The island had no name.
Once, it had been a jewel of the New World—an untouched sanctuary bursting with life, its skies alive with the cries of seabirds, its shores lapped by crystal waters. Now it was a graveyard. The trees stood like blackened skeletons against a blood-red horizon, and the shoreline was littered with the remnants of beasts and ships alike. The air itself seemed to rot in the lungs.
On the edge of that lifeless shore stood a man the world still believed to be long dead—Rocks D. Xebec. But Xebec was anything but dead.
He had returned from the abyss, his strength swelling with each passing day, far eclipsing even the fearsome height of his former prime. And yet, one chain bound him still—the wild, unrelenting will of his Devil Fruit. He could feel it constantly gnawing at him, not merely a power to be wielded, but a presence. A hunger.
Long ago, he had coveted two fruits: one for himself, and one for Harald, the stubborn friend who had refused again and again to join his crew… until death made the question meaningless. That friendship—those bonds—were ashes now, scattered to the wind.
The will inside him was not merely his own. Xebec was certain that the fruit he had consumed housed the will of something ancient… something divine. A god's will, no less potent than the fabled Nika. And gods, he knew, did not like to be chained.
His thoughts were interrupted by movement. He had sensed them long before they came into view.Three figures emerged from the ashen treeline: Linlin, Izumi, and Dorian—the ones he had dragged back from death's grasp.
Dorian was the first to speak, his voice a mixture of bitterness and exhaustion.
"How long are we going to rot on these forsaken rocks? Why not just tell the world you're alive and be done with it?" He spat the words, though not with true defiance.
When Xebec had returned him to life, Dorian had felt elation. But that joy had rotted quickly into resentment. The tether that bound him to Xebec's will was invisible yet absolute—he could think for himself, yes, but he could not act outside of Xebec's command.
Xebec did not even turn to face him. His head shifted only slightly, just enough for his gaze to catch Linlin in the periphery.
"Have you found what I asked of you… Linlin?" His voice was low, carrying the weight of command.
Out of the three, Linlin was the most valuable—not for her strength, but for her reach. Once, when she ruled the seas as one of its Emperors, her network of spies and informants stretched across oceans. Even during their time together as Rocks Pirates, Xebec had relied on her for information.
She sneered, her laughter cutting through the stagnant air. "Mamamama… Xebec, have you forgotten I've been dead once already? My networks didn't wait for me to come back—they've been swallowed up by others. But… give me freedom, let me announce to the world that I live, and I will rebuild what I've lost. I can get you the information you want."
Xebec's eyes narrowed. He knew her too well to fall for her ploy. Charlotte Linlin was cunning to her marrow. The world might remember her as a ravenous glutton and a storm of violence, but Xebec had always known the truth—she was far more dangerous than her image suggested.
And her Devil Fruit… that was the true threat. The power to manipulate and command souls themselves was a blade poised perfectly to sever the shackle his ability placed upon hers. He had brought her back, yes. But he would never trust her.
"It is not yet time for the world to know you breathe again," he said coldly. "Izumi and Dorian can handle what needs to be done outside. That much, they are capable of."
Linlin's eyes glinted with dangerous amusement, but she said nothing more. The waves crashed weakly against the blackened rocks, as if even the ocean itself dared not roar too loudly in Xebec's presence.
"Well… it's not like I couldn't gather some information," Linlin said at last, her voice a silky taunt. "Some of my underworld connections still breathe… for now." She spoke with a lazy confidence, but her eyes never left Xebec's face, searching for the smallest flicker of reaction.
Xebec didn't blink. "So," he said, his voice deep and patient in the way of a predator about to strike, "did you find what I asked of you?"
He raised one hand toward the sea. The waters responded instantly—blackened, hissing, corroding as if some unseen venom seeped into them. Tendrils of pitch-dark liquid rose from the waves, twisting and dancing around his outstretched fingers like serpents obeying their master.
Linlin's smirk thinned. "Heh… did you think finding the Gallelia was that simple? Even Elbaf speaks of them as nothing more than old ghost stories. How do you expect me to find ancient giants when the giants themselves believe them to be myth?"
She had been chasing whispers of the Gallelia since God Valley. Decades had passed. Even at the peak of her power, with the full force of her information network scouring the seas, she hadn't uncovered so much as a broken shard of truth. And now, most of her network had been devoured by rivals and scavengers. To find even a whisper would take a miracle.
"And even if I did," she added, her tone turning dry, "all you'd find would be fossilized corpses. What exactly do you intend to do wi—"
Her words faltered as Xebec finally turned to face her. The black ink-like substance now coiled along his entire arm, swirling faster, hungrier, as if feeding on his intent.
"Vohahahaha…" His grin split wide, cruel and knowing. "It seems you finally understand, Linlin. I don't need them alive. If you bring me even a cold corpse frozen a thousand years… that is all I require."
The realization hit her like a hammer. Wasn't she herself proof enough? She had been dead once—and yet here she stood, pulled back into the world by his will. If he found the Gallelia, even as corpses, he could raise them. Bind them. Command them.
Dorian broke the silence with a careless shrug, though his eyes betrayed his bitterness.
"Wouldn't it be easier to just sail to Elbaf, ask your old friend Harald, and take the fruit while we're there? You've said yourself the Devil Fruit's still on Elbaf. We could snatch it, and maybe your friend would tell us what he knows about your precious ancient shipwrights."
There was venom in his casual tone. In life, Dorian had been chaos incarnate, a man who thrived on the New World's storms. Now he was a chained beast, wearing the false title of Shichibukai—a weapon in Xebec's hand, his will shackled to the madman's commands. The knowledge gnawed at him, even as he masked it in mockery.
Izumi's voice came next—cold, precise, each word aimed like a blade. "Maybe… you think your old friend wouldn't recognize you anymore. Is that it? The man who wants to bury the world is afraid to face one man."
Xebec's gaze flicked toward her, dangerous but silent.
"Why else," she continued, "did you leave Elbaf the last time without seeing King Harald?"
The air tightened. The waves around the island slowed, as if the sea itself were listening. Izumi's words had found their mark—there was something, some unspoken shadow, that had held Xebec back before. And now they all knew.
"No," Xebec said flatly, his tone a wall no one could breach. "We will not approach Elbaf. Not now. Not while it's being watched."
His gaze shifted from the horizon to each of them in turn, cold and assessing. "We are not the only ones who know the truth—that the key to ruling this world lies with the giants. And as for the Devil Fruit… even if we took it, it would be meaningless in our hands. Only a giant can awaken its true potential. Only that power could help us face the… thing ruling from the shadows."
There was weight in his voice when he said thing, an almost imperceptible hesitation. Izumi caught it. Dorian caught it. Linlin certainly caught it. Whatever Xebec wasn't saying hung between them like the shadow of a leviathan deep beneath the waves.
Linlin's smirk broke the moment. "Speaking of old friends," she purred, "I came across another… interesting piece of information. It seems our dear Shiki is whole again. Regrown his limb. He was spotted leaving Donquixote territory." Her chuckle was low and rich, but her eyes were sharp, measuring.
What she didn't say—what she wouldn't say—was that the truth was half a lie. Her source had seen Shiki whole, yes, but far from the New World, deep in the Calm Belt. She wanted to see if she could set this monster against another… the same monster who had sent her to her grave the first time.
Xebec's brow furrowed slightly, not in disbelief but in interest. In a world of miracles and monstrosities, regenerating a limb was hardly impossible. But he had known Linlin far too long to miss the scent of manipulation.
"Isn't that the brat who sent you to meet your maker?" he asked, voice edged with mockery. "You couldn't best him, so you'd like me to clear the path for your revenge? Sinister, Linlin. Very sinister." A slow grin crept across his face. "Still… I've been curious about that boy."
Rosinante. The name had been a faint echo in Xebec's mind until Linlin's resurrection. Since then, it had come up more often—especially from her lips. She had been killed by his hand, and the obsession for vengeance burned in her like a coal. If Xebec's power did not bind her, she would have sailed to Dressrosa long ago to tear him apart.
"A Celestial Dragon turned pirate," Xebec mused, his voice almost admiring. "That's a dangerous combination. Especially if those brothers truly carry the bloodline their name suggests." He knew more of such matters than most, and the thought of such a pedigree walking the seas was… intriguing. Even more so after hearing of the boy's battle against Garp on Sabaody.
"Garp…" The word tasted of old grudges. "I know that man's strength better than anyone. It was his fist and Roger's blade together that brought me down the first time. And this boy survived him?"
A low chuckle escaped him. He understood now why Linlin had dragged this old warning into the light again after nearly a year of silence.
"Not just survived," Linlin said, her tone sharpening. "He's been seen with Newgate. If I'm right, he's tied to both Shiki and Newgate now. Ignore him, and sooner or later you'll learn the same hard lesson I did."
Xebec's grin widened, splitting into something almost wolfish. "Vohahahaha… Linlin, death has made you timid. You'd have me fear a whelp who doesn't even know the first truth about this world? Because he killed some overbloated fool parading as an Emperor?"
The insult landed exactly where he intended—squarely on the bloated Big Mom Linlin had once become, heavy with indulgence and countless pregnancies. But she said nothing. She swallowed the barb because she knew it was true. She had underestimated the boy once, thought of him as nothing but an ant… and paid with her life.
Xebec, however, saw no threat. Not in Rosinante. Not yet. In his mind, the boy was just another piece on the board—one that might prove useful, or one that might be broken. And in Xebec's world, both outcomes were equally acceptable.
"Anything else you've uncovered, Linlin?" Xebec's voice was a cold blade, cutting through the stagnant air. "Because if this is all you've managed to scrape together, then I am… sorely disappointed."
He didn't look at her directly, but the contempt in his tone was sharper than steel. "It seems death has not only made you timid… it's dulled your edge entirely. Makes me wonder if it was a mistake to bring you back… while granting Scarlett her freedom."
The name hit Linlin like a slap. Her lip curled in an unguarded sneer. Scarlett. The woman who now sat upon her throne. The one commanding what was left of the Big Mom Pirates, reshaped and reborn as the Bloodsteel Pirates.
Scarlett hadn't been resurrected like the rest of them—no, she had been Xebec's first experiment. Back then, he was still learning the dark intricacies of his Devil Fruit's power. He had restored her youth and vitality without binding her soul to him, granting her a second life entirely free of his shackles. Her debt to him had been settled in blood and betrayal—when she delivered Linlin's corpse to Xebec.
Linlin could still remember that moment with a clarity that burned—the indignity of it, the cold truth that her own death had been bartered away like coin. Xebec had raised her from the grave afterward, but not out of kindness. Never kindness. She was a weapon, an asset to be used until she broke or proved her worth again.
Scarlett, meanwhile, roamed free, ruling in Linlin's stead, her fleets flying crimson and steel across the New World's seas. A constant reminder that Linlin's power was no longer truly hers. Linlin forced her sneer into a smile, hiding the molten anger beneath. She would not give Xebec the satisfaction of seeing the wound. Not yet.
"Well," Izumi said, her voice carrying that calm, measured quality that always seemed to mask something dangerous beneath, "the Donquixote brothers may not be the only ones with the blood of the Celestial Dragons to take up piracy."
The words caught Xebec's attention immediately—not because of the novelty, but because Izumi rarely spoke unless the information was worth hearing.
She continued, her gaze steady. "I came across this by chance. My position as Shichibukai grants me access to… conversations and files most pirates will never see. This particular piece was delivered to me by a Cipher Pol agent who thought to use it as leverage, perhaps for his safety." She smirked faintly. "He didn't live long enough to see the flaw in that plan. I was certain the World Government—especially the Figarland family—would not want this connection known."
Xebec turned to face her fully now. Izumi's tone was calm, but there was something in the way she spoke that suggested she had enjoyed eliminating the man.
"It seems," she went on, "that the blood of the Figarland family has also taken to piracy. The budding Supernova… Shanks. I can't say under what circumstances he became a pirate, but the resemblance is undeniable. Shanks is Figarland by blood."
Xebec's eyes narrowed. The name rang faint echoes in his mind, but it was the family name that truly set his thoughts turning. A possibility—half a memory—stirred.
"Do you have a bounty poster of this pirate?" he asked. His voice was even, but there was an edge of anticipation. Without hesitation, Izumi produced a poster from the sleeve of her silk cheongsam and handed it to him.
Xebec's gaze fell on the image. Recognition struck immediately. Figarland Garling. The boy bore the man's face.
Garling—one of the few true Celestial Dragons with genuine martial pedigree, and the only one who had once fought Edward Newgate to a standstill. The kind of man who didn't just wield status, but power. If this red-haired upstart was truly his spawn, then Xebec smelled opportunity.
Oh, how tempting it would be to stir that hornet's nest—to see if the shadowy commander of the God's Knights would move openly if his blood was threatened.
"Vohahahaha…" The laugh rolled from Xebec's chest like distant thunder. He turned his head toward Dorian. "You've been restless lately, haven't you? Complaining there's nothing worth your time?"
Dorian's eyes lit up immediately.
"I have a task for you," Xebec continued. "Isn't it the duty of a Shichibukai to eliminate threats that might upset the balance of the sea? Consider this… an official service. Get rid of this brat. I want to see whether he's truly embraced piracy… or if this is just another piece of the World Government's theater."
Xebec would not put it past the world's rulers to plant a Celestial Dragon in the pirate ranks for some grander scheme. The higher one climbed, the more elaborate the deceptions became.
Dorian's grin widened into something cruel as he reached for the poster. "Finally… I get to stretch my hands. Let's see…"
[WANTED]
[DEAD OR ALIVE]
[SHANKS]
[669,900,000 BERRIES]
"A mere rookie with such a bounty?" Dorian chuckled darkly. "Interesting. But tell me, can't I have Rosinante instead? That one seems… a much more decent challenge."
From the side, Linlin scoffed openly. She didn't know the red-haired brat's true measure, but Rosinante… she knew all too well. She had faced him in life—and lost. If Dorian truly believed he could challenge that brat, then Xebec might soon find himself with one less puppet to command.
And Linlin would welcome that. She was certain that even with the unnatural regeneration Xebec's power granted, Rosinante could crush Dorian like a bug. But she kept her thoughts to herself. If Dorian threw himself into that particular grave, so much the better.
Izumi's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Who knows? You might get lucky," she said lightly. "Rumor has it, Shanks and Rosinante are… acquainted."
That made Dorian's grin sharper, his eyes glinting with savage amusement. But Xebec… Xebec's gaze darkened, and none of them seemed to notice.
To others, this might look like coincidence—names overlapping, threads tangling without design. But to Xebec, patterns were everything. Rosinante's name was appearing too often, always orbiting matters of consequence. It was like a whisper threading through every storm, a shadow at the edge of every flame.
He had dismissed the boy before as nothing more than a pawn—an anomaly to be crushed when the time was convenient. But now… Linlin's earlier warning came back to him, irritating in its persistence. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was merit in watching the brat.
After all, it had been his pride that had brought him down the first time. And Rocks D. Xebec was not the kind of man to make the same mistake twice.
"Dorian," Xebec said at last, his voice quiet but unyielding, "stick to the red-haired one. Leave the brat Rosinante alone—for now. His time will come."
There was something in his tone that made even Dorian's smirk falter for a fraction of a second. Xebec's eyes drifted back to the horizon. The black, inky tendrils coiled lazily around his arm began to recede, sinking into the sea. The surface swallowed them without a ripple, as if they had never been there at all.
The ocean was calm, but only in the way a beast rests before it moves. Rosinante, who had once been nothing more than a forgettable name to Rocks D. Xebec, now stood in the periphery of his vision—a piece worth moving, perhaps even worth keeping. And when Xebec's attention fell fully upon a man… the world often changed around them.
For now, the boy lived. But Xebec was already making space for him in his plans. Somewhere, far beyond the dead shore of this nameless island, two young men—one red-haired, the other golden blonde—walked unknowingly toward the day their names would be spoken together with Xebec's once more. And when that day came, the world would remember what it meant to tremble.