The giant whirlpool had begun to settle, the dark clouds dispersing as the long-lost sunlight bathed the deck of the Oro Jackson. Yet, even the warm rays couldn't fully dispel the heavy mixture of blood, salt, and the acrid scent of gunpowder lingering in the air.
All around them, the remnants of the battle-scattered ships dragged their damaged hulls across the sea, fleeing the aftermath in a slow, pained retreat.
Kyle leaned casually against the ship's railing, scanning the horizon with the detached gaze of a seasoned observer. His golden eyes flitted over the chaos like a predator assessing the territory.
On the bow of a floating ship nearby, Shiki, the Golden Lion, roared with manic delight, his figure silhouetted against the sunlight. His laughter rang across the waters, wild and unrestrained, filled with both unyielding pride and the bitterness of defeat.
Kyle's gaze shifted. Charlotte Linlin wandered the deck of another vessel, calling Kaido's name. Her eyes burned with frustration and uncontainable hunger; the intensity of her gaze suggested she might devour anyone within arm's reach.
And there, on the bow of a small, battered boat, Edward Newgate, the legendary Whitebeard, stood silently. His back, broad and imposing, resembled a mountain against the tumultuous waves, his calm presence radiating the weight of decades of battle and authority.
The once-mighty Rocks Pirates, that colossal force which had suffocated the world with its terror, had completely disintegrated today.
Kyle's lips curved into a sly smile. Alright, a quick glance reveals the truth—they're all actors in their own spectacle. Every human and ghost alike is putting on a show… only Rocks got humbled for real.
"Little ones! I'm back!"
A powerful, booming voice shattered the temporary calm, carrying warmth and authority in equal measure.
All heads turned instinctively toward the sound. From a drifting piece of wood, bloodied but unbroken, Roger climbed onto the Oro Jackson's deck.
With a resounding thud, Roger landed firmly, the wooden planks groaning under his weight. Instantly, he sprang to his feet, spread his arms wide, and offered a grin brighter than the midday sun.
"It's time for a feast!"
"Captain!" "Roger!"
The crew surged forward, hands outstretched, lifting their captain with a mixture of respect and joy.
Rayleigh, frowning but quietly relieved, pulled a bundle of bandages from his vest. "You idiot… at least let me patch you up first…"
Roger ignored him, already unscrewing the cork of a barrel of rum and taking a long gulp. The bitter tang and fiery warmth washed away the fatigue and pain of battle, replaced instantly with the elation of survival and victory.
The deck quickly transformed into a scene of celebration. Barrels of wine and roasted meat were distributed, and the injured crew members found places to sit, tending to their wounds while eagerly recounting the thrilling events they had survived.
"Hahaha! Did you see Rocks' face at the end? Priceless!"
"Garp's punch… even I felt the tremors on the ship!"
"But if we're talking about who profited the most this time…"
Jabba, bandaging his own arm, cast a sly glance toward Kyle, who lounged in the corner, sipping orange juice as though nothing had happened. Behind him, a small mountain of sacks hinted at untold treasures.
The crew's attention snapped to Kyle. Their cheers were instant, eyes wide with curiosity and envy.
Roger, finishing his rum, laughed heartily and clapped Kyle on the shoulder. "You're right, Kyle! While we fought for our lives, you went and cleaned out the Celestial Dragons' home! Truly spectacular!"
Kyle shrugged, adopting an air of casual detachment. "Professional matters should be handled by professionals. You fight, I get rich. Tactical division of labor—simple and effective."
Indeed, Roger's goal had been singular: defeat Rocks. But Kyle's mind had been occupied with more… pragmatic considerations.
"Enough talking! Hurry up and open them, let's see what treasures you've scavenged!" Jabba could contain himself no longer. His hands trembled with anticipation as he approached.
"Yeah! Show us the spoils!"
"Let me see what the Celestial Dragons had in store!"
Amidst the cheers, Kyle's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he nudged the sacks with his foot.
"Alright, alright, finders keepers."
The crew erupted into action, piling around the treasure like excited children.
Golden Berries, gleaming jewels, diamond-studded artworks—all were poured onto the deck in a chaotic, dazzling torrent. Sunlight caught the facets of gemstones, sending blinding sparkles dancing across the deck.
"We're rich!"
"New weapons! New supplies!"
Crew members scrambled joyfully, scuttling over each other like overexcited marmots. Kyle, however, remained perfectly at ease, allowing them to divide the spoils. His eyes, calculating and discerning, scanned the ornate boxes he had liberated. Most contained little more than gold and silver—material Kyle had no real interest in.
Money? Too mundane.
Just then, Roger approached a particularly luxurious box, inlaid with pearls and gold. He struggled under its weight.
"Why is this one so heavy? There must be something enormous inside!" he shouted, calling a few companions to help lift it.
"One… two… three… open!"
Together, the crew lifted the lid. Expectation filled the air, but what emerged was nothing like gold, jewels, or Devil Fruits.
Nestled in soft, velvet lining was… a sleeping infant.
The baby's face was rosy, lips slightly parted, and atop its head, a vibrant, flame-like mane of red hair glowed brilliantly even under the sun.
The deck fell into sudden, stunned silence.
Time seemed to freeze.
"…"
"…"
"Kyle—!"
Rayleigh was the first to break the silence, practically roaring at him. "You… you even steal babies?!"
Kyle froze, hands raised in mock innocence. "I didn't do this! I swear! Who knew there'd be a child inside?"
He hurried to the box, kneeling beside it. The iconic red hair struck him like lightning. His mind went blank, heart skipping.
The Golden… Red Legend.
In an absurd twist of fate, Kyle had not only witnessed history—he had stumbled directly into it. God Valley's treasures were plundered, Celestial Dragons hunted, Rocks' era ended, and Roger's ascent cemented. Yet now, fate thrust the infant destined to become a Four Emperor, the future holder of Luffy's straw hat, directly into Kyle's hands.
He stared down at the tiny figure, realizing the magnitude of the moment. This wasn't just plunder—it was history incarnate, a living symbol of a future that would shake the world.
Kyle inhaled sharply, heart pounding. MVP of God Valley? Without question.
The rest of the crew, heroic and capable as they were, had merely ridden the wave. Kyle alone had navigated the chaos, seized treasures, and now, unintentionally, held the seed of legend itself.
He gently adjusted the baby, a mix of awe, amusement, and mischief in his expression. Around him, the crew whispered in shock and wonder, realizing that history had unfolded in the most unexpected way..
The Oro Jackson rocked gently on the sunlit sea, sails fluttering, as Kyle—still marveling at his unintended role in this legendary moment—looked toward the horizon.
The Golden Legend had been born, and Kyle had, for a brief, chaotic instant, become more than a witness—he had become a silent part of history itself.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)