85
For the first time, something almost searing appeared on that usually gentle face-not anger, not hatred, but something more primal, more scorching.
"When the horn sounds,"
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "I hope you won't refuse."
He stepped forward.
The bar's door made no sound. It did not even go through the process of breaking-like a sand sculpture brushed by an invisible palm, it instantly dissolved into fine dust that drifted down, leaving an open passage for him.
"That boy actually..."
Shakky's fingers trembled.
She took out another cigarette, but could not get a match to light.
The tiny wooden stems snapped one after another.
"He wants to bring all the 'legends' under his command?"
Madness.
The word was too mild.
Even Rayleigh, who had once stood beside the man at the pinnacle of piracy, could only slowly exhale.
"Rossi..."
He shook his head, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the cool rim of his glass. "When we last met, I thought he was a young man who knew restraint.
"It seems I misjudged him."
How was this restraint? He was clearly an iceberg hidden beneath the surface, finally revealing edges sharp enough to tear a ship apart.
"He reminds me of someone."
"Rocks D. Zebek."
Shakky finally lit her cigarette.
The scarlet ember flickered in the dim light as she picked up the thread, her voice a little hoarse.
"But this time, there won't be a Garp and Roger to stand in his way.
"Then again-"
Golden Lion, Oden, that man, Whitebeard, Red Count... bringing those names together beneath the same flag? The mere thought sent chills down the spine.
No, it was simply impossible.
"I have to admit,"
Rayleigh picked up the stack of banknotes on the table.
The edges of the paper sliced across his