Meanwhile, halfway across the world at the World Economy News Paper headquarters, "Big News" Morgans was currently tearing his own office apart in a fit of absolute rage.
"The result?! Dammit, where is the result I asked for?!" Morgans shrieked, his wings flapping so violently that loose white feathers filled the air like a snowstorm.
"W-Well, sir..." His beautiful secretary, currently picking feathers out of her hair, waited for her boss to stop hyperventilating before speaking.
"President, with a battle of that apocalyptic scale, our photographers simply couldn't get close enough to see the end. Every single News Coo we sent to the island was knocked unconscious by the Haki pressure."
Hearing this, Morgans looked ready to pop a blood vessel.
As a journalist whose only dream was to publish the most world-shaking headlines in history, missing the climax of a clash between legends was physically agonizing.
But his rage aside, Morgans was no fool.
He knew exactly how terrifying the shockwaves from an Emperor-tier battle could be.
"President... should we still print the story?" the secretary asked cautiously.
"Print it?! Of course we're going to print it!" Morgans squawked instinctively, before freezing and raising a wing. "Wait... I can just ask him directly!"
A lightbulb went off in his avian head.
He yanked his golden Den Den Mushi off the desk and rapidly dialed the number.
Ka-cha.
The rhythmic, heavy sound of Cyrus exhaling forcefully came through the receiver.
Hearing the deep, breathy sounds, a dark blush instantly spread across the secretary's face.
"What is it? Didn't I tell you not to call me unless it's an emergency? Morgans, I'm literally in the middle of training!" Cyrus barked over the line.
'Oh. He's just working out.'
The beautiful secretary blinked, a strange, undeniable hint of disappointment flashing across her features.
"The result! I need the result of the battle!" Morgans demanded, completely ignoring Cyrus's annoyance.
"Did you win against the Dark King?!"
"Huh? No, I didn't win."
"I knew it! So Dark King Rayleigh was the victor?!" Morgans gasped.
As expected of the Pirate King's right hand! Is his strength really still that terrifying?!
"No, he didn't win either."
Morgans froze, his beak twitching in complete bewilderment.
He stared down at the snail in his wing.
"The fight isn't over," Cyrus explained bluntly. "We just came back to the island to catch our breath and grab lunch. We're going back out to fight again tomorrow. Do you want to send another flock of News Coos? It looked like you lost quite a few today."
"Send them?! Of course I'll send more!" Morgans screamed happily, before pausing, a frown wrinkling his beak.
'If the battle isn't over... how do I write the headline?'
Suddenly, Morgans's beady eyes widened, sparkling with pure journalistic greed.
A serialized scoop.
Publishing the news of this massive clash all at once would definitely shock the world.
But reporting it day by day, building the tension and leaving the entire globe agonizing over the final outcome?
That would sell millions of papers!
"Was there anything else?" Cyrus's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Ah, yes! Regarding the Hunter Guild... Crocodile informed me that he wants to delay the press release. He plans to announce it globally only after the infrastructure is fully established," Morgans replied quickly, sensing Cyrus's growing impatience.
"Is that so? Fine, just handle the PR with him. I'm busy."
Ka-cha.
The line went dead.
Morgans immediately spun around, his cape billowing. "Go! Go to the printing presses! Get the photos developed and run the first edition! The headline focus is purely on the clash of their identities: The Rising Star of the East Blue versus the Legend of the Old Era!"
"Yes, President!" The secretary nodded eagerly and sprinted out of the office.
"Hehehe... this scoop is going to completely steal the world's attention away from Red Hair and Big Mom," Morgans chuckled darkly to himself, gently stroking his beak.
...
"Continue."
Back on Sabaody, Cyrus tossed his ringing Den Den Mushi to Robin and looked expectantly at Issho.
The moment he gave the word, a terrifying, suffocating wave of gravity descended upon him.
CRACK!
The immense pressure instantly forced Cyrus's boots deep into the dirt, spiderweb cracks spreading rapidly across the training grounds.
Under the crushing weight of Issho's Devil Fruit power, Cyrus's expression remained perfectly calm.
He smoothly raised his sword and began running through his forms.
"Are you truly planning to engage in a battle of attrition with the Dark King every single day?" Issho asked calmly, maintaining the gravity field with a slight lean on his cane sword.
"Until I achieve my goal, yes," Cyrus replied, his muscles bulging as he forced his blade through the heavy air.
"And how long do you estimate that will take?"
"Why? Are you in a rush to be somewhere?" Cyrus asked, pausing his swing to look over at the blind swordsman.
"Miss Nico was kind enough to inform me of the current situation in Dressrosa," Issho said, his unseeing white eyes "looking" directly at Cyrus.
"Oh, that." Cyrus nodded in understanding. "It won't take too long. I've already managed to grasp the basic flow of the technique."
Getting a feel for it was one thing, but Cyrus couldn't give an exact timeline for true mastery.
As the absolute pinnacle application of Supreme King Haki, Conqueror's Coating wasn't something you could master just by reading a manual.
It required muscle memory forged in near-death combat.
"The situation in Dressrosa is relatively stable for now," Cyrus added. "Doflamingo hijacked that country to build his underworld empire. He needs the citizens alive and working for his own benefit. It's a tragedy, but it's not an immediate bloodbath."
"Hmm. I see," Issho nodded thoughtfully.
Sitting on a nearby bench, Robin listened to the exchange, her blue eyes drifting over to her captain.
"Your stamina is practically infinite, Cyrus. But Dark King Rayleigh is an old man. Can he really survive fighting you day after day?"
Robin had a terrifyingly clear understanding of Cyrus's physical endurance.
He was a biological anomaly. Rayleigh might have been able to keep pace twenty years ago, but today, the old man looked genuinely exhausted.
"What does that matter?" Cyrus chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Back in my hometown, we have a specific martial arts strategy for this. It's called: 'Outlasting the old man!'"
Robin stared at him, absolutely stunned by the sheer audacity of the phrase.
'Outlasting the old man? That is... incredibly descriptive.'
"Don't worry about him," Cyrus grinned. "He's a stubborn old goat. He can definitely hold out long enough for me to steal his technique."
...
"I really don't think I can hold out much longer..."
Inside the bar, Rayleigh slammed his wine bottle onto the counter, wiped his mouth, and looked at Shakky with a dead-serious expression.
"Is he really that monstrous?" Shakky asked, genuine shock flashing across her usually unreadable face.
"He's a freak of nature," Rayleigh nodded grimly, massaging his aching shoulder. "His raw physical density... it completely mirrors that monster, Charlotte Linlin."
"So, let me get this straight. He's just going to keep violently assaulting you until he masters Conqueror's Coating?" Shakky asked, her brain feeling slightly numb at the absurdity of the situation.
"That seems to be the plan, yes."
"Why don't we just pack up the bar and leave the island for a few weeks to avoid him?" Shakky suggested reasonably.
"I'm the Dark King Rayleigh! I do not run from— cough! cough! hack!" Rayleigh puffed his chest out proudly, only to immediately choke violently on his own spit.
"Oh, please stop it," Shakky sighed, handing him a napkin.
"A retired pirate shouldn't be letting his ego write checks his aging body can't cash. Don't push yourself if you're going to get killed."
"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure the kid knows exactly what he's doing. Just like today—he purposefully initiated a truce the exact second he noticed my stamina was redlining," Rayleigh chuckled, affectionately stroking his beard.
"Well... that's a relief, at least." Shakky stared closely at Rayleigh's face to make sure he wasn't lying to protect his pride.
She knew she couldn't exactly march up to Cyrus and demand he go easy on her husband.
She wasn't that naive; the sea was unforgiving.
...
The very next morning, less than twenty-four hours after the first clash, a bombshell headline was violently dropped across the globe by Morgans's relentless fleets of News Coos.
A legendary name that had been buried by the passing decades was violently dragged back into the light.
The Right Hand of the Pirate King. The Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh.
He had finally been found.
And he was currently locked in a death match with the rising supernova of the East Blue—the Pirate Hunter, Cyrus.