Gern's words did more than rip open the ambition Golden Lion had sealed away for twenty years—
They were like a massive hammer, smashing mercilessly into the pride that had already been riddled with cracks.
His body—supported only by the twin swords that served as prosthetic legs—staggered under the tremendous shock to his mind and spirit.
With a dull thud, Golden Lion collapsed back onto the deck in a sorry sprawl.
He lay there, head tilted back, staring at the figure standing before him—Gern Reginald Sigmar, dark-purple arcs of Conqueror's Haki coiling around his body like lightning.
The afterglow of the setting sun traced his silhouette in gold, making him look overwhelmingly powerful—and…
Possessed of a terrifying, soul-capturing charisma that seemed to demand dominion over everything.
"This man… this presence…"
In Golden Lion's mind, an old memory surfaced unbidden: the day, long ago, when he had boldly invited Roger to join forces with him.
If… if back then, he himself had possessed this same kind of magnetism—this overwhelming allure that made others instinctively want to follow his ambition—
Would that bastard Roger… have agreed?
"The world…"
That word echoed in his heart like a curse.
That existence at God Valley—the one that had crushed Rocks, and shattered the first time he had ever truly wanted to submit himself to someone—
That colossal entity symbolizing the pinnacle of the world's power…
And now, standing before him, was a man with more potential than Rocks, younger, bolder, more decisive—
"Can he… really do it?" Golden Lion sneered inwardly.
The hot blood that had lain dormant for twenty years felt as though a red-hot branding iron had been plunged into it. An indescribable impulse surged up, nearly bursting through the dam of his reason!
For a fleeting instant, he almost blurted out a single word:
"Yes."
But just as the answer was about to force its way past his lips, his gaze fell—uncontrollably—
To his empty trouser legs, and to the famed blades Oto and Kogarashi, coldly fixed to his leg bones in place of feet.
These "legs" reminded him every single moment that he had already lost the freedom to soar across the skies.
Then he looked at his hands—hands that had once gripped blades and stirred up hurricanes and monstrous waves, but now, after twenty years without truly wielding a weapon—
A tide named "reality" surged forth, instantly drowning the fragile flame that had just ignited.
"I… am no longer the Golden Lion who conquered the skies…"
"Nor am I the Flying Admiral who dared abandon everything and storm Marineford alone…"
The boundless arrogance that once looked down on the world had been worn smooth by time, leaving behind only a hollow powerlessness.
"I'm old…"
"And… weak now…"
And with Rocks long dead, Golden Lion could never again place himself beneath another—if he did, he would truly despise himself.
In fact, at this very moment, he found himself wishing—absurdly—that Gern had been born in the same era as Rocks.
Because maybe… just maybe… this man really was someone the younger, ferocious "Extreme Path" Golden Lion might have chosen to follow.
And so, the stirring in his heart—the impulse and excitement that had flared up—
Deflated like a punctured balloon, rapidly withering away.
Golden Lion slowly—almost dejectedly—lowered the head that had once always been held high.
He didn't answer.
But the heavy silence, and his faintly trembling shoulders, said everything.
He had retreated.
Not because he didn't want to—
But because… he couldn't.
"Shiki! What the hell are you doing?!"
At that moment, Gern suddenly barked out, unaware of Shiki's inner turmoil. The shout jolted Golden Lion out of his spiral of self-denial.
Shiki raised his head, a mocking smile twisting across his face.
"What am I doing? I'm old, that's what! You Navy brat!"
He pointed to the ship's wheel embedded deep into his skull, pressing against his nerves, then slapped the famed blades that formed his prosthetic legs.
"And this… this… and these hands that haven't truly gripped a sword in twenty years! Hahahaha!! What do you think I can do?!"
The laughter was soaked in boundless bitterness and unwilling resignation.
"Let me put it bluntly…" Golden Lion's gaze grew hollow.
"With how I am now, if you wanted to kill me, you wouldn't even need thirty percent of your strength, would you?
"Or rather… even some pirate with a bit of talent—someone who's managed to make it into the latter half of the New World—
"Could probably make me look pathetic… humiliate me completely… couldn't they?"
It sounded like he was questioning Gern.
But it also sounded like he was interrogating himself.
The abyss between the pride of someone who once stood at the summit and the shattered reality of the present threatened to swallow him whole.
Watching this former legend expose such vulnerability and self-destructive despair, Gern fell silent for a moment.
He didn't try to comfort him. He didn't refute him.
Instead, he slowly crouched down, bringing his eyes level with Golden Lion's as he sat on the deck.
"Shiki," Gern said quietly. "Have you ever heard of… the Op-Op Fruit?"
"Hm?" Golden Lion's unfocused eyes sharpened slightly.
[So this man really did come prepared.]
"That's right," Gern continued evenly. "A Devil Fruit whose surgical abilities can only be described as a 'miracle of the world.'
"Its user can perform operations of unimaginable precision—procedures so perfect they border on the miraculous…"
His gaze swept over the ship's wheel embedded in Shiki's head, then over his legs.
"In other words, someone with that fruit could easily remove that damned wheel from your skull—perfectly intact—without harming you in the slightest."
"And they could also… transplant for you a brand-new pair of legs. Whole. Complete. Truly yours again."
"Or… even stronger 'legs.'"
"!!!"
The instant Gern finished speaking, the pupils that had been dull and filled with self-mockery shrank to pinpoints.
The muscles in Golden Lion's face locked rigid, his breathing nearly stopping altogether.
He jerked his head up, staring in disbelief at Gern's calm face just inches away, desperately searching for even the slightest trace of a joke.
The Op-Op Fruit?!
Remove the wheel?!
Transplant legs?!
This… this was impossible! Such a god-defying Devil Fruit power could really exist?!
But if… if it was true…
No—this Navy brat had no reason to lie to him!
Which meant—
A scorching surge of emotion—woven from overwhelming desire, shock, and a hope that felt like ashes reigniting—smashed through the walls of despair Shiki had just built, slamming straight into his heart!
No true powerhouse could resist such temptation.
Especially not Golden Lion—one of the two youngest among Rocks' four great members back then, now only seven years older than Kaido.
And most importantly—
As a man who once ruled the skies, he could never refuse the chance to return to his peak.
Golden Lion's trembling hand clenched unconsciously, fingernails biting deep into his palm.
At the same time, a new thought took shape in his mind.
"Hey… Navy brat."
"You've just offered me a temptation I absolutely—absolutely—cannot refuse!!!"
..…
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