Sa Marines,
Yet Doll chose to believe in Orin, while Sengoku and Garp remained neutral—and there were still others who outright denied everything.
Crack, crack, crack—
Frost spread from the office, creeping all the way up the corridor. Countless Marine soldiers shouted in shock and hurriedly retreated.
Inside the office, a man wearing a Marine coat and an eyepatch across his forehead sat surrounded by an aura of frost, his expression dark and heavy.
He stared at the newspaper before him, at the casual figure sitting in the photo.
As expected...
The thing he feared most had finally happened.
With the loss of the title of "Emperor," Orin—who had once imposed order on the seas rather than chaos—was now showing signs of losing control!!!
He had worried about this long ago. Orin was a man even more terrifying and unpredictable than the Ancient Weapons.
Back then, Orin acted with so sense of restraint, maintaining a degree of order on the seas and following certain rules.
But if he ever decided he was done playing along—if he ever chose to overturn the table—it would spell disaster for the entire world.
And now, that trend was already erging.
No matter how you looked at it, wiping out the entire nation of Ellegia...
Wasn’t that a bit too extre!!!
...
Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Inside the Room of Authority.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, and the Holy Land was shrouded in a raging storm. The chamber of the Elders was pitch-black, illuminated only when lightning flashed across the sky—montarily revealing their grim faces.
"Where is Red-Hair now?"
"He’s mixed up with Orin. Is it purely out of old friendship... or is there so greater sche behind it?"
Saint Marcus Mars spoke with suspicion, his tone laced with conspiracy.
"His whereabouts are unknown," said Saint Shepherd Ju Peter. "But since Orin has gradually retreated from the seas, he probably has no intention of stirring up trouble anymore. And besides, Red-Hair is of the Figarland family..."
"A man like Red-Hair is troubleso enough already," Saint Topman Warcury muttered. "If he gains Orin’s support as well..."
As his colleagues exchanged concerns, Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro gripped his staff tightly, his brows furrowed.
"Another fine ss Roger left behind..."
...
"Are you sure this is okay?"
On the open sea, the Red Force sailed steadily across the waves. Shanks walked over to where Orin stood, the wind tossing his crimson hair as he joined him at the railing.
"Your na’s spreading fast," Shanks said. "Even if people don’t dare discuss you openly, they’re definitely thinking about it."
Orin turned his head and gave a careless smirk.
"It’s fine. A man who worries too much about others’ opinions can never be the freest pirate."
The reason Orin refused to be an "Emperor" was simple—he was tired of the world’s gaze. People always had ideas about what a man like him should or shouldn’t do.
Fa and profit ant nothing to him. At his level, they were like raindrops in the ocean.
Have you ever seen a billionaire fuss over a few loose coins?
"The freest pirate, huh?"
Shanks repeated softly, thoughtful. He couldn’t help but notice how Orin’s words echoed Roger’s beliefs in a strange way.
A wave of nostalgia and reflection filled him.
It wasn’t just Buggy who once said Captain Roger should’ve passed everything down to Orin. Even Shanks himself had wondered, more than once—
Would things have turned out better if Orin had been the one to inherit Roger’s will?
In strength, leadership, charisma... even in his understanding of freedom, Orin was always a step ahead.
But as Shanks touched the straw hat on his head, his resolve steadied.
So things, after all, were his to do.
On the return route to the East Blue,
Rain poured endlessly. Orin walked along the deck, yet not a drop touched him. The seagull king perched on his shoulder, staring sharply toward the horizon—as if sensing sothing unexpected.
"Caw—"
"Yeah... looks like a governnt ship."
Orin grinned, leaning lazily on the railing, chin resting on one hand.
Even as cannons thundered in the distance, he looked entirely unconcerned.
Beckman raised his telescope, peering through the sheets of rain.
"Seems like a CP9 ship. What a pain."
But Shanks’s intent was clear—he was heading straight for them.
After a brief exchange of fire, Who’s-Who’s CP9 squad was completely overpowered by the Red-Haired Pirates. The man shouted in frustration:
"Hey!!! Red-Hair! There’s no treasure on this ship!!!"
He had no idea—Red-Hair wasn’t after treasure.
Shanks ignored him, walking into the cabin where a sealed chest awaited.
"So it really was here..."
With anticipation, he opened the lid—only to find...
It was empty.
"What the—?! Shanks!!! Orin’s gone!!!"
Beckman’s shout ca from the deck, and Shanks broke into a cold sweat.
In an instant, he realized what Orin was about to do.
Didn’t he promise Roger-sensei...?!
...
"Buru buru buru..."
Orin hadn’t been gone long when the Den Den Mushi on his side began to ring.
"Click."
The snail-phone’s face morphed into Shanks’s scarred one—confused and tense.
"Orin!!! Why did you take—"
"I know you’re anxious, but relax for a second."
Orin cut him off.
Riding atop the storm hawk ford from the Seagull King, he gazed at the purple Devil Fruit in his hand, eyes glinting with thought.
He’d planned this for a long ti—taking the Gum... or rather, the Nika Fruit—before Shanks could.
It wasn’t that he wanted to go back on his word to Roger or snuff out the coming era in its cradle.
He simply found sothing... interesting. Sothing that might bring a little fun into his boredom.
"I’ll return this Gum-Gum Fruit to you. It won’t be long, I promise. So..."
"The new era won’t end with . Don’t worry~"
Hearing this, Shanks sighed. He knew Orin understood far more than he let on. Still, he couldn’t help but say:
"Alright... but the right ti’s coming soon. Orin, you... better hurry."
There was nothing else he could do.
This wasn’t CP9—they couldn’t just take it back by force.
Even finding Orin, unpredictable as he was, was a challenge in itself. And even if they did... what then?
He had no desire to face Orin’s Divine Departure.
Seeing Shanks’s helpless expression, Orin chuckled softly and pocketed the Den Den Mushi.
His imagination ran wild—as always.
Now, with Vegapunk as his "tool," and the ability to extract Devil Fruit powers in hand...
Whether it worked or not, he wanted to try.
Before him lay several components for a synthesis:
The Nika Fruit, the Dark-Dark Fruit, ancient giant blood samples (Loki’s), and the Lunarian genetic material Vegapunk already possessed.
"...Quite the toy indeed."
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