His enemies had patiently cast a wide net, waiting for him—a self-proclaimed clever but ultimately clueless "big fish"—to willingly take the bait.
"To think... I've been outmaneuvered to this extent by a mere lowlife..."
Saint Saturn's voice echoed through the cramped cabin, thick with uncontrollable rage and deep humiliation.
As a supreme ruler who'd dominated the world for eight hundred years, he'd always stood at the pinnacle, looking down upon all living beings.
When had he ever suffered such an utter disgrace?
This sense of humiliation weighed on him like a massive mountain, nearly suffocating him and driving him to the brink of madness.
The submarine glided silently through the boundless depths. Through the cold, thick porthole, the surface above glowed with an eerie red light.
The crimson glow spread like hellfire, dyeing the waves blood-red.
It was undoubtedly Big Mom's Prometheus burning furiously, the raging flames a perfect manifestation of her manic fervor.
Faintly, the madwoman's ecstatic screams echoed down: "Mamamamama! I've collected so much more!"
"Boom!"
A deafening roar erupted in the distance, tearing through the sky like thunder.
The entire sea trembled under the immense force, as if the world itself had plunged into chaos.
Saint Saturn paused, realizing a battle had just broken out above.
He coldly closed his eyes, his already sinister expression hardening into frost.
He didn't care in the slightest about the life or death of that Admiral, his heart held only venom for Ron and the bitter resentment of his own defeat.
....
High in the sky, Whitebeard hovered like a majestic war god, standing atop rolling thunderclouds as his gaze swept across the vast ocean.
Murakumogiri emitted an intimidating glow of lightning, sparks dancing and flickering along the legendary blade.
Bolts of lightning shot out from Murakumogiri like furious whips, viciously lashing at any suspicious ripples in the sea.
Each thunderous strike acted like a heavy bomb, instantly stirring up towering waves that surged in all directions.
Yet deep within the abyssal waters, Saint Saturn's submarine remained perfectly concealed, skillfully evading Whitebeard's fierce attacks as it lurked silently in the cold darkness without a trace.
"Gurararara! You run quite fast!" Whitebeard's booming laughter echoed across the vast ocean.
To Saint Saturn, the domineering laughter was pure provocation. He responded with a cold smirk, brimming with boundless malice.
"Whitebeard..." Saturn's voice was low and hoarse, each word squeezed through clenched teeth, dripping with hatred.
"Big Mom..."
"Kaido..."
As the last name left his lips, the temperature inside the submarine seemed to drop several degrees.
"You parasites of the sea... The day we purge you all is not far off!"
...
Meanwhile, in the East Blue...
The sparkling sea resembled a massive sheet of silver satin, glittering under the sun.
The Red Force, captained by Red-Haired Shanks, sailed slowly into these all-too-familiar waters.
The howling sea breeze carried a rich, salty scent, brushing through Shanks' crimson hair.
He stood quietly, his single arm resting steadily on the ship's rail.
His profound gaze seemed capable of piercing through layers of mist, staring straight at the endlessly undulating horizon.
"Such nostalgia..." Shanks murmured softly, a bittersweet smile forming at the corner of his mouth—a mix of fond memories and the helplessness of his current situation.
Time seemed to rewind as a familiar scene surfaced in his mind's eye.
Here, in this very sea, he'd solemnly entrusted the straw hat—inherited from Captain Roger, bearing countless dreams and glories—to a boy with an incredibly bright smile.
Back then, Luffy's eyes had sparkled with a yearning for the sea and a thirst for freedom.
His innocent smile held a magical power that made Shanks firmly believe the boy would usher in a brand new era.
But now, everything was shattered.
Just then, Beckman approached with steady steps, his ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips, silver-gray hair flowing wildly in the breeze.
He stopped beside Shanks, narrowing his eyes slightly, a trace of worry evident in his gaze.
"Latest intel—Luffy is currently in Foosha Village."
Beckman's voice was low and steady. He blew out a smoke ring that dissipated over the water.
He paused briefly before continuing, "His two companions, Roronoa Zoro and Vinsmoke Sanji, are there with him. The others... aren't present."
Beckman's expression grew increasingly grave; he was well aware of how important that crew was to Luffy.
Shanks unconsciously rubbed his empty sleeve with his fingertips—the price he'd paid long ago to save the boy.
Every time he touched the spot, complex emotions surged within him.
Now, a complicated light flashed in his eyes: concern for Luffy, conviction in his past decisions, and deep unease about the challenges ahead.
However, when Beckman spoke next, Shanks's brows furrowed tightly, his previously calm face turning instantly serious.
"And... Vice Admiral Garp is also in Foosha Village."
The air seemed to freeze, the once-noisy sea breeze growing exceptionally still.
"Garp..." Shanks's expression hardened into an unusually stern mask.
Garp—the revered Marine Hero. Not only was he Luffy's grandfather, but he was also the man who despised Red-Haired Shanks more than anyone else in the world.
Shanks clearly remembered how, back when Garp learned Luffy had eaten the Gomu Gomu no Mi and wanted to become a pirate, the old man had relentlessly pursued him across the seas for three whole months!
Nearby, Yasopp stopped cleaning his beloved sniper rifle, his focused expression giving way to concern.
"Boss, should we try another time?" he interjected. "With Garp there, we might be walking straight into our death."
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