On the New World seas, a Giant Tribe warship cleaved through the waves.
The bow split the seawater, white spray rolling like an extending mountain ridge.
The wind was fierce. The mast creaked, and the sails billowed in the sea breeze with a deep, powerful rumble.
On deck, the atmosphere was completely different from when they had come.
Several giant guards stood around Loki, hesitation in their eyes.
"Prince Loki..."
At last, someone spoke softly.
"Are we... going back now?"
Loki did not respond.
He stood at the bow, his entire body like an upright city wall.
The sea wind blew straight at him, tossing his long purple hair wildly behind him.
His gaze crossed the churning sea, passed the faint distant horizon, and settled far away.
—That was the direction of Elbaf.
Silence.
It lasted several seconds.
The wind, waves, and sails mingled together.
"Let's go back..."
The giant guards behind him exchanged looks and did not ask further.
Loki slowly raised his hand, his five fingers tightening bit by bit. "Crack—" His knuckles made a faint sound.
Images repeatedly flashed through his mind.
Lightning.
That punch.
That sentence, "It wasn't your fault," and that unfinished mention of "hidden circumstances."
His breathing grew slightly heavier as Loki's eyes began to change.
From chaos to suppression, then—
Gradually, clarity.
"Imu..."
He quietly spoke the name, and the sea wind carried his voice away.
But the moment those two words fell, the emotion in his eyes changed completely.
It was no longer blind fury, but something with a goal—
A direction.
High above.
The clouds drifted slowly as Rock and Sakazuki stood side by side, hovering within the storm.
Their gazes rested on the departing Giant Tribe warship.
That massive vessel gradually shrank until it became nothing more than an