As Shanks approached, Beckman stepped aside. His expression carried a trace of resignation, yet his hand subtly moved toward his waist, ready at any moment.
Dragon noticed nothing unusual. On the contrary, he felt that Shanks' appearance would make negotiations smoother.
In his view, an alliance between multiple forces against the Navy would benefit everyone involved.
When he first heard of Kaido's defeat, Dragon had been shocked, but he quickly realized it created an opportunity. The Revolutionary Army thrived in chaos. The previously stable balance of power had limited their growth, but now the tides were shifting.
And among the Four Emperors, Shanks, the youngest and a user of a Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit, was the one Dragon most wanted to win over.
He organized his thoughts, preparing to speak.
Clang!
Issho flicked his finger, and the blade of his cane sword revealed a cold gleam. His voice lowered.
"Mr. Dragon, I sense killing intent from him. Be careful."
Dragon frowned. He trusted Issho's perception. Ever since blinding himself, Issho had honed his Observation Haki to an extraordinary level, surpassing even Dragon's.
Yet in the next moment, Issho's expression shifted.
"This is impossible… my Observation Haki…"
Shanks raised his head slightly and glanced at Issho, the faint red light in his eyes fading.
Observation Haki was completely suppressed.
Issho felt as though his senses had been severed. The discomfort was immediate, and his hand instinctively moved to fully draw his blade.
His weapon, though disguised as a simple cane sword, was in truth a Supreme Grade Sword.
Dragon finally sensed the danger. His expression darkened.
"Red Hair, I came here with peaceful intentions…"
Shanks interrupted him before he could finish.
Tilting his head slightly, Shanks' expression caused Dragon to pause for a brief moment. The resemblance in that gesture stirred an unwelcome memory in his mind, reminding him of Lloyd.
That man was like a lingering nightmare.
Shanks spoke again, his tone casual.
"You still have not answered me. Who exactly are you trying to overthrow?"
Dragon snapped back to attention. This question struck at the very core of the Revolutionary Army.
"The Celestial Dragons," he answered firmly. "This world has rotted under their rule. It is time to drag them down from their throne."
Shanks suddenly burst into laughter.
The sound echoed loudly across the deck.
To Dragon, it felt like mockery.
His expression hardened. "Red Hair, watch your words. There should at least be mutual respect between us."
Shanks ignored him completely. He lifted his chin, forcing Dragon, who was already shorter, to lose sight of his face entirely.
A surge of humiliation rose within Dragon. His patience snapped. Green currents of wind began swirling around him, his cloak whipping violently.
Shanks' smile faded. He looked down at Dragon, his voice cold.
"A stray dog like you thinks he deserves respect from me?"
The words struck like a blade.
Before Dragon could respond, Shanks had already drawn his sword, Griffin.
A black red slash tore through the air.
In the next instant, the sea itself split apart. The ship Dragon had arrived on was cleaved in two, and its crew were thrown into the ocean.
Midair, swirling winds gathered and reformed Dragon's body. He hovered above, his expression grim, cold sweat forming on his forehead.
He had not expected such a sudden attack. A fraction slower, and he would have been cut in half.
Issho, still standing on the shattered remains, tightened his grip on his sword. A deep purple aura spread from the blade.
"Hell's Journey!"
A massive gravitational force descended instantly.
The Red Force groaned as if crushed under a mountain. The sea below warped, forming a dark abyss, and the ship began sinking toward the depths.
Issho leapt onto a fragment of wreckage. With a shift in gravity, the debris shot upward, carrying him into the air to rejoin Dragon.
On the Red Force, Shanks remained composed.
Beside him, Beckman exhaled a stream of smoke and glanced sideways.
Shanks raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
A crimson flame cloud materialized beneath the Red Force, pushing upward against the crushing gravity and lifting the ship back to stability.
Dragon's eyes narrowed.
"So it really is the Azure Dragon power… and he has developed it this far?"
What Dragon did not know was that this power had long surpassed the ordinary Azure Dragon abilities, transformed by Lloyd into something far more formidable.
The Red Force drifted aside, then another crimson cloud rose, carrying Shanks into the air until he stood before Dragon and Issho.
Golden dragon horns had emerged from his head. Crimson scales spread across his neck and the backs of his hands.
His gaze settled on Issho.
"Your ability is impressive. A Paramecia type, I assume."
Issho did not respond. He lowered his stance, preparing to draw and strike.
Shanks continued, his tone light.
"And that sword of yours is not bad either."
In the next moment, Issho struck.
A massive purple black wave surged forward.
"Gravity Blade, Fierce Tiger!"
Shanks clicked his tongue softly. His eyes sharpened, and a surge of Haoshoku Haki erupted behind him, taking the form of a crimson dragon that roared skyward.
The surrounding gravitational force shattered instantly.
Issho's expression grew heavier.
"Such overwhelming Haoshoku Haki…"
With all restraint gone, Dragon moved.
He swung his arm, summoning a colossal hurricane that tore through both sea and sky. His body transformed into wind and merged with the storm, rushing toward Shanks.
Shanks let out a cold laugh and transformed into a streak of crimson light, plunging directly into the hurricane.
A deafening explosion followed.
Lightning infused with Haoshoku Haki burst across the sky, sending massive waves crashing over the sea.
Issho moved to assist, but before he could act, a bullet streaked upward from below, crackling with black lightning.
It struck the debris beneath his feet, shattering it instantly.
The bullet continued toward him without losing momentum.
Issho swung his blade, forming a spherical gravitational barrier that halted the attack.
Below, Beckman stood with a flintlock rifle in one hand, a cigarette between his lips.
He spoke in an indifferent tone.
"Do not interfere with our captain's fight."
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