Raising Legends in Roger’s Shadow

The Roger Pirates faced two options. One was to buy an ordinary ship with their own money. The other was far more daring: to obtain a slab of the legendary Adam Wood enough to forge a keel and build the Oro Jackson, entirely for free.

Ritter was deeply curious how Roger and his crew had ever managed to get their hands on such a massive chunk of Adam Wood. After all, even in the original timeline, Franky had spent a fortune just to acquire a single small piece. That alone proved how rare and precious it was.

Uncle Tom brought news: the Heavenly Tribute shipment currently being transported included a trunk of Adam Wood, large enough to serve as a keel. The question was did the Roger Pirates have the guts to go after it?

They didn't hesitate.

There were moments when Ritter couldn't help but believe that fate or perhaps something greater really did exist.

They said the sea's weather was fickle, especially in the New World, as shown in the original story. And just as fate would have it, the transport ship carrying the Heavenly Tribute entered these waters right as a heavy fog rolled in.

Shrouded by the mist, four figures held their breath aboard a small boat.

Rayleigh lowered his spyglass, the lens reflecting the scene on the warship's deck.

A sea of pristine white uniforms yet discipline was nowhere to be found. Instead of standing guard, the marines chatted and laughed in groups. Inside an iron cage, a dozen mangled figures curled into themselves, their shackles worn down to bare bone. The blood on the deck was still fresh. One marine lazily wiped it away with his boot, humming a tune as he went.

A whip cracked on the upper deck. The Celestial Dragons didn't care if the slaves lived or died. And as long as they hadn't requested a specific one, the marines didn't care either. These were nobles trying to curry favor, not soldiers of justice.

A slave's finger was ripped out with iron tongs.

A marine officer laughed and poured salt water directly into the wound.

"Captain," Rayleigh turned to Roger, his voice hard. "If we stick to the plan and only take the Adam Wood, these people might live." But the murder in his eyes was barely contained.

Their original plan had been simple: steal the Adam Wood, slip away quietly, and transport it to Water 7. Let the world government stew in its fury. With the marines guarding the slaves, most would likely survive.

But on second thought... no righteous marine would ever volunteer to escort the Heavenly Tribute. And seeing those slaves wailing, pleading, eyes hollow how could any sense of justice not waver?

That was the truth. The ones on that ship weren't real marines anymore. They were rotten to the core. What made them any different from pirates?

A shadow fell across Roger's face, cast by the brim of his straw hat.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Shing—

Roger drew his sword. The cold steel reflected a pair of eyes that held not a trace of laughter.

"Kill them all," he said.

"Leave no one alive."

Rayleigh nodded slightly. His glasses glinted with a dangerous chill. "Jabba, clear the deck. You can handle that, right?"

Jabba's eyes were already burning with fury. "Been waiting for this."

Ritter took a deep breath. The fog he released began to merge with the natural mist around them, thickening it. "A wise decision, Captain."

Roger gently ruffled Ritter's hair, his voice barely more than a sigh.

"Kid, remember this—"

"Some sins... not even the sea can wash clean."

"Strange... why's it so foggy all of a sudden?" a marine muttered, waving at the air in front of him.

The fog grew thicker. Its color began to darken.

"Something's wrong! It's toxic!" someone shouted, clutching at his throat. But it was too late.

One by one, the soldiers collapsed, their eyelids heavy, limbs paralyzed. Those who inhaled it had no hope of survival. All they could do was writhe on the ground, feeling their bodies slowly rot away.

The den den mushi, used for communication, were all corroded silenced by the mist.

"Fog Prison: Silent Cage."

From a distant boat, Ritter's lips curled into a cold smile.

The rest of the battle was no longer his to fight. He knew his limits. In eight hundred years, no one had ever hijacked the Heavenly Tribute.

"You lot got way too comfortable."

Visibility dropped below three meters. Marines and CP0 agents flailed like headless flies across the deck, gunfire and shouted orders blending into a cacophony of chaos.

"Hold formation! Back to back!" a marine commander barked.

But before the last word left his lips, a chill ran down his neck.

Jabba's figure flickered in the mist, twin axes carving deadly arcs through the fog.

"Anyone who talks dies first."

"There! Over there!"

Twenty riflemen opened fire in unison, bullets tearing through an afterimage. In the next heartbeat, Jabba appeared in their midst, axes crossed in an X.

Blood bloomed. When the last rifleman fell, Jabba lowered his weapons.

"Tch. I even got serious. Ritter made a fake clone... bunch of trash."

The lead CP0 agent raised a hand. Five members immediately spread out, forming a tight defensive ring, backs pressed together. They activated their Observation Haki, reaching out with every sense.

"Silvers Rayleigh... the 'Dark King' of the Roger Pirates," came a low voice from behind a mask. "Didn't expect to meet you here."

No response. Only the soft whisper of fog, like a reaper exhaling.

Suddenly—

The rightmost agent froze. A hair-thin red line bloomed across his throat. Eyes wide, he collapsed before a sound could leave his lips.

"Damn it! Where is he?!"

The others pulled in, but another shadow danced past.

The second agent's arms were severed at the shoulder. Blood splattered across a teammate's mask. He stumbled back straight into Rayleigh.

"Your speed," Rayleigh said, "is far too slow."

Before the words had even finished, his short blade had pierced the third agent's heart. In a single smooth motion, he chopped into the fourth's neck with a precision strike.

The final CP0 member finally caught a glimpse of Rayleigh's movements.

Too late.

The tip of Rayleigh's blade tapped his brow. A bead of blood trickled down.

"To think even garbage like you knows my name... how utterly disgraceful."

Crack.

The mask shattered as the agent collapsed.

Roger leapt into the air. His sword Ace crackled with black-and-red lightning pure Conqueror's Haki.

"Divine Departure!"

BOOM!

A blade of light tore across the sky.

Where the slash passed, the supports holding the Adam Wood snapped cleanly. The massive timber slid off the ship into the sea, raising a towering wave.

The shockwave swept the deck. Every marine's eardrums burst. Blood streamed from eyes and mouths. They collapsed without a scream.

Under the crushing pressure of Roger's Haki, the Adam Wood let out a mournful creak. Cracks split the hull of the tribute ship. Water rushed into every gap.

Roger's lips curled into a grin. With a twist of his blade, he gathered another wave of Haki.

"How about one more for good measure?"

CRASH!!!

A second slash fell.

The warship split in half. The sea parted in a massive, gaping trench that took a long, long time to close.

Maybe it was the satisfaction of cleaning up trash, but Roger seemed to be in a much better mood now.

We caught ourselves an Adam Wood!

(Pokémon narrator voice)