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The world is not fair. Some are born to be stepped on, while others are born to stand on top.
In one way, the world is perfectly just: it gives everyone the power to choose.
You can choose to accept your lot, to live and die as an ant, or you can choose to fight, to claw your way up, no matter what stands in your way.
If there were ever such a thing as a true, heaven-gifted genius, Shanks was it. He was one of the chosen few.
Roger had seen it in him. He had handpicked the kid, trained him for two years, and entrusted him with his will.
Shanks had the mind, the will, and the conviction. A man like that, once he truly understands the world, grows at a terrifying, exponential rate.
Under the crushing pressure of Arthur's rise, Shanks had already condensed his growth, accelerating his timeline. Without even realizing it, he had surpassed his contemporaries such as Mihawk, Crocodile, and Doflamingo.
Shiryu did not know or care about any of that. He knew only his captain.
He had studied Arthur's history. He had seen the man who had been stranded on Jaya, who had spent five years learning the world, and then gambled his life on a single, impossible bet to rocket to the top.
Crazy. Arrogant. Reckless.
A man who lived for the thrill, who made his own rules.
That was a man worth following.
"So, you are the one," Shiryu sneered, his memory sharp. He knew all the stories. He knew about the wager made on Roger's ship eight years ago. "You are the brat who was fool enough to challenge the Captain?"
For Shiryu, his loyalty was absolute, a mirror of Marco's devotion to Whitebeard. In his mind, his captain was the strongest in the world. No one else could compare.
For this red-haired whelp to have challenged that supremacy was an insult that enraged the bloodthirsty swordsman to his core.
"Foolish? Hahahaha! Is that not what life is about?" Shanks laughed, completely unfazed. "A man has to do a few wild, impossible things, right?"
"Shanks, they are here to kill Luffy!" Benn Beckman barked, a cigarette clenched in his teeth. He had seen the bounties, the newspapers.
"Monkey D. Dragon... Monkey D. Luffy! It is the same name."
"Ah. I had forgotten about that." Shanks's expression sobered instantly. He leveled his gaze at Shiryu. "Well. Now that I am here, I cannot exactly let you do that."
He had grown fond of the kid. He saw a spark in him.
"Chinjao," Shiryu commanded, "kill the brat. This one, the one who dared to insult the Captain, is mine. I am going to cut him to pieces."
He drew the Seven Star Sword, and an invisible, razor-sharp aura enveloped him, a domain of pure killing intent.
"Gladly!" Chinjao roared. At the mention of Garp's bloodline, his own rage boiled over. His massive, pointed head hardened with Armament Haki. "A whelp from Garp's line! It is only right that I end him!"
"Eight-Impact Fist—Head Drill!"
He became a spinning vortex of destruction, tearing up the ground as he shot toward Luffy.
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Shiryu's blood was singing. He raised his blade and unleashed a probing slash at Shanks, a test to see what this man was made of.
"Voom..."
The air shimmered. Shanks did not move, but met the invisible attack with a slash of his own. The two forces collided, vibrated, and then dissipated into nothing.
"Well, well," Shiryu said, taking a long drag of his cigar, his eyes glinting. "I thought that after Shiki and Mihawk, there was no one left who could match my blade. It seems I was wrong."
He had fought for the Thunder God Pirates for years. He had butchered his way to the top, his strength second only to the four emperors. He had believed he was on the path to becoming the World's Greatest Swordsman.
To find an equal here, in this backwater, was intoxicating!!
His bloodlust spiked. The ghostly green light of the Seven Star Sword flared. He attacked again, his aura itself condensing into a thousand flying blades, a storm of invisible steel that shrieked through the air.
Shanks stood his ground, his eyes fixed on the oncoming attack and meeting it with a powerful, diagonal slash.
The second wave of attacks shattered.
The two were now locked in a stalemate, a perfect echo of the battle between Arthur and Roger years ago. One attacked and one defended, neither giving an inch.
"Kill... kill you... KILL YOU!"
Shiryu was losing himself to it, his eyes turning a solid, bloody red. He was giving in, letting the cursed blade take over, surrendering to the pure, unadulterated need to kill. He was a demon, a living weapon, his entire world narrowing to the man in front of him.
That was how it seemed.
In reality, his mind was perfectly clear. This "madness" was just a tool, a way to satisfy the sword's thirst while he pushed his own skills, seeking a breakthrough in the heart of the slaughter.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
As Shiryu's power escalated, Shanks's expression grew more serious. He met every blow, his own sword a blur, shattering the invisible blades one after another.
They were moving faster than the human eye could follow, the sound of Gryphon and the Seven Star Sword clashing a high-pitched, ringing shriek.
Every attack was parried.
Every slash was met.
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Meanwhile, a month after leaving Fish-Man Island, Hack and Fisher Tiger finally arrived at their destination: Baltigo.
From the sky, the island looked like a desolate wasteland. It was nothing but barren, windswept rock and sand, without a single tree or building. It was the last place in the world anyone would look for a secret headquarters.
"So," Arthur thought, his Haki piercing the island's surface, "that is where they are hiding. Underground."
He saw it all, and in the very center of the hidden base, he saw him.
"Vegapunk."
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