After handing the Golden Eagle Fruit to Lafitte, he wasted no time devouring it and immediately returned to the Glory, eager to familiarize himself with its powers.
Bucky, too, brought the Clear-Clear Fruit back with him. After bidding farewell to the people they had rescued, he boarded the Glory.
As for the piles of gold and silver treasures, Bucky left them behind. He considered them travel funds and compensation for those captives.
After all, they would need money to make their way home. This could serve as reparation from the villains who had wronged them. For Bucky and his crew, this wealth meant little—they didn't even bother looking twice at it.
Once back aboard, they set sail toward Lubbne. Fifteen days later, they reached their destination—the Lubbne Kingdom.
Compared to the Illusia Kingdom, Lubbne was far less prosperous.
It was a small island nation, but it had its distinctive charm. All its buildings were constructed among mountains of varying heights. The main architectural style was European, with most rooftops made of wood. The environment was lush and verdant, a harmonious blend of nature and human habitation.
When the crew entered the city, they saw lively crowds everywhere. Instead of immediately seeking out Shiryu, they followed local guides on a tour around the city.
Their first stop was the kingdom's most famous landmark: the place where the so-called "Great Liar" Montblanc Noland had been executed three hundred years ago.
A tall stone platform stood there, topped by a statue of Noland—kneeling with his hands bound, flanked by two executioners holding long blades. It was a faithful recreation of his final moments.
This wasn't the original wooden execution platform—such a thing could never have survived three centuries. It had been rebuilt in stone after Noland's name spread across the North Blue and beyond, drawing visitors from afar.
Bucky stared at the statue, at that kneeling figure who had been frozen in humiliation for over three hundred years, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow.
As a pirate fanboy, Bucky knew Noland's story well—and he knew it was all true. The City of Gold, Shandora, had existed. It had simply become part of the Sky Island above.
But Shandora's disappearance had turned Noland's tale into a "lie" in the eyes of the world. People came to see him as nothing more than a teller of tall tales. The entire North Blue—and much of the world—laughed at him.
Noland had paid dearly for it—with his life. Even though he could resist or escape, he had chosen not to. He had met death with calm resolve.
Bucky didn't agree with all of Noland's choices, but he respected that fearlessness—the courage to face death head-on.
At the same time, he felt a deep pity. Even after 300 years, Noland could not rest in peace. His countrymen, along with strangers from across the seas, still mocked him. He had been left kneeling eternally in his homeland, a symbol of scorn.
He had done nothing to betray his country, never deceived his people—yet this was how he was remembered. It was tragic.
Bucky began to entertain a thought—perhaps there was something he could do for Noland.
In the days that followed, Bucky took Jessica to her old home. They found it in ruins: windows shattered, doors broken, the interior ransacked.
It was hardly surprising. In the world of One Piece, an unoccupied house would never be left untouched.
Jessica didn't dwell on the loss. She quickly composed herself. Bucky then asked about her future—whether she wanted to become his crew's cook. If not, he could give her some money and leave her here.
Now was the perfect time to make the offer, and he wasted no time in voicing it.
After some thought, Jessica agreed to join them as their cook. She had no family left, her home was unlivable, and she had no reason to stay.
She had gotten along well with Bucky and his crew, and they were far from the kind of pirates who committed atrocities. Sailing the seas with them seemed like a good choice.
After a day of sightseeing, they spent the night at an inn. The next morning, Bucky began preparing to find Shiryu.
This time, he didn't plan to search aimlessly. Instead, he decided to make Shiryu come to him.
From the information he'd gathered, Bucky knew that Shiryu was honing his swordsmanship by challenging famous swordsmen across the land. His movements were unpredictable, making him hard to track down.
So Bucky devised a plan—set up a challenge platform in the kingdom's central plaza, accept duels from all comers, and make a name for himself. If his reputation grew loud enough, Shiryu would come to him. Then Bucky could make an offer, defeat him in battle, and promise him what he wanted—perhaps winning him over.
That very day, Bucky bribed some officials to gain permission for the dueling stage. Then he spread an outrageously arrogant declaration:
Lubbne's swordsmen were all garbage, and he could defeat every last one of them with ease. To prove it, he would hold an open challenge in the city center, welcoming any swordsman brave enough to face him.
His taunts spread quickly, and many swordsmen came to test themselves, only to be effortlessly defeated, even when Bucky intentionally held back. Not a single one could last more than a few exchanges. The buzz only grew louder over the next few days, drawing even more challengers.
Soon, the rumor reached Shiryu's ears. Hearing of a powerful swordsman in the capital, he set off for the plaza without hesitation.
By the third day, Bucky had just finished defeating an elderly swordsman who was, at least, somewhat impressive, having reached the "Cutting Iron" level. But the man had long since peaked, relying on years of accumulated skill. He was no match for Bucky, who was on a true "swordmaster" level, and was defeated with ease. Bucky didn't spare him any dignity, mocking him just as he had the others. The old swordsman left the stage in shame.
Then Bucky noticed a figure approaching.
The newcomer looked to be in his twenties, over two meters tall, with a broad, powerful build and well-proportioned frame. His jaw was square, a cigar clenched in his teeth, and a crooked, dangerous grin on his lips. He wore a white coat and carried a sword at his waist. One look, and Bucky knew—his target had arrived.
As the man passed through the crowd, the watching swordsmen didn't show the same excitement they had for other challengers. Instead, their faces were filled with fear, as though Death himself were walking past.
"That killer—why did he come here? He's slaughtered so many people, and he still dares to show his face?"
"What's wrong with that? His skill is undeniable. Maybe he'll put an end to this arrogant bastard who's been shaming us."
"Yeah, maybe. Worst case, they both destroy each other. That'd work too… heh heh heh."
Low murmurs rippled through the onlookers. Many of their eyes held a deep hatred, directed at Shiryu, even more than at Bucky.
From the stage, Bucky caught bits of their words. He wasn't surprised. With Shiryu's personality, the number of swordsmen who had fallen to his blade in this country must have been countless. And since swordsmen often had connections to one another, it was natural that many here would hate him.