A test

Shanks remained silent.

He leaned against the ship's railing, his left hand resting on the hilt of Gryphon's knife, his long red hair billowing to one side in the sea breeze.

His gaze lingered in the direction where the Killing Hall had disappeared for a long time before he looked away.

"Beckman is right, but not entirely."

Beckman tilted his head slightly.

"Uchiha Natsu could have easily avoided talking to us and attacked directly," Shanks said calmly. "But he didn't. He gave us ten days. These ten days weren't for us; they were for himself. He was testing us."

"What are you testing?"

"To test whether we still deserve to exist," Shanks said. "He left Shamrock with me, untouched. Logically speaking, Shamrock is a member of the God's Knights, a subordinate of Imu, and an enemy of the Uchiha Clan."

But Natsu didn't take him from us, nor did she mention it. What does that mean?

This means he doesn't intend to make trouble for Shamrock, at least not now. So why did he still want me to see him?

He clenched his fist, then relaxed it.

"Because the Red-Haired Pirates are still around. We are still one of the Four Emperors' crews, we still have territory, and we still have a group of brothers."

He summoned me to see in person whether I, one of the Four Emperors, still respected the rules and was willing to remain under this new order.

If I go and my attitude is right, the Red-Haired Pirates can still survive. If I don't go, or if I go and my attitude is wrong—"

He didn't finish speaking.

Beckman finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the gunwale. "So you're planning to go?"

"Go," Shanks said. "Ten days later, alone."

"I'll go with you."

He said someone was coming.

"I'm not going to the island. I'll wait on the outskirts." Beckman flicked his cigarette butt into the sea. "You go in alone, I'll stay outside. If things fall apart, at least someone can run back and report."

Shanks glanced at him, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Okay."

Yasopp stood up from the wooden box, his anger mostly subsided, but he was still a little sullen. "So what are we going to do for the next ten days?"

"Stay put," Shanks said. "Nowhere. No ship repairs, no resupply. Everyone stay here and wait for news in ten days. Nobody cause trouble, nobody inquire. Don't touch Uchiha Clan territory."

He looked up and glanced at everyone on the deck.

"For the next ten days, we've been a bunch of people waiting to be summoned. All of you, get your attitude straight."

After everyone left, Shanks was the only one left on the deck.

He stood on the ship's side, his left hand resting on the railing, his long red hair blowing to one side in the sea breeze.

Dusk had fallen, and only a layer of dark blue light remained on the sea surface; the outline of the nameless island in the distance was almost invisible.

He stared in that direction, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen ten days from now.

I went alone.

No Beckman, no Yasopp, no one else.

He entered the Uchiha Clan's territory and stood face to face with Natsu.

He recalled the tone of the Killing Hall's voice when he said "permission"—it was very calm, neither condescending nor polite.

It was just that straightforward. It was as if this matter didn't need discussion or emphasis.

He thought about it for a while and realized that he wasn't angry at all.

If someone used to speak to him in that tone, he would probably laugh and then let the other person know what it means to be Four Emperors.

But now he can't get angry.

What Beckman had just said kept flashing through my mind.

With a wave of his Susanoo, Madara sealed five of the hundreds of Susanoo, Natsu destroyed Imu.

These images weighed heavily on his mind, suppressing his anger.

Ten days. He only has ten days. In ten days, he will walk into that place and face the person who destroyed the World Government.

He didn't know what Natsu would ask him.

He only knew one thing: the Red-Haired Pirates could not afford to make any mistakes during these ten days.

Not a single one can be left behind.

He stood on the ship's railing, watching the last glimmer of light sink into the sea in the Dusk, without moving.

When that seagull took the last photo, the tips of its wings were trembling.

It circled over the Sabaody Archipelago for almost half an hour, neither daring to approach nor fly far.

What lay below was terrifying; hundreds of mountain-like giants stood there, each one larger than anything it had ever seen.

It took a few pictures, flapped its wings, and turned to fly towards the World Economy News Paper's airship.

It didn't notice anyone behind it.

A Night Owl Guard in a greyish-white uniform strolled on the sea not far below it.

They walked slowly, riding the waves, one step at a time, as if strolling in their own backyard.

He tilted his head back, his gaze following the seagull's trajectory, trailing it at a distance that wasn't too close or too far.

He moves quickly when the seagulls move fast, and he moves slowly when the seagulls move slow, always maintaining a certain distance.

The seagulls flew onto the airship.

Morgans was standing by the fence, clutching a stack of papers, muttering something to himself, probably planning how to publish today's headline.

He had just taken a step, ready to catch the seagull that had fallen, when he stopped.

Because there was an extra person on the fence.

The Night Owl Guard in the gray-white uniform had arrived at some point.

He stood there on the airship's railing, his feet resting on narrow wooden planks, staring blankly at Morgans.

The sea breeze made the hem of his uniform flutter, but he remained motionless, like a nail driven into place.

Morgans froze.

His mouth opened and closed, and a very soft sound, as if something was stuck in his throat, escaped.

His fingers loosened, and the stack of manuscript papers slipped from his hand, scattered on the ground by the sea breeze.

The Night Owl Guard didn't move. He simply looked at Morgans, his gaze and tone flat.

"Within three days, travel to the Holy Land Mary Geoise to pay homage to my Lord Natsu."

He paused for a moment. Just a moment.

"Otherwise, die."

Before Morgans could even process those words, the world before him changed.

He didn't know how he got pulled in.

One second he was on the deck of an airship, the next he was standing in a place where there was nothing at all.

The sky was grayish-white, the ground was grayish-white, everything was grayish-white.

He looked down at his hands; his hands were there.

He looked up and saw the Night Owl Guard standing in front of him, still with that expressionless face.

Then he died.