"Hey, Benn, who is that guy? You know him? He looks kinda familiar… like I've seen him somewhere before."
After walking back to his crew, Shanks' expression carried a trace of seriousness, mixed with a hint of curiosity, as he turned to Benn Beckman and asked.
"I keep telling you to read the papers more, but you never do. That guy is a big deal." Benn replied casually, though his tone carried weight.
"Hahahaha, really? But I've seen all the bounty posters! I don't recall seeing him at all. Don't tell me he's some Marine or a World Government big shot. Wait, that doesn't make sense — if he was, he wouldn't be so polite." Shanks chuckled.
"He's not a Marine or a World Government man. His bounty was revoked, that's why you haven't seen his face on a poster recently. But lately, everyone's been talking about him — Dragon King Rosinante." Benn expRyand.
"The captain of the Grey Nation… Dragon King Rosinante." A sharp gleam flickered through Shanks' eyes.
"Didn't expect to run into him here in the Sabaody Archipelago. Last I heard, the Grey Nation was active in the Four Seas. He even caused a major uproar with the Big Mom Pirates not long ago. So what's he doing here of all places?" Shanks frowned slightly.
"Who knows… but I think we should leave the Archipelago as soon as we can. Whenever the Dragon King shows up, trouble follows — storms, blood, chaos. Stick around too long, and we might just get caught up in it." Benn said with a wry smile.
"You're worrying too much. My Brother Rosinante only came to Sabaody to find a teacher to help him polish his swordsmanship. Though…" Robin rolled her eyes and grinned, "I think he just came here to play."
"No, no, no, little lady, you don't get it. People like him — even if they're not looking for trouble, trouble will come find them. I guarantee you, it won't be long before this entire archipelago is in an uproar because of him. I've seen this with my own eyes." Shanks said in a low, ominous tone, half-joking, half-serious.
"Are you… talking about yourself?" Robin tilted her head, studying Shanks for a moment, then smiled playfully.
"Me? How could that be?" Shanks said, feigning innocence.
"Because they say you're a 'master of courting death.'" Robin replied, her smile widening.
"Is there really a need to ruin my reputation in front of a lady?" Shanks glanced at his crewmates helplessly.
"I'm just telling the truth." Benn laughed.
"That's right, Captain is absolutely a master of courting death!"
"From now on, that's your nickname — 'Shanks the Death-Seeker!'" the Red Hair Pirates chimed in, grinning wickedly.
"You bastards!" Shanks barked with a laugh, swinging a fist in mock anger.
"Hahahahaha!" His crew just laughed even louder, completely unfazed.
"Let's throw a feast for our 'Death-Seeker' Captain Shanks!" Lucky Roo shouted.
"Yeah!" the entire crew cheered in unison.
"I'll agree to the feast — but I still think 'Red-Hair' suits me better." Shanks said, running a hand over his iconic straw hat.
As he spoke, his gaze shifted toward the two still fighting in the center of the clearing.
"I'd heard rumors that Rosinante stormed Marineford and fought Fleet Admiral Sengoku to a draw. At first, I didn't believe it. Sengoku's a monster, after all. But now… I'm starting to think the rumors were true. He's definitely stronger than me." Shanks admitted with a small smile.
"True enough. One man completely at ease, the other barely keeping up — Captain, you really got shown up." Lucky Roo teased.
"He's been stronger than you for a while now. Back in Loguetown, he injured Borsalino with a single strike. Back then, if you had run into Borsalino, you probably wouldn't even have been able to escape." Yasopp added with a smirk.
"Hah! Fair enough." Shanks didn't get upset at all. Instead, he laughed heartily, nodding in agreement. His open-heartedness was so infectious that even Lain and Robin couldn't help but smile.
Watching the Red Hair Pirates laugh and joke so freely, Robin felt a little curious. The Grey Nation had a good atmosphere too, but compared to Shanks' crew, it seemed like something was missing.
"Hey, Bratt… has anyone ever told you that your attacks are actually really stupid?" Rosinante, who had been effortlessly dodging Bratt's strikes, suddenly stopped smiling. His expression turned serious.
"It's starting." Ryan said quietly, realizing Rosinante was about to get serious.
"Attacks aren't just about throwing yourself at your opponent. You wait for the right moment… and strike to kill." Rosinante's voice was cold.
Whoosh!
No one even saw his feet move, but Rosinante's body blurred like a streak of light as he appeared right in front of Bratt. His fist lashed out like a thunderbolt.
Boom!
His punch slammed into Bratt's chest with devastating force, launching him like a rocket. He smashed into one of the massive mangrove roots, shattering it with a deafening crack.
"That… is a real attack. What you were doing before was just flailing with brute force and a death wish. That kind of attack will never hit me." Rosinante said calmly.
"Aaaargh!"
Bratt roared as he dragged himself out of the broken root.
By now, he should have realized the overwhelming gap between their strengths.
A normal man, upon seeing such a difference, would at least hesitate — maybe retreat, maybe reconsider, maybe plan a way to escape.
But not Bratt. His fighting spirit blazed even hotter as he charged at Rosinante once again.
"Don't you dare dodge!" Bratt bellowed, his fist flying straight at Rosinante's face.
He was sure Rosinante would just slip aside again.
But this time, something stopped him. His fist didn't connect — it was blocked by… a single finger.
Rosinante stood there, one finger casually extended, pressing lightly against Bratt's knuckles.
The strength behind that finger wasn't overwhelming — Bratt could feel it. He was confident that with one burst of power, he could break through it and land the punch.
Bratt sneered. Dare to underestimate me? I'll make you pay!
He poured all his strength into his fist, shattering the resistance of Rosinante's finger with ease — or so it seemed.
Yes, just as he thought, there was no resistance at all. His punch should have gone straight through.
But instead… instead, Bratt once again found himself flying backward, hurled through the air like a ragdoll.