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A deep, guttural laugh broke the silence — "Kukuku... KAKKAKA!!!" — echoing across the empty sea like the roar of a god awakening. The colossal statue of Hades slowly parted its lips, and from within that ancient maw, a ghostly soul drifted forth, rippling with a force that seemed to shake the very fabric of the ship. The luminous essence spun once in midair before plunging straight into the lifeless body of Rocks D. Xebec. In that instant, the decapitated head reattached seamlessly to its neck, veins sealing, blood reversing its flow, flesh and bone reknitting with unnerving precision until the form was once again whole. The tyrant of a fallen era — resurrected.
This was Outsider Rinne Tensei no Jutsu, the altered resurrection art born from Ayr's system. In the shinobi world, such a technique demanded the ultimate price — the user's own life. But the system had rewritten the rules of mortality. Ayr could now channel the forbidden jutsu without surrendering his soul, performing a feat no mortal should wield. Sitting silently on the ship's railing, he watched the motionless giant before him with steady eyes, feeling the faint yet growing pulse of life radiating from Rocks' restored body. The air trembled, heavy with rebirth.
Then came the familiar synthetic chime. "Ding! Congratulations, Host! You have successfully resurrected Rocks D. Xebec. Those resurrected by the Host are bound to your will regarding life and death." Ayr's gaze didn't waver. This resurrection was no Impure World Reincarnation — no puppet's return. The soul that reentered the body was autonomous, conscious, fully alive. Ayr held no control over Rocks' mind, only one simple dominion: the power to end his existence at will. The life of a demon balanced on the fingertip of a god.
Moments passed before the still figure stirred. Then, suddenly, the once-dreaded Overlord of the Seas opened his eyes. "I… what…?" His voice rasped like thunder crawling over stone. Slowly, he sat upright, confusion knitting his brows. His fists clenched, the motion instinctive, forged by years of battle and instinct. He remembered everything — the betrayal of his crew, the chaos of the Valley of the Gods, the sight of Roger's blade cleaving through his neck, and the cold weight of his own corpse falling to the ground. Yet now, impossibly, he was breathing again. He looked down at his arms, flawless and unbroken, flexed his hands, and felt power pulse through them. His heart thudded in his chest — steady, defiant, alive. It was too real to be illusion.
"Long time no see, Rocks." The familiar voice drifted from the rail, calm and low, carrying the weight of decades. Rocks turned sharply and saw him — Ayr — standing with effortless composure, leaning against the ship as though time itself had paused for him. "Ayr?!" Shock flashed in Rocks' eyes. That face was the same as he remembered — not a wrinkle, not a scar of age. Impossible. Had Ayr not died that day too? For a long moment, Rocks said nothing, his gaze hard and uncertain, until at last he spoke, his tone rough but steady. "Did you also die at the Valley of the Gods, Ayr?"
The wind tugged at Ayr's coat as he answered simply, "No. Aside from you, most of the core members survived — myself included." His voice held no emotion, just truth. He had fought to the end that day alongside Whitebeard, both spilling blood until the sea ran red. Yet others — Golden Lion, Linlin, John, Silver Axe — had turned their backs, slipping away unscathed as their captain fell.
"I see…" Rocks' expression darkened, the memory searing back into his mind — surrounded by Roger and Garp, bleeding out, calling to his comrades for aid, receiving nothing but silence. The betrayal had been complete. He had led monsters and bred ambition, only to die alone, abandoned by those he had made strong. The absurdity of it twisted into bitter amusement at the edge of his lips. But another thought cut through the haze — why was he here again? And why was Ayr, of all people, the one standing before him? His eyes narrowed. "Then tell me, Ayr... if you didn't die there, why now? Why are you here?"
"Because I brought you back, Rocks." The words struck like a cannon blast. Rocks froze, disbelief flashing in his sharp eyes. For a long moment, he simply stared, uncertain whether to laugh or rage. "You… brought me back?" His voice was quiet but edged with awe. There was no jest in Ayr's expression — only calm certainty. Slowly, realization set in, and Rocks' lips curled upward. "HAHAHAHA!! AYR! So I was right to take you into my crew back then!" His booming laughter shook the deck, echoing like the roar of a storm. "To think — the man I once recruited now commands the power to resurrect the dead! KAKAKAKA! You've outdone even the gods, boy!"
Ayr watched in silence, the faintest smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth. Rocks' laughter was the same as before — wild, domineering, unrepentant. After a while, the Overlord quieted, flexing his fingers, feeling his restored might surge through every fiber of his being. Ayr's gaze softened slightly. "Do you feel any discomfort after resurrection?" he asked evenly. Despite the confidence of the system, a sliver of uncertainty remained in him. The art he used wasn't the true Rinne Tensei of Nagato — it had been transformed, rewritten, and he needed confirmation.
Rocks rolled his shoulders, exhaled, and clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. "Unbelievable as it is… no. There's no pain, no weakness. If anything…" He smirked darkly. "I feel stronger." The Haki that once ruled seas stirred within him again, rising from dormancy like a dragon breaking free of stone. His aura rippled outward, bending the air with pressure so immense the waves around the ship buckled in submission.
Ayr nodded, the faint glow of the Rinnegan fading from his eyes. As he expected, the system's version of Rinne Tensei didn't diminish the resurrected — it restored them in full, their bodies and souls unscarred, their strength untouched. Rocks was reborn in every sense. Yet the truth remained: his life was bound to Ayr's will, fragile beneath divine authority.
For a long moment, silence hung between them — two monsters of an old world, now standing on the same deck once again. Then Rocks spoke, his tone quieter but charged with something ancient and burning. "Ayr."
Ayr looked up, meeting his gaze. "Hmm?"
Their eyes locked — two predators measuring the horizon. In that instant, the sea stilled as though listening. Rocks' eyes blazed with the same fire that once set the world aflame — vengeance, ambition, and the desire to reclaim everything stolen from him. His lips curled into a grin that could split mountains.
The captain of monsters had returned.
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