The Foremost Hero Under Heaven

A news-delivering seagull with a satchel slung across its back soared over the sea, tossing several newspapers from its bag that fluttered down onto the deck of the headquarters warship.

At the tip of the mast, Conrad stood on one leg like a golden rooster, crouching on his sole to absorb the morning vitality of the sunrise.

With eyes closed like a still statue, his hand suddenly snatched forward, intercepting a newspaper.

He opened it to the front-page headline.

<Blood-Soaked Tragedy! Devil Sheriff Laffitte Colludes with West Blue Mafia Family, Brutally Murders King of Ilusia Kingdom!>

Below was a photo of a pale face wearing a sinister grin.

And in the bottom right corner of the page, another photo was pasted—this one showing his red-haired appearance.

The accompanying text read: Aokiji Buster Force Gains Great Renown! New Naval Star and Hero Conrad! Led the Second Buster Force Unit, Fought a Desperate Battle to the Death Against the Mafia at the Opera House, and Rescued Numerous Kingdom Dignitaries from a Life-or-Death Crisis!

Conrad's eyelids twitched as he read.

Reading the full article, he found that while the general outline of the event remained, the underlying reasons had been altered beyond recognition.

The entire incident had been reframed as a conspiracy between Laffitte, Tony Marlon, and Capone Bege.

They had planned to kidnap the King and all the dignitaries to seize control of the country, extort its wealth, and then enter the Grand Line to form the Wicked Pirate Crew.

However, Conrad, with his keen insight, had allegedly foreseen the conspiracy of Bege and the others in advance, launching a surprise attack on the Mafia before their personnel were fully deployed to successfully rescue the dignitaries.

Then, when over a thousand armed Mafia thugs arrived, Conrad had chosen to stay behind alone to cover the retreat, buying time for his fellow Marines to escape.

Finally, to rescue King Lucas, who was being held hostage by Laffitte, Conrad had charged forward at the risk of his own life.

But the cruel Laffitte had used the King as a human shield and secretly rigged a bomb, causing Conrad's desperate rescue attempt to fail and leaving him severely wounded in the explosion.

Yet, Conrad's unremitting efforts had ultimately dragged things out until Aokiji led the main Naval force to provide support, dealing a powerful, head-on blow to the Mafia's conspiracy.

Closing the newspaper, Conrad felt his scalp tingle and scratched his head.

He leaped from the mast onto the deck, where Marines already engaged in morning training were also reading the papers.

A tall, burly figure walked up to Conrad and bowed deeply—it was Shuzo of the Longarm Tribe.

"I'm sorry, Conrad. I misunderstood your actions." Shuzo clutched the newspaper, his voice filled with remorse. "I thought you were acting recklessly, but it turns out everything was part of your plan."

Conrad felt a bit overwhelmed and raised a hand with a reassuring smile. "Uh... actually..."

"No need to explain! I understand everything!"

Shuzo crumpled the newspaper into a ball, tears rolling from the eyes of this iron-willed man. "With my intelligence and my foolish, old-fashioned ways! You couldn't have explained it to me clearly! Even if you had, it would have only wasted time during the operation!"

At this, he trembled with regret, his voice shaking as he continued: "Yet even so, you didn't offer a single word of explanation, choosing to sacrifice yourself for us!"

Boom!

Shuzo dropped to one knee, pressing his right hand firmly against his heart, staring at Conrad with tears streaming down his face as he roared at the top of his lungs: "Conrad! You are a true hero!"

The sound echoed across the deck, drawing the attention of all the Marines, and the members of the Second Unit approached with reddened eyes.

Conrad had always been magnanimous, but this sentiment was twisted, tainted by falsehoods, and he found it impossible to accept.

"Everyone, there are some things in this matter that I am not at liberty to disclose..."

"Conrad! Hero! Legend!"

The Marines swarmed forward, arms raised, weeping theatrically as they rushed toward him, their footsteps thumping against the deck and kicking up dust.

Truth be told, Conrad had never seen such an enthusiastic scene, but since everyone was happy, he, as a man of the world, certainly wouldn't be the one to spoil the mood.

Regardless of the rights and wrongs, he decided to just enjoy the moment.

He planted his hands on his hips, threw his head back, and laughed wildly: "That's right! I am the man destined to be the world's greatest hero!"

Shuzo wiped away his tears, used his long arms with their double-jointed wrists to grip Conrad's ankles, and hoisted him a full five meters into the air.

His black-tipped blood-red hair drifted backward, straightened as if by a comb, revealing his forehead and spirited brows; his eyes looked out at the people and the sea with a gentle, confident smile.

"Heave-ho!"

He was tossed straight up, looking down from high above at the golden waves rolling by the sea, only to be caught by the interlocked hands of the Marines and tossed again.

His body remained upright; his arms, initially crossed over his chest, were now clasped behind his back, his face and torso meeting the vast sunlight in the direction the warship was sailing.

It wasn't until the bugle for the end of training sounded that the Marines simultaneously pulled back and ran off. Conrad dropped from a height of seven or eight meters, landing squarely on his feet on the deck.

But for his current physical constitution, this was clearly nothing; he accelerated with a stomp, using Soru to be the first to reach the assembly point.

After morning training and breakfast, Conrad went as usual to find Kujaku to bring back Baby-5.

But Issho, the man in purple wearing Seastone handcuffs, was standing in the restaurant's front corridor, leaning on his sword-cane. He looked up the moment Conrad arrived, clearly waiting for him.

"May I have a word with you?"

"Let's talk while we eat." Conrad walked straight into the restaurant, only to find that the table where Kujaku usually waited for him was empty, save for a black-silk spear laid across two chairs.

He frowned, walked quickly to his seat, picked up the spear, carefully wiped the spots where the shaft had touched the chairs with his sleeve, and stood it beside him.

"You are a man who cherishes his weapon, I see." Issho sat down opposite him, took a purple cloth from his sleeve, wrapped up the Gambler's Fireline, and placed it on the table.

Conrad finished the mountain of food, pulled his chopsticks from his pouch, and began to shovel it in. "Speak your mind."

"Ever since you boarded this ship, you have never sought out this humble one. I have been feeling quite uneasy, so I came to see you."

Fujitora stroked the purple cloth on the table. "Your heroic courage, and even your gambling skills, have left this humble one full of admiration. But since you have become my creditor, I hope you might tell me what you intend to arrange for me to do."

Conrad kept eating, not even raising his head. "How did you go blind?"

"It is laughable, really." Fujitora chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I cut my own eyes out."

"The reason."

Fujitora touched the scar that crossed his forehead and eyes. "Sigh... as you know, I was originally a war criminal from a fallen kingdom, a man living in sin. I had simply seen too much of the world's darkness and could not bear to look upon it any longer."

"That is the problem!" Conrad held a piece of bone-in meat with his chopsticks, pointed it at Fujitora's nose, and swallowed a massive mouthful of rice that made his throat bulge.

This was nearly thirteen years before the original story where Fujitora would serve as an Admiral; at this moment, the man was likely still trapped in his own internal conflict, unable to find a way out.

Fujitora nodded. "Please, speak."

Conrad was blunt. "Are you using the gambling den to escape reality? Is it comforting to convince yourself that because you are in a pile of trash, the whole world is a pile of trash? Hopeless?"

Fujitora sighed. "Even if that were not the case, with only the strength of this humble one, how much can I really do? How many people can I actually save..."

Conrad slapped his chest hard. "Great matters are for others to handle!"

Fujitora froze, his blind eyes opening slightly to reveal a sliver of white.

"You, save one person at a time!" Conrad tossed the meat into the air, caught it in his mouth, and slammed his chopsticks onto the table. "Do good deeds! Do not ask about the future! As a swordsman, do you really need me to teach you such a simple principle?"