Inside the bar, the air seemed to be gently held down by an invisible hand.
Shanks pushed the door open, and the wooden panel let out a low creak.
The sea breeze rushed in, scattering the smoke above the bar slightly.
He looked up and met the gazes of the other two, then let out a soft sigh.
"This matter..."
"It's a long story."
There was a trace of fatigue in his voice.
He walked over to the bar and sat down, the chair scraping softly against the floor.
Rayleigh slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on Shanks's left side.
There was nothing there. The stump showed no torn flesh, nor did it look like a wound inflicted by a blade.
It was merely charred and smooth, its edges slightly curled.
As if some terrifying heat had completely "evaporated" it in an instant.
Rayleigh's pupils suddenly contracted, as though his heart had been struck by a heavy hammer.
At that moment, a memory buried deep in his mind was torn open.
—More than a decade ago.
Out at sea, the winds and waves howled.
High above the ship's bow, a figure stood there.
Lightning surrounded him, and his presence was as imposing as the heavens.
That was—the "one who pressed down upon all" of their era.
Rayleigh abruptly raised his head and stared fixedly at Shanks. The laziness was gone from his eyes, replaced by sharpness.
"Shanks—"
His voice was low.
"Your arm..."
He paused for a moment, and his tone suddenly grew heavier.
"Could it have been—?!"
Shanks looked up, and their gazes collided in the air.
He nodded gently, his expression darkening.
"Yeah."
"I ran into Rock."
The entire bar fell utterly silent.
Ice slowly melted in the liquor, its faint sound seeming especially piercing.
Shakuyaku's hand