Loguetown.
The town known as "the town of beginnings and endings" was as bustling and prosperous as ever.
This was the birthplace of the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, and the place where he would one day be publicly executed. Countless young pirates with dreams in their hearts set sail from here, and countless disillusioned pirates ended their adventures here.
At that moment, however, the atmosphere in the most famous tavern in the town center felt somewhat unusual.
The tavern was packed. Sailors, merchants, and bounty hunters clamored loudly, gulping down cheap rum and boasting about their adventures.
Yet an invisible barrier seemed to surround the tavern's most inconspicuous corner, cutting it off from the surrounding clamor.
No one dared approach that corner.
Only two people sat there.
One was a tall, bespectacled middle-aged man with a presence as steady as a mountain and a Famous Sword at his waist.
"Pluton" Silvers Rayleigh.
Across from him sat a man in a red captain's coat, sporting his signature crescent-shaped mustache. He should have been brimming with bold exuberance, but at that moment, he looked somewhat forlorn.
He was not drinking alcohol. Only a glass of water sat before him. He simply gazed quietly at the busy street outside the window, his eyes deep, as though recalling something.
The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.
"Captain, are we really going to wait here?" Rayleigh asked quietly, a trace of worry in his voice. "Your health..."
"It's all right, Rayleigh." Roger smiled, his smile carrying a hint of easy acceptance. "I can feel it. He'll come."
"Besides, before I go see those old friends in the Marines, I'd like to see for myself just what kind of person the man the whole world calls 'God' really is."
Roger had barely finished speaking.
Creak-
A