Cocoyashi Village was on fire.
Homes smoldered, flames dancing like cruel spirits on rooftops. The smell of burning wood mixed with blood, salt, and smoke. Screams echoed through the streets, but no one came to help. No Marines. No hope.
Only monsters.
The Arlong Pirates roamed like kings, dragging villagers into the square. Bodies littered the dirt. Zoro lay crumpled near a broken fence, his swords shattered. Sanji was barely breathing, face swollen from repeated blows. Usopp had crawled under the rubble, trying to keep a child calm with trembling hands.
At the center of it all, Arlong grinned, his jagged teeth glinting like saw blades. He had Nami by the wrist. Her eyes were wide with fury — and heartbreak.
"You really thought these weaklings could save you?" he snarled. "This is my sea. My world."
Behind him, Luffy lay motionless, pinned beneath Chew's massive foot, his face bruised, straw hat flung aside into the mud.
The villagers could only watch — powerless, defeated.
And then… they heard it.
Thud.
A single step, heavy and slow.
Thud.
Again. Closer. Deliberate.
Arlong paused. His ears twitched. The laughter of his crew faded, confusion settling in.
From the darkened path that led through the trees, someone emerged.
A man. Alone.
He walked like the world belonged to him.
He wore a long black cloak, frayed at the bottom from miles of travel, dragging behind him like a shadow. Two thick steel chains crisscrossed his bare chest, glinting in the firelight with every step. His face was unreadable — calm, distant, like someone sleepwalking through a dream made of violence.
His hair was black, untamed, wind-tossed. His eyes—sharp and golden—scanned the scene with neither pity nor anger.
Only silence.
The villagers didn't know him.
Neither did the Straw Hats.
But something in the air changed the moment he appeared. Even the flames seemed to flicker quieter. The tension gripped every throat.
Arlong narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
The man didn't answer.
He stopped near the center of the square, between the wreckage and the sea. His boots pressed into the dirt. He looked at Arlong, then to the others, slowly surveying the wreckage.
Blood. Fire. Cruelty.
His voice finally came. Cold. Dry. Like steel grinding on stone.
"You talk too much."
The words fell like a hammer.
Chew, confused and irritated, lifted his foot off Luffy and stepped toward the stranger. "You got a death wish, freak? You know who you're messing with?"
The man didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't care.
Chew lunged.
And in the next second—
BOOM.
Chew flew backwards as if struck by a cannon. His body crashed into the side of a house, pulverizing wood and stone alike, before falling limp and unconscious. Blood pooled beneath him.
No one saw the punch. Not even Arlong.
The villagers gasped.
Luffy, barely conscious, opened one eye. "What...?"
The man lowered his fist and cracked his neck.
"One down."
Arlong growled, his grip tightening on his weapon. "You've got balls, walking in here like that. Think you're a hero? You'll die like one."
The man finally looked at him.
"I'm not a hero.""I do what I want."
Arlong roared and charged, shark blade raised. "Then die!"
The man didn't move until Arlong was almost on top of him.
And then—
A blur.
A pivot.
A single open palm met Arlong's chest.
CRACK.
A shockwave blew through the square. Dust exploded. The villagers screamed, covering their eyes. When it cleared—
Arlong was on his back, choking, his weapon snapped in two beside him. His chest plate was dented inward, ribs clearly broken.
Arlong gasped in the dirt, blood spilling from his cracked jaw. His weapon was broken. His pride shattered.
The man—Rakan—turned away, cloak swaying, chains clinking faintly in the silence he had carved into the world.
He walked toward Nami.
She stared up at him, stunned, trembling. Her mind struggled to process what had just happened. Arlong—the monster who ruled her life for years—was lying broken at this stranger's feet.
Rakan stopped in front of her. His shadow fell over her like a storm.
He looked down at her — not with softness, but certainty.
"You're mine now."
Not a question. A claim. Not of possession — but of protection. Of fate.
Before Nami could speak, a roar of rage cut through the quiet.
"KILL HIM!"
The remaining Arlong Pirates snapped out of their shock. They surged from every side — axes, swords, spears raised high. Dozens of them, roaring, cursing, desperate to avenge their fallen leader.
Rakan didn't flinch.
He didn't even look at them.
Clang.Clang.Thunk.Crack.
Weapons struck his body—his shoulders, his back, his arms—and shattered or bounced off harmlessly. A spear snapped against his ribs. A sword bent at the hilt. An axe shattered into splinters.
He stood still, cloak rippling gently, eyes still on Nami.
"Annoying."
Suddenly—a deep rumble echoed from the sea.
Everyone turned.
The Arlong Pirates' warship had pulled into the dock, cannons already aimed toward the village. On the deck stood a grinning murloc, scarred and wild-eyed, holding a strange spherical device.
A crimson cannonball, pulsing with power.
The pirate laughed, manic and shrill.
"You think you're untouchable, freak?! Let's see how you handle this! The Buggy Ball!"
He lit the fuse.
Time seemed to slow.
The Buggy Ball screamed through the air — crimson-hot, a roaring sphere of death, fired from the deck of the Arlong Pirates' warship now anchored just off Cocoyashi's coast.
Atop it, a towering, scarred murloc with a crazed grin raised both arms.
"You think you're some kind of monster?! Try surviving this!"
The villagers screamed. Children clutched mothers. Nami froze. The Straw Hats — battered and broken — could only watch, helpless.
The Buggy Ball was closing fast.
Enough to wipe out the entire village.
But one man didn't move.
Rakan.
He stood alone in the center of the square. Black cloak whipping in the wind. Bare chest scarred, carved from war. Two black chains crossed his torso, clinking softly with each breath.
His eyes — golden and still — locked on the incoming death.
He raised one arm.
Just an arm.
No sword.
No haki.
No Devil Fruit aura.
Only flesh, forged in something deeper than hell.
Then—
SHHHHK—KRAA-KA-BOOM!
With a flex of muscle, a flying slash erupted from his bare arm — so fast the air cracked behind it. The shockwave shattered windows. Trees bent.
The Buggy Ball split cleanly in two — sliced at the very core — and fell harmlessly into the sea.
Then exploded, twin fireballs erupting over the bay.
But the slash didn't stop.
It ripped the cannon apart. It tore through the warship's deck. The crazed murloc commander was sliced diagonally — his body fell apart in two perfect halves before he realized he was dead.
The slash continued through the mast, snapped the anchor chain, and split the ship down the keel. It exploded seconds later, raining wood and fire.
In the silence that followed, all that remained was smoke… and Rakan.
He lowered his arm, eyes calm.
But from the jungle paths, the sea, and every street — they came.
Hundreds of them.
The full force of the Arlong Pirates.
More than two hundred strong — murlocs, sea beasts, ocean brutes, deep-water snipers, whale-skinned berserkers — the hidden army.
Drawn by Arlong's fall.
They filled the village square, shoulder to shoulder, sneering, barking, roaring. Their claws clicked on the stone. Their blades gleamed. Spears raised. Crossbows loaded.
Rakan stood alone in their center, surrounded by a flood of teeth and fury.
One massive hammerhead barked, "You're surrounded now, freak!"
Another bellowed, "Rip him apart!"
Nami gasped. "There's too many—"
Zoro whispered, "Can't win this... not alone."
But Rakan said nothing.
Did nothing.
He simply looked around, quietly measuring the sea of enemies.
His fingers flexed.
"Perfect."
Then they charged.
The full force of Arlong's army rushed from all directions — a tidal wave of muscle, blades, poison, fury.
And that's when hell truly began.
The Massacre Begins
The first to reach him swung a rusted cleaver.
Rakan ducked, spun, and ripped the murloc's jaw clean off, blood spraying in an arc as he caved in the skull with one punch.
Two spears thrust at his back — he caught both shafts, yanked them forward, and smashed the wielders together like dolls, bones splintering.
A swordfish leapt at him, blade for a nose — Rakan turned mid-air and shattered its spine with his knee.
"Next."
He was everywhere.
A storm in human skin.
He snatched a flail mid-swing, swung it in a perfect arc, and decapitated three in a single blow. Without slowing, he hurled the spiked ball into the crowd — it exploded into bone and shrieks.
CRUNCH. He stepped forward and drove his fingers into a sea-ogre's chest, grabbed the heart, and crushed it between two fingers.
One archer fired — Rakan caught the bolt with two fingers, threw it back, and nailed the sniper to a wall.
Blood flooded the village square.
Dozens attacked at once — he was surrounded again.
He dropped low, swept their legs, and lifted an entire murloc over his head — then used the screaming body as a club, smashing skulls, tearing spines, crushing ribs.
His cloak dripped with gore.
His arms were soaked in blood.
Still… not a scratch on him.
Terror Spreads
One murloc dropped his weapon and ran.
"W-We can't beat this thing!"
Another screamed, "H-He's not a Human! He's a demon!"
From the rooftop, a brute hurled a flaming barrel. Rakan caught it midair and hurled it back faster, smashing through a dozen pirates in a fireball of death.
"You brought numbers."
He stepped over a twitching body.
"I brought extinction."
They broke.
Even the elite started to run.
But Rakan would not allow mercy.
He blurred forward, faster than the eye could follow, and slammed a fleeing murloc's head into the ground, burying it up to the neck in the stone.
He grabbed one by the mouth and ripped his skull sideways, jaw hanging.
Another raised a shield — Rakan punched through it, through the chest, and out the back.
Dozens tried to escape by sea.
He hurled a corpse into their boat — the force sank it instantly.
The tide turned red.
Silence
By the time it ended… nothing moved.
The square was silent.
The ground painted in blood. Arms. Legs. Crushed jaws. Spilled eyes. Steel twisted into knots. The bodies of Arlong's army were stacked like garbage around the edges of the village.
Only one murloc remained — the youngest. Frozen. Eyes wide. Blade trembling.
Rakan walked toward him slowly.
The boy dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, and crawled away.
Rakan didn't chase.
He simply said, calm and cold:
"Tell the world what you saw."
"Tell them the Beast walks."
The boy ran. Screaming into the jungle, into the night.
Claiming the Future
Rakan turned.
The villagers stared in frozen terror.
Nami stood in the blood-soaked square, knees shaking, tears welling in her wide eyes.
He walked up to her, calm, relaxed, soaked in blood.
"You're mine now," he said again.
"You're under me. My crew. My rule."
She didn't respond — couldn't.
Behind her, Luffy stirred weakly. Zoro groaned. Usopp tried to crawl. Sanji could only stare.
Not one of them understood what they had just witnessed.
Not a pirate.
Not a Marine.
Not a Warlord.
Something… else.
A force.
A storm.
A beast.
And so it began — not with a banner or a fleet, but with slaughter, and a single name whispered in terror:
Rakan.
The Beast who does as he pleases.
Plunder. Kill. Save. Destroy. Rule.
The sea would never forget what happened at Cocoyashi.
Because that day…
The Supreme began his rise.