"Red Hair… you actually lost?"
Dracule Mihawk stared at the headline in disbelief.
At first, he thought it was just sensational journalism, but when he saw a photo of Yasopp's corpse, the reality began to settle in.
From what he knew of Red-Haired Shanks, if he hadn't lost, he would never have let an enemy who killed one of his own escape alive.
Especially not his third-in-command — a man hailed as the world's strongest sniper.
"True Lord Ragnar…?"
"On the day of your ascension, you brought down the Red Hair Pirates, crushed the Whitebeard remnants, and even humiliated the Navy?"
"Excellent."
Mihawk's hawk-like eyes first flashed with a cold glint, before giving way to something else:
A rising heat.
The thrill of battle.
The Black Blade, Yoru, strapped to his back, seemed to stir in response. Though untouched, it pulsed with a killing intent, as if resonating with its master's swelling bloodlust.
A wave of deadly aura spread from the blade — cold and sharp, like a battlefield soaked in the blood of thousands.
"The world's strongest…"
"Is it Whitebeard… or is it you?"
"We'll find out soon enough."
Mihawk whispered and turned away, heading toward his small coffin boat.
He had originally planned to return home and cook.
Now?
That desire was gone.
There was only one thing left he wanted — to meet Shanks.
To hear with his own ears what kind of man Ragnar was.
A man who could defeat Shanks, repel Whitebeard, capture Marco, and beat two admirals so badly they considered jumping into the sea to escape—
Such a man was worth Mihawk's sword.
Alabasta Scene:
Alabasta — In a lavishly furnished room in Rainbase, Crocodile suddenly slammed his palm onto the heavy wooden table before him.
With a gritty crunch, the thousand-pound table — impossible to cleave with an ordinary sword — disintegrated into a pile of sand.
"Are you kidding me?"
"You were repelled… and couldn't even save your own son… Whitebeard."
"How could I, Crocodile, ever lose to a coward like you?"
He glared at the newspaper buried beneath the sand. His right fist trembled, and his body exuded a murderous air — like a monstrous crocodile poised to strike.
From the corner, Nico Robin observed him silently.
Then she glanced down at the sand-covered front page.
"The new emperor… Ragnar?"
Her dusky features remained thoughtful, as always — sharp and perceptive.
"Whitebeard… Whitebeard… Whitebeard…"
"You can only lose to me."
"Until then, I will not accept your defeat — not by anyone else!"
Crocodile's breathing slowly calmed, but rage continued to simmer in his chest.
He didn't understand.
Whitebeard was the man who shattered his dream of becoming Pirate King.
The man who took his left hand.
The man who drove him from the New World like a beaten dog.
Logically, he should have been celebrating.
And yet…
He couldn't stop trembling.
Why did Whitebeard's defeat make him this furious?
Even more baffling — why did he feel an irresistible urge to challenge Ragnar?
"Nico Robin."
"Why are you still standing there?"
"Go find Pluton."
"Don't forget — I didn't take you in out of charity."
At that moment, Crocodile also noticed Nico Robin standing silently in the corner.
"Mr. Crocodile, I'll be there right away."
Robin sensed the impatience and chill in his gaze. Though a coldness crept into her heart, her expression remained calm—neither humble nor arrogant.
"If you understand that, then why are you still going out?"
Crocodile's voice was low, but laced with unmistakable fury.
In this moment, he had completely cast aside his usual calm and measured demeanor.
What remained was a moody tyrant, unpredictable and dangerous.
"Yes."
Realizing that something was off about him, Robin dared not linger. She gave a respectful nod, turned, and quickly left the room.
Just before the door closed, her eyes caught sight of a newspaper partially buried in sand.
Bang.
Her gaze lingered for a brief moment on a photo printed in the center of the page before the door shut fully.
"Ragnar," she whispered to herself.
"The youngest and most powerful emperor in history?"
"Then… he might truly be the one closest to becoming the Pirate King."
Outside the door, Robin leaned against the corridor wall, her thoughts racing.
After years of digging through forbidden history and tracing hidden truths, she understood one thing clearly:
Beyond the World Government, beyond the Celestial Dragons—
There existed one person who could unearth the world's greatest secret.
Not the late Gol D. Roger.
But the next person who could reach Raftel… and claim the title of Pirate King.
"Crocodile…"
Robin's eyes glinted with frost.
Recalling the way he looked at her just moments ago—the cruelty, the mistrust—she no longer hesitated.
Pulling her cloak tight around her, Nico Robin turned and disappeared into the rain-drenched night outside the casino.
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