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On Garp's side, silence reigned, while over on Rocks' side, the mood was filled with teasing…
Relief and Banter Between Close Friends
The giant king Harald's wail—mixed with regret, pain, and self-reproach—shook countless people through the light curtain.
Yet beneath the light curtain, the atmosphere felt somewhat subtle.
Over on Rocks' side, he first froze for a moment, then suddenly let out a "Pfft," bursting into unrestrained laughter that grew louder and louder!
He even doubled over, showing absolutely none of the sorrow a "deceased" person should feel, nor any "touch" at being remembered so deeply.
"Hahahaha! Harald! You bastard… hahahaha!!"
Rocks pointed at the gigantic weeping figure on the light curtain, laughing so hard tears nearly came out: "You look way too ugly crying like that! Snot and tears all over your face—where's the dignity of a king! Hahahaha!"
Laughed at like this by Rocks, Harald himself flushed bright red, both embarrassed and annoyed.
"Rocks! You jerk! Shut your mouth!"
Harald swung a fist the size of a small mountain in a show of intimidation, but the embarrassment in his eyes betrayed him: "Stop laughing! Laugh again and I'll punch you!"
Rocks only laughed even harder. It took him a while to finally stop, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes: "Okay, okay, I'm done laughing, done."
He took a deep breath. The teasing expression on his face gradually faded, replaced by a rare seriousness.
He raised his head, his gaze seeming to pierce through space as if locking eyes with Harald across the divide between light curtain and reality.
"Harald…"
Rocks' voice was low and clear: "Thank you."
Those three short words instantly froze the expression on Harald's face—he had been ready to roar again—and his raised arm slowly lowered.
He looked somewhat at a loss toward Rocks, his massive palm unconsciously scratching the back of his head like a child forgiven after doing something wrong.
"Actually, I've never blamed you."
Rocks continued, his tone calm: "Everything you've done for the giant race, your struggles, your responsibilities—I saw it all.
Those words I said back then about breaking ties…"
He paused, the corner of his mouth curving into a self-deprecating arc. "They were just said in anger. I knew your situation, so there's no need to blame yourself over it, and definitely no need to cry like that. It's too ugly."
Hearing this, Harald's eyes grew hot again, but he forcibly held it back.
This time, it wasn't from regret, but from a sense of relief and warmth at being understood.
He nodded hard, his throat moving, but no words came out.
Even if the future Rocks was being controlled, he still had Harald in his heart, and Harald had shown his true feelings after Rocks' death.
At this moment, both understood each other's bond. The light curtain laid bare the attitudes they had never openly expressed.
At that point, Harald turned his gaze back to the light curtain, brows slightly furrowed.
After the massive shock and regret of Rocks' death, what path would his future self choose?
Would he become completely disheartened and abandon the effort to integrate into the world? Or… would he continue down that seemingly impossibly difficult road?
As if sensing his question, the light curtain shifted once more.
The scene arrived at the familiar coast near the Ita tavern in Elbaf.
Harald's ship was already prepared.
At the coastal tavern stood Ita, Elder Jorul, and Harald's two sons— Hajrudin and Loki…
Harald crouched down, extending his massive palm to gently pat each son's shoulder, keeping the force extremely light.
"Hajrudin … Loki…"
His voice was low and solemn: "The future of Elbaf will depend on you two brothers standing together.
"No matter what happens, remember—you are always my most cherished sons!"
Harald stood up, nodded respectfully to Ita and Elder Jorul, said nothing more, turned, and boarded the ship with heavy steps.
The sails rose, carrying the giant king's lonely yet resolute figure slowly away from Elbaf's coast.
Finally sailing into the vast sea, toward his destination… Marineford, Marine Headquarters.
The screen went black. When it lit up again, the scene had switched to the grand harbor of Marineford.
The Gate of Justice stood towering; countless Marine warships were neatly docked; the port was under strict security.
Yet today's atmosphere was exceptionally different.
After Harald's arrival, almost every elite Marine that could be mobilized appeared at the harbor and surrounding waters, arrayed in strict formation.
Leading them were several key Marine powers—Garp and Sengoku prominently among them—their expressions unusually grave.
The source of their tension was precisely that ship slowly approaching, bearing the giant king.
The vessel docked; the gangplank lowered.
Harald's gigantic figure slowly emerged. Though he deliberately restrained his aura, his innate oppressive presence still made many young Marines struggle to breathe, palms sweating.
A Marine officer steeled himself and stepped forward, saluting stiffly. His voice was dry from nerves: "I'm sorry, King Harald!
We have strict orders from above—we cannot permit you to land at Marineford at this time! Please understand, this is… the will of those above!"
As he spoke, the officer didn't even dare look up directly into Harald's eyes—the pressure was simply too overwhelming!
"Thud!"
In response to the officer came the steady, resolute sound of Harald stepping onto the Marineford harbor.
He ignored the officer's dissuasion, showed no hostility or anger, and simply walked forward—toward the Marine Headquarters building—like returning home.
His pace wasn't fast, yet it carried an unstoppable determination.
The surrounding Marine soldiers trembled as they raised their weapons, guns and blades aimed at Harald—but no one dared fire or attack lightly.
On one hand, no attack order had come from superiors; on the other, Harald's calm yet immensely powerful aura, combined with his complete lack of aggressive intent, created a strange form of deterrence.
Under the tense and bewildered gazes of countless Marines, he advanced step by step toward the heart of Marineford.
All viewers outside the light curtain held their breath at this moment.
They saw the giant king's determination for peace, but no one could guess what he intended by coming alone to Marine Headquarters amid such heavy defenses.
Negotiation? Protest? Or…
Harald reached a relatively open spot—visible to most of the Marines and clear to the high-ranking officers in the Marine Headquarters building—and stopped.
He took a deep breath; the sound was like sea wind rushing into a cavern.
Then, his resonant, deep voice rang out like a war drum across the entire Marineford harbor: "Officers of the Marines! Honored members of the World Government! I hope—you will hear me out!"
Every Marine—from ordinary soldiers to officers—froze, staring in astonishment at this uninvited giant king.
Immediately after, a scene occurred that everyone would remember for life—one that sent chills down their spines!
Harald raised both hands and firmly grasped the two enormous horns on either side of his head—symbols of strength, majesty, and one of the ancient giant race's features!
There was no hesitation in his eyes, only a near-sacrificial resolve.
Then, his arm muscles bulged, veins popping, and with all his strength, he wrenched downward!
"Splurt!!!"
A teeth-grinding tearing sound mixed with the dull thud of flesh separating rang out clearly!
Two jets of blood sprayed like fountains from either side of Harald's head, carving tragic arcs through the sunlight!
Those two horns—steel-hard and with him since birth—were ripped out by the roots from his own skull!
"Ugh!"
Harald let out a deeply suppressed grunt. His massive body shuddered violently from the excruciating pain.
But he clenched his teeth fiercely. Bean-sized sweat beads instantly covered his forehead, mixing with the spurting blood as it streamed down.
He refused to let out even a single scream or wail despite pain that would cause an ordinary person to faint instantly!
All of Marineford fell deathly silent.
Only the sound of waves crashing against the shore—and Harald's heavy, restrained breathing.
Countless Marine soldiers instinctively clutched their own heads, as if the pain had transferred to them, their faces showing incredulous horror and shock.
They had seen severed limbs before, but never such resolute, such brutal "self-mutilation"!
And the one doing it was a giant king renowned for his strength!
Harald trembled as his knees slowly sank to the ground. His heavy body caused the earth to quake slightly.
In each hand, he gripped tightly one of his blood-soaked horns—still warm with his body heat.
Blood continued to flow down his resolute face, neck, and chest, staining the ground beneath him red.
But he raised his head. Those eyes—bloodshot from agony yet still clear and resolute—looked toward the Marine Headquarters building, toward all the stunned Marines.
His voice rang out again—hoarse and trembling from enduring the pain, yet even more resolute, more earnest: "Please allow me… to make a thousand years' worth of atonement!"
"I wish to atone… for all the wrongs the giant race has committed up to now!"
"So that the children of Elbaf… can live in the future without harming anyone, and without being harmed by anyone!"
"And so that… we can live together with humans upon this vast sea…"
"I want to prove to you… that my vow to pursue peace is no empty word!"
"I want a chance… a chance for the giant race to truly atone, to be accepted!"
Blood blurred Harald's vision, dripping from the hands clutching his broken horns, but the expression on his face held only utmost sincerity, solemnity—even… a trace of humble pleading.
This was a king, for the future of his race, willingly breaking his own pride and strength, offering the most tragic "token of surrender."
This scene etched itself deeply into the hearts of every witness.
Whether the Marines inside the light curtain or people around the world outside it, all were shaken by this immense sacrifice and persistence that transcended race and allegiance.
Tears welled in many eyes, moved by this giant king's tragic wish.
However, in an unnoticed corner—in the highest shadow of the Marine Headquarters building, or perhaps deeper still in the core of World Government power.
A pair of cold, swirling eyes quietly watched everything happening at the harbor, watched Harald kneeling in a pool of blood, raising his broken horns high.
Imu's gaze was indifferent, profound, carrying not the slightest emotional fluctuation.
Like a deity, it overlooked the struggles and pleas of mortal ants.
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