"Come, come, have a seat!"
"Hahaha, I can't believe it—you've grown into a fine young man! And such a handsome one, too!"
Looking at Mislanda's sharp, mature features, Crocus couldn't hide his delight.
After all, Mislanda, Shanks, and Buggy were all raised aboard the Roger Pirates' ship. The bond between them was nothing short of family.
"How's Rayleigh doing these days? When I heard about what happened at Ohara eight years ago, I nearly had a heart attack!"
"Don't worry, the old man's doing fine," Mislanda replied with a grin. "In fact, I'm planning to go find him soon."
He then told Crocus about Rayleigh leaving three years ago.
Crocus listened quietly and nodded. That was between Rayleigh and Mislanda—he had no right to interfere. As long as they were both safe, that was all that mattered.
"So, what's next for you?" Crocus asked.
Mislanda turned his gaze toward the direction of the Grand Line—his answer was obvious.
"Hahaha, good! You've got spirit. Then I wish you success on your journey!"
"Thanks, Uncle Crocus!"
After chatting a bit more, Mislanda prepared to leave.
Before he went, he placed his hand on Laboon's scarred head.
"Be good, alright? Don't hurt yourself anymore. The ones you're waiting for—you'll see them again someday."
Splash!
Laboon slapped the water with his tail, sending up a massive wave that drenched Mislanda from head to toe.
Instead of dodging, Mislanda just laughed heartily.
"Hahaha! Alright, alright, enough messing around! I'll be back to visit next time!"
"Wait!" Crocus called. "Do you need a Log Pose? I've got a few spares."
Mislanda shook his head. "No need. I already know where I'm headed."
And with a wave of his hand, his figure blurred—and vanished from sight.
[Status Window]
Name: Silvers Mislanda
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Abilities: Three-Color Haki, Dark-Dark Fruit, Dragon Essence
Power Level:Star Glory (approaching breakthrough)
Battle Points: 3,200
Over the past three years, Mislanda had traveled the seas while training nonstop. Now, he was a powerhouse of Star Glory rank—
and he had met plenty of strong opponents along the way: Marines, bounty hunters, pirates…
He'd beaten them all.
After defeating a Marine Vice Admiral in combat, the World Government had even placed a bounty on him—
A black-robed man, 120,000,000 berries.
No name. No face. Just the shadow of a figure cloaked in darkness.
The title beneath: The Man in Black.
Through these years of travel and battles, Mislanda had also figured out how to use his "Battle Points."
Whenever he wanted an item, he could ask the System, and it would tell him the point cost.
Simple enough—not perfect, but fair.
Now, standing at the edge of the sea, he took out Rayleigh's Vivre Card.
That faintly burning scrap of paper pointed him toward one destination—
The Sabaody Archipelago.
If his guess was right, Rayleigh was probably there now. And as fate would have it, Mislanda's next mission lay in the same place.
Mission Objective:
Destroy the Celestial Dragons' Slave Prison!
In this world, there was a kind of person both infamous and untouchable.
Their strength? Mediocre.
Their intelligence? Questionable.
But their status? Above everyone.
So high that even the Fleet Admiral of the Marines had to bow his head before them.
They could do whatever they pleased—even kill someone in broad daylight—and face no consequences.
Under their command, they kept thousands of slaves, most of them innocent.
And the Marines? Instead of stopping them, they were often forced to help.
These people called themselves the Celestial Dragons, the self-proclaimed "descendants of the creators," the "gods" of the world.
Mislanda's next mission was to annihilate their prison fortress—a sprawling complex built atop the Red Line, housing nearly ten thousand slaves.
It was the third mission the system had suddenly issued to him half a month ago.
And to Mislanda, it didn't sound too bad.
After all, if Fisher Tiger could do it alone, why couldn't he?
The mission deadline was one month—and according to the timeline, Tiger would launch his assault exactly one month from now.
This time, Mislanda intended to join him.
He admired Fisher Tiger greatly—a man who had once been a Celestial Dragon's slave, endured three years of torture, escaped, and still returned to save others.
A man who had climbed the Red Line with his bare hands and freed over a thousand people.
That kind of courage… deserved respect.
On his way to Sabaody, Mislanda hadn't planned on stopping anywhere.
But plans rarely survive reality.
Three days later, he halted mid-flight—because something below caught his eye.
A ship.
Not just any ship—the Marine insignia flying proudly on its sails, and at its prow…
A dog head biting a bone.
The ship of the Hero of the Marines—Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp.
Ever since Roger's execution, Garp hadn't rested for a day.
The Great Pirate Era was in full swing, the Four Emperors hadn't yet formed, and chaos reigned across the seas.
As the Marines' living legend, Garp couldn't just sit idly by. His fists were needed—everywhere.
Mislanda grinned. "Well, I'll be damned. Didn't expect to run into him here."
He thought for a moment, then began descending slowly toward the ship.
He wasn't afraid.
Yes, Garp's strength was monstrous—stronger even than Rayleigh's—but Mislanda was just a step away from the King rank himself.
He might not win, but he could hold his own.
And if things went south? He could always run.
Garp's "Moonwalk" wouldn't keep up with his speed.
Besides, Garp didn't even know who he was.
There was no reason for him to attack without cause… right?
But as Mislanda neared the ship, he froze.
The old Marine hero—gray-haired, broad-shouldered, still brimming with vitality—was already looking right at him.
"Noticed me already, huh?" Mislanda muttered.
Then he smiled, landing lightly on the figurehead of the dog-headed warship.
"Oi, brat," Garp said, digging a pinky in his ear as if bored. "Who the hell are you?"
Though he spoke casually, Mislanda could feel the pressure behind the words—a crushing presence, barely restrained.
This old man wasn't just strong. He was dangerous.
"My name? Hah, no point telling you—you wouldn't know it anyway," Mislanda said with a teasing grin.
All around them, Marines had already raised their rifles, aiming straight at him.
"Relax, everyone," Mislanda said, raising both hands disarmingly. "I'm not stupid enough to pick a fight with the Hero of the Marines."
He smiled. "Trust me—I come in peace."
Garp studied him for a long moment. Then, with a wave of his hand, he ordered the soldiers to lower their guns.
From the way this boy spoke and carried himself… he didn't seem like a pirate.
And really, what kind of idiot pirate would willingly land on his ship?
~~--------------------------
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