He could interfere in a battle between emperor-level beings.
He could clash head-on with a Four Emperors-level figure using Haoshoku Haki and remain unshaken.
Across the entire Grand Line…
Only one man had accomplished that.
After watching Aokiji escape into the sea, bloodied and broken, Ragnar neither pursued nor showed anger. Instead, he turned slowly.
His eyes — sharp as a blade honed through countless battles — fixed not on the sea, but on the approaching pirate ship cleaving through the waves.
More precisely, he focused on the man standing at its bow.
Red hair whipped in the wind.
Three distinct scars marked his left eye, only enhancing the overwhelming aura that clung to him like a mantle.
A crisp white shirt, a black cloak fluttering at his shoulders, and the famed saber "Gryphon" hanging at his waist.
There was no mistaking it.
The Haoshoku Haki that split the sky moments ago.
The man who valued face, who commanded even the seas to still — had arrived.
"My apologies."
"This is our first meeting, and I've brought no gift... instead, I've chosen a far more direct way to say hello."
"Master Ragnar."
Facing Ragnar's piercing gaze, Red-Haired Shanks maintained a calm demeanor. There was apology in his tone, but also a subtle force — an iron will beneath velvet words.
"You apologize…" Ragnar said with a cold glint in his eyes.
"And yet your arrival scared away my little pheasant. How shall I settle this debt?"
"Little… pheasant?"
A low murmur passed through the crew of the Red Force.
"He called Aokiji… the little pheasant?"
"Damn... how domineering can a man get?"
"He's not just strong. He's unyielding… even before Red Hair himself!"
Even veteran fighters like Ben Beckman, Lucky Roux, and Yasopp were briefly stunned. As longtime comrades of a man known as the most charismatic of the Yonko, they had seen few who could meet Shanks eye to eye.
But Ragnar was not just fearless. He stood alone and showed no sign of retreat. Not even when facing the man who halted the Marineford War with a word.
The last time they'd seen such force of will...
Was in the face of the Strongest Creature Alive — Kaido of the Beasts.
And now, a second had appeared.
"Although this might sound impertinent..."
"I must still ask you to let this go, Master Ragnar."
"Please give me face — and release Kuzan."
"I will owe you a debt."
Shanks' words were soft-spoken, yet carried a pressure that bent wills. He made no threats. He offered prestige — his reputation, something many nations would bend to gain.
Ragnar gave a cold smile.
The atmosphere around him abruptly twisted — as if gravity itself responded to his mood.
Those without strong Haki felt as if a mountain was pressing down on their lungs. Only Shanks' inner circle remained standing unshaken.
This was not Conqueror's Haki alone.
This was something older, heavier — like the pressure of a world's judgment.
Shanks narrowed his eyes, for the first time sensing genuine unpredictability in Ragnar's spirit.
"If you're willing to accept this favor," Shanks continued, "then you will have the Red Hair Pirates' gratitude."
But his tone subtly shifted — less like a nobleman's gift, more like a warrior's concession.
He had dropped the airs of a Yonko.
"I'm not interested," Ragnar replied flatly, "in your so-called favor."
Shanks' expression remained unchanged, but his voice cooled slightly.
A shadow of seriousness finally emerged from his calm facade.
After all…
Very few in the world had refused Red Hair's face — and still stood tall.
Even when Ragnar had taken the initiative to give ground, offering a gesture of goodwill, the other party still refused to give him any face.
"Then allow me to apologize to Master Ragnar here, first," Shanks said, his tone polite but edged with finality.
A chilling glint passed through the red-haired man's eyes.
"The balance of the Grand Line... the order of this era... cannot be disrupted—not yet."
At that moment, an image surfaced in Shanks' mind.
A young boy, beaming beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat.
The unruly black hair, the confident smile, the glimmer of reckless freedom—it was as if Gol D. Roger himself had been reborn. Monkey D. Luffy, the boy who had inherited his straw hat, his will, and perhaps, his dream.
Ragnar was not the one Shanks was waiting for.
That was why, no matter how powerful the man before him was, Shanks had to stall—he had to buy time for the one destined to shake the world.
"Then what?" Ragnar asked coldly, unmoved by the plea or the warning.
"If Master Ragnar insists on causing chaos," Shanks said, his voice steady, "then I'll be your opponent."
Sensing the impossibility of a peaceful resolution, Red-Haired Shanks abandoned the notion of de-escalation.
With that one sentence, the entire Red Hair Pirates mobilized.
Onboard the Red Force, their flagship, tension surged.
Vice-Captain Ben Beckman, calm and deadly, raised his flintlock and took aim.
Yasopp—the legendary sharpshooter—grinned arrogantly, lifting his sniper rifle with a twirl, fingers relaxed, but ready to fire in an instant.
Lucky Roux, still flipping meat on his skewer, no longer smiled. His gaze turned razor-sharp as killing intent seeped from him like smoke.
Other core members, including Limejuice, Bonk Punch, Monster, and Building Snake, all drew their weapons in sync, surrounding their captain like a phalanx of veterans from countless sea battles.
"To be precise..." Ben Beckman's voice cut through the rising wind, "...it's not just the captain. The entire Red-Haired Pirates will be your opponent."
That declaration was not a bluff.
A suffocating aura erupted from their formation, the condensed killing intent of Yonko-level pirates. The force of their combined Haki stirred the waves and darkened the air, an unspoken promise of bloodshed.
In the nearby sea, the lurking Sea Kings—rulers of the deep—sensed the overwhelming presence of Conqueror's Haki and instinctively fled into the abyss, not daring to remain near this battlefield of monsters.
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