Every nerve in his body was stretched to its limit.
He muttered under his breath, "I'm going back home to grow oranges… I can't live this pirate life anymore, always scared out of my mind, never knowing if I'll survive the next day…"
His voice carried an obvious sob, and his eyes were filled with longing for a quiet life, as well as fear toward the desperate situation before him.
A suffocating pressure hung over the tavern.
The owner quietly wiped the cup in his hand with a calm expression, his movements mechanical yet focused, as if he were trying to use that simple action to drive away the leaden heaviness around him.
The walls were covered densely with wanted posters, each one trembling faintly, as though disturbed by some invisible force.
Among them, Ron's wanted poster stood out the most.
No one knew who had done it, but someone had used a bright red pen to slash more than a dozen huge crosses across his face.
The ink had not yet dried and was still slowly running downward, looking almost like blood, as if foretelling some ominous fate soon to arrive.
"Three Emperors…"
Morris let out a heavy sigh.
His cold, hard iron hook had sunk deep into the bar counter, as if he were pouring all of his anger and helplessness into that one strike.
His eyes were dull as he continued, "Kaido, that brutal monster… and now even that crazy old hag has been driven into a corner…"
At that point, he could not bring himself to continue.
His chest felt blocked, so he abruptly tilted his head back and downed an entire bottle of rum.
The burning liquor slid down his throat, but it did nothing to clear the darkness in his heart.
In that suffocating silence, the tavern's old door was suddenly slammed open again.
With a piercing crash, a pirate covered in blood and looking utterly wretched stumbled inside.
His clothes were in tatters, and blood was still seeping from his wounds, staining the ground beneath his feet red.
He gasped for breath and shouted until his voice tore, "The Marines… The Marine fleet has already reached Loguetown! At the harbor… at the harbor, they hanged every last member of the Black Snake Pirates!"
The news exploded like a bomb, instantly plunging the entire tavern into deathly silence.
In that quiet, where even the drop of a needle could be heard, Jackson slowly drew the blade he had carried with him for many years.
The edge flashed coldly beneath the lamplight, reflecting the complicated despair on his face.
Then, under everyone's terrified gaze, this great pirate with a bounty of eighty-three million berries did something no one expected.
He placed the blade against his own neck.
His eyes were wide, madness and despair tangled together within them.
Through gritted teeth, he said, "Rather than wait for the Marines to execute me in the street like a dog… I might as well…"
Bang!
A crisp, sharp gunshot shattered the atmosphere that had been stretched to its breaking point.
At some point, the tavern owner had raised a flintlock pistol. Thin smoke now curled from the muzzle.
The blade in Jackson's hand fell with a clang, stabbing heavily into the floorboards and giving off a faint vibrating hum, like the final struggle of a life at the edge.
"If you want to die, do it outside," the owner said coldly, without the slightest trace of pity or hesitation in his eyes.
"Don't dirty my floor."
His voice was not loud, but it carried an authority that allowed no argument.
Outside the window, the long, piercing whistle of Marine warships echoed over Loguetown like a funeral bell.
This town, the birthplace of the legendary Pirate King, was now shrouded beneath a heavy gloom, bearing witness to the end of a brilliant era.
And the liquor spilling from the cups that had been knocked over in panic spread across the wooden floor, flowing freely until its shape looked strangely like a pirate flag slowly sinking beneath the waves, quietly telling of the curtain falling on the pirate age.
...
Mary Geoise.
Like a vast fortress hidden behind the world itself, it stood in the deepest part of Pangaea Castle.
Here lay the Hall of Power, where countless lives and deaths were decided.
Inside the spacious and luxurious hall, a unique round table drew the eye.
Its surface was cleverly inlaid with a detailed map of the world, as though all the lands and seas had been gathered onto that one tabletop.
Five figures sat steadily around this meaningful table.
They were the feared and revered Five Elders.
At that moment, the crystal chandelier above them gave off a soft yet cold light.
That radiance fell like fine threads, landing precisely on the aged, wrinkled faces of the Five Elders.
Every crease on their faces was clearly outlined, and shadows of varying depth shifted across their features, adding even more solemnity and gravity to the atmosphere.
Nearby, Saint Marcus Mars, the Warrior God of the Environment, had just elegantly lifted an exquisite gold-trimmed bone china teacup, preparing to savor the fragrant tea within.
At that exact moment, his teaspoon lightly touched the side of the cup, producing a crisp and pleasant yet strangely abrupt chime, like a pebble dropped into a still lake, breaking the silence for a brief instant.
But that silence did not last long.
Suddenly, the heavy doors were violently pushed open by a tremendous force, followed by hurried footsteps and a wave of panic.
It was the Commander-in-Chief of CP0.
He nearly slid into the sacred and inviolable hall on his knees, looking utterly disheveled.
In his hands, he tightly held a Visual Transponder Snail.
That tiny creature was now playing a crucial role, clearly projecting the shocking images of the entire Totto Land territory.
Across that land, one flag after another bearing the emblem of the Eternal Divine Kingdom fluttered in the wind, brazenly announcing that some great change had arrived.
Bang!
The sound was like the bell of fate being struck, instantly plunging the entire hall into deathly silence.
The five teacups that had been resting steadily on the table seemed to freeze in midair at the same time.
The teaspoon in Saint Mars's hand slipped uncontrollably from his fingers and fell straight into the teacup.
Scalding black tea splashed out like blood, quickly spreading across the flawless white tablecloth in a glaring scarlet stain.
The vivid color formed a sharp contrast with the solemn atmosphere around it.
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, the Warrior God of Science and Defense, also showed a rare change on his normally calm face.
His carefully maintained white beard, always neat and smooth, suddenly began trembling violently, twisting like a snake that had been badly frightened.
"Unimaginable… that they would actually make this choice."