Shiki knew, with the certainty of a man who had gambled and lost everything once before, that the possibility of reclaiming his former glory was infinitesimally slim.
But as long as there was even a sliver of hope, he was willing to give everything to seize it.
In this world where the strong prey on the weak, only by becoming stronger could one truly survive, let alone change their fate.
With this thought, a new, dangerous light ignited in Shiki's eyes.
It was as if he could suddenly pierce through the barriers of time and space, witnessing a glorious vision of himself once again reigning supreme, his dominance over the skies restored.
This vision burned like wildfire in his heart, and he could no longer suppress the desperate, raw excitement and longing within him.
He abruptly raised his head, his gaze as sharp as his sword-legs, locking onto Ron.
His voice, for the first time, carried a barely concealed tremor of anticipation.
"L-Little… uh… Ron. How do we collaborate?"
Ron smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting a calm, reassuring confidence.
"Excellent, Shiki-san. In the near future, I guarantee you will feel deeply lucky by the choice you made today." Ron had no intention of fighting the old lion.
If he could avoid direct conflict and have this former overlord of the seas willingly become his partner, that would naturally be the best possible outcome.
Then, Ron slowly turned his gaze to Doflamingo, his tone just as composed.
"Joker. Your order of twenty Devil Fruits will be delivered within the week. Additionally, regarding this new collaboration…"
Before Ron could finish, Doflamingo interrupted him with a burst of near-fanatical enthusiasm, his signature, grating laughter brimming with unrestrained excitement.
"FUFFUFFUFFUFFU! With pleasure, Ron! I'm in!" His eyes flickered with a complex web of ambition and opportunity, clearly unable to wait any longer to get his hands on this new power.
******
The Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Within the Chamber of Authority, at the absolute center of the world, the Five Elders sat upright on the sofas, their expressions solemn and grim.
None of them spoke.
They were waiting.
The atmosphere in the grand hall was unusually tense, so heavy and still that it felt as if the very air had frozen solid.
Just then, the massive, ornate doors creaked open, and a single figure shrouded in a simple black robe slowly entered the room.
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn was the first to look up, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile actually appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"We've been waiting for you… Red Hair."
Saint Nusjuro, who was calmly cradling his long sword, the Shodai Kitetsu, also looked up at the newcomer, his eyes revealing a deep, ingrained wariness.
"We have gathered here specifically to wait for you," he added, his tone somewhat ingratiating, a rare deference shown to a pirate.
"That's right," Saint Topman Warcury chimed in, his voice a low grumble.
"We have already shown you considerable respect by granting this audience."
The others also turned their gazes toward Red Hair Shanks, their expressions a complex mixture of emotions toward this Emperor of the Sea.
Their eyes seemed to hold both a reluctant anticipation and a deep-seated mistrust.
After all, Shanks was not only one of the Four Emperors but also a constant, unpredictable thorn in the side of the World Government.
Combined with his true, hidden identity, he was more than worth their deliberate wait.
At that moment, Red Hair stopped before their table.
He pulled back the hood of his black robe, revealing his face.
His signature red hair gleamed strikingly under the chamber's ethereal light.
He wore a faint smile, but his eyes were unusually resolute and serious.
"The balance," he spoke slowly, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable warning to the five most powerful men in the world.
"Must not be broken."
Hearing this, Saturn snorted coldly, unable to suppress his anger.
His voice was filled with a furious dissatisfaction, his sharp gaze like a blade.
"We have always maintained the balance, Shanks. You know as well as we do that it was Whitebeard who disrupted it!" His voice rose slightly, trembling with a barely contained rage.
"His rampage at Marineford has caused immeasurable, perhaps irreparable, damage to the World Government's prestige!"
The other Elders sensed Saturn's anger.
They exchanged glances, a silent, shared understanding passing between them.
Whitebeard's actions had indeed caught them completely off guard.
This pirate, once considered a controllable decaying factor, had now become an existence entirely beyond their grasp.
The air grew thick with tension.
But Saturn's next words struck Shanks like a physical blow, causing his pupils to contract involuntarily.
"Red Hair, what is your assessment of Whitebeard's Rumble-Rumble Fruit?"
Shanks frowned slightly.
"You mean his Raijin form?" he asked, his tone now laced with a hint of uncertainty.
The others nodded, their eyes conveying their expectations.
"During your confrontation with him," one of them inquired, "did you sense that his Rumble-Rumble Fruit had awakened?"
"Awakened?" Shanks' frown deepened.
He carefully recalled the image of Whitebeard's colossal, lightning-wreathed form, the overwhelming pressure, the sheer, world-ending power.
He replayed the sensation of their clash in his mind.
Then, he shook his head slightly, his voice firm.
"No. It couldn't have been an Awakening."
Hearing Shanks' conclusion, the furrowed brows of the Five Elders relaxed.
A collective look of profound relief appeared on their faces.
As long as it wasn't a true Logia-type Awakening, the situation, while dire, was not yet hopeless.
Then, Nusjuro abruptly shifted the topic back to the present crisis.
He spoke slowly, his voice heavy with strategic concern.
"Red Hair, whether it was an awakening or not, Whitebeard's current strength has already shattered the balance of the seas. Nowadays, wherever he goes, the Marines are left in a completely passive position. A single Admiral is no longer a match for him. At least two Admirals are needed just to barely restrain him."
He trailed off, but the implication was clear—they simply lacked the manpower to keep the newly empowered Whitebeard in check.
Shanks listened calmly, already fully aware of their intentions.
They were using the Marines' lack of strength as an excuse to rope him into action, to treat him, an Emperor of the Sea, as their free labor to solve a problem they couldn't handle.
"Hmph! I refuse to believe you don't have a solution of your own," Shanks retorted coldly, a flash of disdain in his eyes.
He knew their schemes, but they seemed to have forgotten—he wasn't a pawn to be so easily manipulated.
Nusjuro and the others exchanged glances, awkward smiles appearing on their ancient faces.
They knew Shanks wasn't a fool.
Saturn frowned, his expression grave as he spoke with a new urgency.
"We are already devising a way to deal with Whitebeard, but it will take time. Time we may not have."
Nusjuro, however, was more direct.
He picked up a fresh newspaper from the table and unceremoniously tossed it in front of Shanks.
"Take a look for yourself," he said, his voice grim.
"The Whitebeard Pirates' vice-captain, Ron, clearly has no intention of giving us that opportunity."
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