The Annexation of Rocks' Legacy Shocks the World

Sabaody Archipelago. Grove 13. A rundown tavern.

The wooden door creaked as the sea wind blew against it. The air reeked of the sour fermentation of cheap rum, mixed with the sweaty stench of pirates who had not bathed in years.

A one-eyed pirate sat before the bar. He belched and was just about to pick up his wooden cup.

A news bird swooped past the half-open window and dropped a newspaper thick with the smell of ink.

The newspaper landed squarely on the wooden cup.

The liquor splashed out, spraying the one-eyed pirate's face.

He swore as he snatched up the newspaper. His rough fingers wiped the ale from his face, and his eyes swept toward the front page.

He only glanced at the line of bold black letters.

His hand suddenly trembled.

"Clatter."

His elbow knocked over the wooden cup. It fell to the floor and shattered into several pieces. Amber liquor seeped down through the cracks between the floorboards.

The drinking game in the tavern came to an abrupt halt. A dozen pirates turned to stare at him, while several underlings cleaning their muskets stopped moving.

The one-eyed pirate's lips turned pale. The paper shook violently in his hands.

"Rocks... is dead. God Valley has sunk."

His voice was not loud, but it struck the center of the tavern like a solid iron cannonball.

Silence.

A few seconds later, a wave of gasps erupted, loud enough to blow the roof off.

Someone crushed the peanut shells beneath his feet. Someone else dropped the pipe in his hand onto his crotch. Sparks burned through the fabric, making him leap to his feet without even bothering to brush the ash off his thigh.

The one-eyed pirate swallowed. His Adam's apple rolled with difficulty as he stared at the bold subheading near the bottom of the newspaper.

"The true winner... is the Charlotte Family."

The front page featured a blurry black-and-white photograph.

A pitch-black steel warship dragged a massive metal sphere as it broke through the leaden gray clouds and soared into the sky. A few bricks of Pure Gold could vaguely be seen reflecting light across the sphere's surface.

The article itself was crystal clear.

The Celestial Dragons' eight-hundred-year treasury, along with a God-tier Devil Fruit, had been completely devoured by the Charlotte Family.

They had not left the World Government even a single coin or scrap of wastepaper.

New World. Totto Land Prototype Island.

Blinding golden light illuminated the beach as brightly as day.

Piles of Pure Gold bricks had been casually thrown across the sand. Dozens of famous blades set with rubies lay scattered everywhere. Their edges reflected icy glints, slicing through the coconut shells beside them.

Charlotte Linlin sat atop a heavy lead cylinder filled with ancient blueprints.

She clutched the freshly roasted leg of a Sea King and tore into it with huge bites. Grease dripped from her chin onto her polka-dot dress, and she did not care in the slightest.

"Mamamamama!" Linlin threw her head back and laughed wildly.

She casually tossed aside the enormous bone she had finished eating.

The bone traced an arc through the air before slamming into the head of a kneeling pirate ahead of her. It shattered on impact, leaving a purplish-red lump, while blood ran down the man's forehead.

This pirate had originally been one of the affiliated captains under Rocks.

With Rocks dead, the New World had descended into chaos.

Whitebeard and Golden Lion had each taken their people and left. The remaining remnants had lost their protection and were scurrying across the sea like stray dogs.

Marine warships pursued them relentlessly from behind. Their heavy cannons roared without mercy, leaving no survivors.

To stay alive, large numbers of the remnants sailed their battered pirate ships toward the Charlotte Family's waters in a frenzy.

Hundreds of people knelt densely across the beach, all kowtowing and begging for shelter. Their foreheads struck the coarse sand, drawing threads of red blood. No one dared to wipe it away.

Linlin accepted every one of them.

With this enormous fortune in hand, she waved her arm and contacted several major arms dealers from the underworld.

She used Pure Gold to open up the routes, trading the incomprehensible fragments of ancient blueprints for vast quantities of supplies.

In just a few short days, the Charlotte Family had forcefully taken over most of the territory Rocks had left behind in the New World.

Two minor pirate crews had originally wanted to resist while they had the chance. Linlin did not even show herself. She simply sent people to break the limbs of the two captains, stuff them into sacks, and throw them into the sea to feed the sharks.

The family's influence expanded madly like a rolling snowball. Every day, new pirate flags were replaced with the emblem of the Charlotte Family.

But what truly made this sea feel a bone-deep chill was not Linlin's appetite.

It was the in-depth report on the back of the newspaper.

Morgans, president of the World Economy News Paper, had used an entire page to methodically dissect the beginning and end of the God Valley Battle.

The Roger Pirates' nonsensical charge into the chaos.

The cliffside escape route that had suddenly collapsed beneath Rocks' feet.

And the underground passage on the far side of the island, forcibly carved through half the island by sheer strength.

When all the clues were pieced together, they ultimately pointed to the three-year-old pink-haired child.

Charlotte Rektol.

That name spread rapidly through the Four Blues and the Grand Line like a plague thick with the stench of blood.

He had stepped over the corpse of the sea's emperor, Rocks, and treated the Marine admiral, the Roger Pirates, and the Celestial Dragons as pieces in the palm of his hand.

While everyone else had fought until their brains were battered, he had hidden underground and swallowed the fattest piece of meat in one bite.

Not only had he survived, he had also escaped with all the spoils intact.

It was pure calculation—a vicious method that obeyed no rules whatsoever.

The most terrifying viper on the sea.

The identity of the mastermind had been completely exposed.

The old-guard pirates who had been secretly plotting in taverns, planning to head to the New World and make a fortune after Rocks' death, broke into a cold sweat the moment they heard Rektol's name. Their clothes clung coldly to their backs.

That very night, more than a dozen pirate ships turned around and fled, escaping the first half of the New World for fear of being targeted by that three-year-old viper.

On the edge of Totto Land, a steel warship was moored beside the breakwater.

Inside the command room on the highest level of the bridge, the air was as cold as an icy cellar.

The heavy metal hatch was tightly shut. The gears on the walls clicked together in a steady rhythm.

Rektol sat upon a high-backed throne cast from Wapometal. His military boots rested casually on the mottled hide of a Sea King, flattening its fur.

He held a freshly delivered intelligence scroll in his hand.

After giving it a cursory glance, he loosened his fingers. The parchment scroll dropped onto the iron table beside him with a crisp clack.

"We've only just swallowed such a huge territory. There are always a few small fry who think we've overeaten and want to take a bite."

Rektol gazed at the gloomy sea beyond the observation window, his voice cold and hard.

More than a dozen pirate alliance fleets that refused to submit had gathered beyond the defensive line of Totto Land's waters under the banner of punishing Rocks' traitors. Their sails formed an unbroken stretch that blocked the horizon. They intended to carve up Rocks' legacy.

Katakuri stood beside the throne.

The bandages on his body had already been removed. The new flesh beneath them had a dark bluish tint and was sturdier than before.

With every breath, a deep rumble like that of an ancient ferocious beast could be faintly heard. The power of the Azure Dragon Fruit lay dormant in his veins.

He had grown taller, and his posture, which had once been slightly hunched, now stood straight as a Fine Steel spear.

Rektol turned his head.

He looked at his younger brother, who had been completely reborn.

He raised his right hand, bringing his thumb and middle finger together.

"Snap."

He snapped his fingers crisply.

Rektol lifted his chin slightly and pointed toward the distant horizon.

"Go. Give this sea a greeting."