give Hawk-Eye a worthy challenge.

Even if he's not… he will be!

"Hawk-Eye, let me tell you, he's an absolute monster!"

"Someone like me, just a mere Yonko? He's already cut down sixteen of us!"

Shanks pulled Mihawk into drinking with him, the liquor gradually getting the better of them both.