The world groaned beneath the weight of its wounds.
The chasm that split the island in two widened with every tremor. Seawater poured in, roaring like a beast claiming its prize. The mountain, pierced clean through, resembled a gaping skull. Steam hissed from the fractured earth. The ruins of the town trembled, ready to slide into oblivion.
And in the center of it all, Ragnar sat on a rare, unbroken patch of ground.
In his lap, wrapped in the tattered remains of his bear-fur cloak, Iris slept. Her breathing was soft, her face peaceful—oblivious to the apocalypse her father had unleashed to protect her.
Ragnar's hands, bloodied and bruised, gently stroked her white hair. Against her innocence, they looked monstrous.
He had won.
Through the haze, a Marine ship appeared—stark white against the gray ruin. Figures disembarked, cautious and silent. At their head was Smoker, his cigarillo smoke curling into the steam.
He didn't draw his weapon. He didn't shout.
He simply walked to the crater's edge and looked down.
"You know," Smoker said, voice low, "when they said Weevil was here, I expected some property damage. Not… continental drift."
Ragnar didn't look up. "He was persistent."
Smoker took a drag. "I have orders. From Sengoku. Capture Edward Weevil. And any other high-threat pirate present." He paused. "That includes you."
Ragnar finally looked up. His golden eyes were tired. "Are you going to try?"
Smoker glanced at the chasm, then back at Ragnar. He gave a short, dry laugh. "I'm not suicidal. I wouldn't even know where to start."
He gestured toward the ruins. "But the world will see this. There'll be pictures. A name. And you'll have a bounty. A very, very high one."
Ragnar's shoulders slumped. He had known. But hearing it felt like a sentence.
Smoker's tone shifted. "Just days ago, Fire Fist Ace was captured. Blackbeard handed him over."
Ragnar's head snapped up. A flicker of old pain. Old loyalty.
"For his trouble," Smoker continued, "Blackbeard was offered a seat among the Warlords. You just took down the man who was next in line."
He stepped closer. "You can't run. Not with her. They'll never stop coming. But a Warlord… is a dog the Government protects. A dog they leave alone."
He looked at Iris. "You want peace for her? This might be the only way."
Ragnar looked down at his daughter. Her face was serene. Her dreams untouched by the chaos around her.
He imagined her life on the run. Always afraid. Always hunted.
The Warlord title was a leash.
But it was also a shield.
His choice was never a choice.
"Get me a line to Sengoku," Ragnar said, voice hoarse.
On the deck of the Marine ship, the Den Den Mushi purred to life. Its face morphed into the stern visage of Fleet Admiral Sengoku, his afro bristling with irritation.
"Smoker! Report! What is the meaning of this seismic activity? Our sensors are going haywire!"
"Fleet Admiral," Smoker said grimly. "Weevil has been subdued. The island… is a total loss."
Sengoku's eyes narrowed. "Subdued? By whom?"
Ragnar stepped into frame.
"I don't know you…" he breathed.
"I have Edward Weevil and his handler," Ragnar said. "They're yours. In exchange, I want the open Warlord position."
Silence.
Sengoku processed. Fast.
"You look familiar," he said.
"My name is Ragnar," he replied. "I lived a peaceful life in the mountains not too long ago,"
Another pause.
Then Sengoku's voice returned, firm. "Your request is unorthodox. But the circumstances are unprecedented."
The Den Den Mushi's face hardened. "The deal is accepted. You will be granted the title and immunities of a Warlord of the Sea. You will answer our summons. You will remit a portion of your earnings. And you will not attack World Government officials or their allies. Is that understood?"
"Understood," Ragnar said.
"Then it is done. Welcome to the Shichibukai… Ragnar."
The Den Den Mushi went silent.
Ragnar stood on the deck, the cold sea wind whipping at his bare chest.
The title settled on his shoulders.
Not a crown.
A yoke.
He looked back at the sinking island, where Iris was being tended to by a Marine medic.
He had bought her safety.
And sold his soul.