"So we actually meet here…"
"It's surprising to run into the ruler of Jaya—Thunder God Enel—in a place like this."
But the surprise on Koushirou's face vanished almost immediately.
His eyes narrowed, and that familiar gentle smile returned—calm, harmless… and absolutely unreadable.
He turned toward the entrance of the Little Dome music hall, understanding something at once.
"We need to hurry."
"Or the leader might get angry…"
The moment he finished—
whoosh.
His figure blurred.
And in the next blink, he was already standing at the entrance.
"You bastard—where the hell did you come from?!"
Bartolomeo shouted exaggeratedly when Koushirou suddenly appeared in front of him.
Beside him, Cavendish's eyes tightened sharply.
"So strong…"
This glasses-wearing man looked mild—smiling like a harmless passerby.
But Cavendish's instincts screamed one thing:
This guy is dangerous.
Then Cavendish turned his gaze toward Enel, who was striding over.
He frowned and muttered:
"What is even happening tonight…?"
"Why are there so many monsters in one place?!"
He didn't recognize Enel—
but anyone with half a brain could tell, from "riding lightning" alone, that this was no ordinary ability user.
Cavendish exhaled, forced himself to calm down, and suppressed the urge to probe them.
Normally, he might test them.
But tonight, his priority was simple:
Get inside.
If that senior was kept waiting…
Cavendish didn't want to imagine the consequences.
Meanwhile—
the empty-headed Bartolomeo became interested in Koushirou.
"Hey, four-eyes—don't block my way!"
"You some kinda deadpan freak?!"
And he actually raised his arm and started poking Koushirou's face with his finger.
Cavendish nearly cursed out loud.
This idiot… how did someone like him get valued by that person?
He was almost curious to see what would happen when Bartolomeo finally provoked the "glasses swordsman" too far.
But unexpectedly—
Koushirou kept smiling.
Not a twitch of irritation.
He even spoke politely:
"This little friend…"
"I'm in a bit of a hurry right now, so—"
"Little friend?!"
Cavendish laughed so hard tears nearly came out.
Bartolomeo, however, snapped instantly.
"What?!"
"Open your eyes and take a good look at me, damn it!!"
He got even angrier and poked faster.
Right then—
CRACK!
A sharp thunderclap exploded.
A bright yellow flash erupted in front of them, forcing everyone to shut their eyes.
When they opened them again—
Enel was already standing there, lazily looking down at them.
"You guys still have time to mess around here?"
"The concert already started."
"And the meeting time with that senior… has already passed one minute and forty-seven seconds."
Enel yawned, tone casual, like he was commenting on the weather.
The three of them froze.
Their minds all jumped to the same conclusion.
"That senior"…
With the gathering point being the Little Dome—
there was only one possible person.
Rōmu.
"How do you know the senior's info?!"
Koushirou's glasses flashed with cold light.
His right hand slid to the sword hilt—ready to draw at the slightest wrong move.
Bartolomeo and Cavendish stiffened too, eyes darting between Enel and Koushirou.
"Who the hell are you people?!"
Bartolomeo jumped back, shouting.
At the same time, his fingers crossed again—ready to trigger his power.
In his mind, Rōmu didn't want his whereabouts known.
So if these two were outsiders—
then they were already in kill zone.
Cavendish was no different.
Durandal slid free, and a heavy shadow fell over his face as he prepared to force himself into the sleep state that awakened his "second personality."
Because his instincts told him—
if these four really fought here, the Little Dome entrance would become a massacre scene.
The atmosphere turned razor-sharp.
At that moment, the doorman—trembling—finally reacted.
"E-emergency! Emergency!"
"Trouble at the Little Dome entrance!"
"Requesting security support immediately!!"
He scuttled away while shouting into his Den Den Mushi-like shell communicator.
The four men didn't even glance at him.
All eyes stayed locked.
Then Enel waved a hand lazily.
"Hey, hey, hey. Relax."
"We're not enemies."
He dropped that line lightly—
and then, unbelievably, he walked straight into the music hall, ignoring their full hostility.
Koushirou's killing intent surged, sharp enough to make the air feel thin.
"Yo~"
Enel sensed it—and even the faint sword edge hidden inside it.
He sounded genuinely impressed.
"Not bad."
Then he sighed, like he'd gotten tired of the guessing game.
"I was summoned by that senior too."
He said it plainly.
No tricks.
No half-truths.
Just an outright reveal.
And as Enel walked in, picking at his ear like it was none of his business—
Koushirou's pressure instantly vanished.
He adjusted his glasses, returning to that mild, harmless expression.
Then he turned toward Bartolomeo and Cavendish.
"Little friend."
"Looks like you two were invited as well. Come along."
And without waiting for their response—
Koushirou followed Enel into the hall.
Bartolomeo blinked, then poked Cavendish's shoulder.
"Hey, pineapple-head."
"So what they're saying is… those two were invited by the senior too?"
Smack.
Cavendish slapped Bartolomeo's hand away with open disgust and re-sheathed Durandal.
He didn't answer.
He only stared at the backs of Enel and Koushirou—
and a chill ran through his thoughts.
How many people did senior summon tonight?
So many powerhouses… for what?
His mind flashed through the world's recent shocks—
until it stopped on one headline:
The Navy will publicly execute Ace, Whitebeard Pirates' Second Division Commander, at Marineford.
Cavendish's usual frivolous air vanished completely.
Only seriousness remained.
He lowered his white hat and walked into the hall in silence.
Bartolomeo, meanwhile, was still babbling excitedly at the entrance—fully immersed in his own delusional hero worship.
"That lightning guy was insane!"
"And the glasses swordsman too!"
"When he touched his sword, my back hair stood up—he's definitely stronger than your half-baked sword tricks!"
"And even guys that strong still serve under the senior!"
"Heyhahaha…"
"Senior is the best! Idol of idols!"
He rambled for several minutes before realizing something was off.
He poked beside him again.
"Hey, pineapple-head, say something—"
"…Pineapple-head?! Where'd you go?!"
He smacked his forehead.
"You guys left without me?! Wait up!!"
And then he charged inside, yelling.
Inside the Music Hall — The Last Concert
Inside, the Little Dome held two hundred thousand seats—
and not a single one was empty.
Not everyone was rich.
Some had spent every last coin, traveled across seas, just for one glimpse of the Soul King.
Because the rumor was spreading like wildfire:
After this concert…
the Soul King would retire.
Meaning—
this might be the world-famous musician's final performance.
So the atmosphere tonight was even more feverish than any year before.
The concert was still in the warm-up stage.
The hall was dark—
but the cheering of nearly two hundred thousand people came in surging waves.
"SOUL KING—DON'T LEAVE US!!"
"SOUL KING! SOUL KING! WITHOUT YOU HOW DO I LIVE?!"
"If you must retire… TAKE MY PANTIES WITH YOU!!"
Then—
the massive red curtain finally drew open.
A tall shadow appeared center stage.
Instantly, men and women of all ages leapt to their feet, screaming toward the stage.
Clang!
A crisp metallic drum sound snapped through the darkness—
and the concert officially began.
The hall exploded into an unprecedented roar.
From the stage, that tall silhouette shouted in a powerful, hyping voice:
"Come on, baby!!"
And the entire audience answered as one—two hundred thousand arms raised—
their roar merging with the surround-sound system into a shockwave that felt like it could rip the roof off.
"Good!"
"Then let's party until only bones are left!!!"
"BONE!!"
"BONE!!"
"BONE!!!"
A sea of "BONE" chants nearly turned into a literal sonic attack.
A spotlight slammed down.
The shadow was revealed.
A golden crown.
A wild black afro.
An exaggerated orange scarf.
A tight black suit jacket.
Orange-red patterned pants.
And—
the face was a skull.
Not a man in makeup.
A real skull.
Brook.
Yet the audience didn't fear him at all.
They went even crazier.
ZING—!
Brook raked the strings of a shark-shaped guitar, unleashing a sharp metallic twang.
The two hundred thousand fans—
lost their minds.
"BONE!!"
"BONE!!!"
0th SVIP Box — The One Who Called Them
Inside SVIP Box No. 0—
a "young man" who looked around twenty sat on a huge red flower, stroking his chin with a faint smile.
"So the pirate world's fans are even crazier…"
"At this rate…"
"Even 'ikun' would struggle to compete…"
A beautiful woman in a kimono stepped in with tiny, graceful steps, smiling sweetly.
"Mu."
"Everyone you invited has arrived."
The young man nodded calmly.
"Let them in."
"Let's enjoy the Soul King's war song…"
"…prepared for the coming battle."
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