Chapter 345

A Million Words and a New Journey: A Message to My Readers

Hey everyone,

I can hardly believe I'm writing this, but we've finally reached one million words on this fanfiction! What started as a simple idea, fueled by my love for One Piece and a desire to tell my own version of its world, has now become something far bigger than I ever imagined. And it's all because of you—the readers who stuck with me through the highs, the lows, the insane fights, and the moments that (hopefully) hit just right.

Your support, encouragement, and even criticism have pushed me to improve, to keep going, and to make this story the best it could be. I genuinely can't thank you all enough. Whether you've been here since the beginning or just joined recently, your comments, discussions, and passion have made this journey something truly special.

Now, I also want to take a moment to apologize for the inconsistent updates over the past month. Life has been a little hectic, and while I always try my best to keep the story going, I know I haven't always met expectations. I appreciate everyone who has been patient and understanding—it really means the world to me.

That said, I have some big news.

After a lot of thought, I've decided to try my hand at writing an original web novel. Many of you have encouraged me to step into original storytelling, and I think it's finally time to take that leap. I still plan to continue this fanfiction, but I want to dedicate real time and effort into building something from the ground up—something that is truly my own.

And this is where I'd love your support.

I've set up a Patreon where those who believe in my writing can help me dedicate more time and effort into creating this original series. Every bit of support there will go entirely into making this new story a reality—allowing me to focus on writing consistently without worrying about time constraints.

As for the genre, I know a lot of you have asked me to pickup the Pokémon fanfiction, and while I won't be diving into that directly, I've decided to work on a beast-taming web novel as my first original series—taking inspiration from the world of Pokémon while adding my own twist. I'm really excited about this new challenge, and I hope some of you will join me on this next adventure.

But regardless of whether or not you support me financially, just knowing that so many of you enjoy my stories is already a huge motivation. I will never take that for granted. Thank you for being here, for reading, for commenting, and for making this journey what it is.

Here's to the next million words.

– [Silent_stiele]

Patreon : www.patreon.com/Silent_stiele

*****

The wind howled across the snow-laden peak, carrying with it a biting chill that gnawed at the skin. Yet the icy air wasn't what caused the tension between us. Opposite me stood a figure I hadn't expected to see again—Patrick Redfield, the notorious "Red Count."

His crimson cloak billowed around him like liquid fire against the stark white of the mountain, and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that could pierce steel.

I tilted my head slightly, a faint smirk playing on my lips as I regarded him. "I didn't expect it to be you. Tell me, what made you decide to stand here representing a kingdom of all things? Last time I checked, you were always the lone wolf, Patrick. Didn't think you cared much for alliances."

Redfield chuckled softly, the sound low and melodious, but there was a razor edge to it. "Time changes many things, boy. Would it surprise you to know I've grown sentimental in my old age?" His crimson eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. "Though, I must admit, this meeting is unexpected. Fate seems to have an odd sense of humor."

His words carried an air of detachment, but I could see the tension coiled in his posture. He wasn't here to reminisce. His right hand rested casually on the handle of his umbrella, a seemingly mundane accessory for a man of his reputation.

Yet I knew better. That umbrella was more than it seemed—a deadly and versatile weapon, capable of transforming into a rapier, lance, scythe, or even a shield, depending on his needs. Patrick Redfield wasn't the type to carry anything without purpose.

"And what about you?" he continued, his tone light, but his gaze sharp. "How much does it take to buy your loyalty, I wonder? Would it be possible for me to ask you to turn back? Leave the Elsar Kingdom alone? After all..." His voice softened slightly, the tiniest flicker of something human in his otherwise cold demeanor.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude for releasing me from Impel Down. But I cannot stand by and watch while my nephew's kingdom falls to ruin."

When he mentioned his nephew, I understood why Redfield was here. However, it didn't matter—his reasons wouldn't change my resolve. This kingdom was destined to become Donquixote territory, and anyone who stood in the way would be cut down without hesitation.

The snow crunched softly beneath my boots as I shifted my stance, letting his words settle for a moment. "What do you think?" I replied, my tone calm, almost amused, my soft smile belying the lethal intent crackling just beneath the surface.

Patrick's lips curled into a wry smile of his own. "Then it seems we'll have to do this the old way. Perhaps I'll repay my debt by letting you leave—if you're still breathing by the end of it."

His hand tightened on the umbrella's hilt, the click of a mechanism releasing echoing faintly against the mountainside. The curved edge of a gleaming rapier emerged from its sheath, its blade shimmering in the pale light of the snowstorm.

Yet he made no move to strike. Instead, he studied me, his stance composed, exuding the kind of confidence that only came with decades of mastery. His crimson eyes locked onto mine, searching for even the smallest opening.

The wind swirled between us, carrying snowflakes that glittered like shards of glass. I let out a breath, the vapor curling in the air before dissipating.

"I'd forgotten how dramatic you could be," I said with a chuckle. My hand twitched slightly, sparks of electricity dancing along my fingertips. The familiar thrum of power surged through my veins, a reminder that I wasn't the same person who had let him escape from Impel Down.

Patrick's smile didn't falter, but his grip on the rapier shifted ever so slightly—a subtle adjustment, the kind only someone as experienced as he could execute. "Dramatic? Perhaps. But you'll find that this old wolf still has fangs."

"Good," I replied, the smile fading from my lips as my expression grew serious. "I'd hate for this to be boring."

Patrick Redfield narrowed his crimson eyes, the sharp glint of his rapier reflecting the cold moonlight. His breathing was steady, but beneath the veneer of calm, his mind raced.

For years, his Observation Haki had been unmatched, a skill so polished that opponents were nothing more than books he could read at leisure.

Yet now, standing before me, he found his future sight—his most formidable advantage—completely countered. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in decades, not since clashing with legends like Garp or Roger. And now, here I was—a mere youth, barely into my twenties—radiating a level of Conqueror's Haki that made his every attempt to read ahead useless.

"It's still not too late, kid," Patrick said, his voice calm but edged with tension. He twirled the rapier in his hand, the blade gleaming with the black sheen of advanced Armament Haki. "Turn back now, and we can bury this matter. No one has to die here."

I met his gaze, unflinching, as I unsheathed Shusui in one fluid motion. The crimson-black blade sang through the icy air, its edge gleaming like the abyss itself as my Armament Haki coursed through it. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation as the two of us squared off, neither making the first move.

"That's a fine blade you've got there," Patrick remarked, his voice tinged with respect. But before I could reply, he lunged.

The rapier's thrust was a blur, a pinpoint strike aimed directly at my heart. The sheer force of the attack tore through the air with a thunderous crack, splitting the snowflakes around it. My body moved instinctively, Shusui meeting his rapier in a perfect deflection. The clash sent out a shockwave that rippled through the air, blasting the snow from the peak and exposing the jagged rock beneath.

Patrick wasted no time, spinning his rapier in a dazzling series of strikes. Each thrust and slash was precise, almost surgical, aimed to exploit any opening he could find. But I wasn't idle. My Observation Haki flared, allowing me to anticipate his movements with razor-sharp clarity. With each attack, I met him blow for blow, Shusui parrying his strikes with calculated precision.

Our weapons collided again and again, the impact of each clash resounding like thunderclaps. The mountain trembled beneath our feet, the sheer force of our Haki tearing chunks of rock from the peak and sending them cascading into the abyss below. The sky itself seemed to react, the once-clear dawn now swirling with ominous storm clouds as if nature itself recognized the magnitude of our battle.

Patrick feinted left, his rapier's tip darting toward my ribs, but I spun Shusui in a tight arc, deflecting the blade and countering with a horizontal slash aimed at his midsection. He twisted his body with inhuman grace, narrowly avoiding the strike, and retaliated with a downward thrust. I sidestepped, Shusui rising to meet his rapier in a clash that sent another shockwave rippling through the air.

"You've got skill, I'll give you that," Patrick said, his tone almost conversational despite the intensity of the battle. "But skill alone won't be enough."

With a flick of his wrist, his rapier transformed, the blade extending and curving into a wicked scythe. He swung it in a wide arc, the sheer power of the attack splitting the air with a deafening roar. I leapt back, the blade missing me by mere inches, but the force of the swing tore through the ground, carving a deep trench into the mountainside.

"You talk too much," I countered, charging forward with Shusui held low. The blade gleamed as I imbued it with even more Armament Haki, its edge now sharp enough to slice through steel like paper.

I closed the distance in an instant, delivering a rapid flurry of strikes. Patrick's scythe morphed back into its rapier form, and he met each of my attacks with equal ferocity.

Our blades clashed in a whirlwind of steel and Haki, each strike creating bursts of energy that shook the mountain to its core. The snow-covered peak began to crumble under the strain of our battle, massive chunks of rock breaking away and tumbling down the slopes.

Below, the Elsar Kingdom trembled as the ground quaked, its occupants looking to the mountain with fear and awe.

Patrick's Observation Haki flared as he shifted his stance, his movements becoming even more fluid. He thrust his rapier forward, the blade splitting into multiple segments like a whip, each section coated in Armament Haki. The segmented blade lashed out, weaving through the air like a serpent. I weaved through the strikes, deflecting some and dodging others, but the relentless assault forced me to retreat several steps.

"You're holding back," Patrick taunted, his segmented blade snapping back into its rapier form.

"Show me the power that brought the New World to a standstill; show me the power that earned you your title."

I smirked, planting Shusui into the ground. Sparks of electricity crackled along my body as I activated my devil fruit powers. "Careful what you wish for."

In an instant, I vanished in a flash of lightning, reappearing behind him with Shusui raised high. Patrick spun, his rapier meeting my blade in a clash that sent a massive bolt of electricity cascading down the mountainside. The ground beneath us exploded, and we were both sent hurtling into the air.

Mid-air, Patrick unleashed a flurry of strikes, his rapier moving so fast it seemed to create afterimages. I met him strike for strike, Shusui a blur as it countered his every move. The sheer force of our exchange sent shockwaves radiating outward, shattering nearby peaks and sending avalanches roaring down the slopes.

Redfield chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the crumbling peak. "I suppose that's enough warm-up."

In the next instant, a suffocating pressure radiated from him. His Conqueror's Haki surged to life, red lightning sparking wildly around his form. The tangible manifestation of his will lashed out with unrelenting force, tearing through the mountainside.

Rocks exploded into fragments, and snow vaporized under the sheer intensity, leaving a massive crater where he stood. The ground beneath us quaked as if recoiling from his dominance.

But unlike what he had expected, his display didn't faze me. I stood firm, unaffected by the oppressive storm of Haki. Redfield's sharp crimson eyes narrowed in response, his focus intensifying as he adjusted his stance. His right hand gripped his weapon tightly, which shifted seamlessly into a lance. Without warning, he thrust it forward, unleashing a devastating attack.

The weapon became a conduit for his Armament Haki, firing a beam of energy so dense it roared through the air, aiming to pierce me like an unstoppable spear.

I reacted in a blur, swinging Shusui with precision. The clash of blade and energy created a deafening shockwave, and the deflected beam streaked past me, slamming into the mountain peak behind us. The explosion obliterated the summit entirely, sending an avalanche of debris cascading into the valley below.

Just as Redfield moved to follow up, I released my own Conqueror's Haki in full force. Against an opponent like him, holding back wasn't an option. A thunderous roar echoed as black and golden lightning erupted from me, clashing with the red lightning that surrounded him.

The collision of our wills was catastrophic, tearing the sky apart and splitting the ground beneath our feet. The sheer force of the clash sent shockwaves rippling across the landscape, flattening forests miles away and creating cracks that snaked down the mountainside.

Redfield's Haki domain felt vast, like the depth of the ocean—unyielding and all-encompassing. But mine surged forward, devouring his dominance like a black hole swallowing light. The golden sparks within my Conqueror's Haki illuminated the darkness, creating an overwhelming presence that pressed against him relentlessly. His brows furrowed, surprise flickering across his face as he realized his indomitable will was being steadily pushed back.

For a moment, the pride he had carried for decades—the unshakable confidence of the Red Count—seemed to waver. But he was not a man who allowed such distractions to linger. Gritting his teeth, he shifted his weapon once more, his lance retracting into its original rapier form. With a roar, he infused the blade with both Armament and Conqueror's Haki, the weapon trembling with raw power.

He lunged forward, slashing with a speed and precision that split the very air. The strike tore through the mountain, creating a massive fissure in its wake. Yet, the attack met my Haki barrier, where black and golden lightning danced chaotically. The barrier held firm, absorbing the devastating force of the attack and dispersing it harmlessly into the storm of energy around us.

"Impressive," Redfield muttered, his voice low but tinged with grudging respect. His crimson eyes burned with renewed determination, the thrill of battle overtaking him. "But don't think that means you've won."

I responded with a faint smile, the blade of Shusui humming in anticipation. "Then come, Redfield. Let's see how far that pride of yours can take you."

Our blades met once more, the clash shaking the heavens. Each strike was a battle of wills, our Haki-infused weapons carving through the very fabric of the mountain. Every movement, every swing, was a cataclysmic event that reshaped the world around us.

It was not just a duel of swords—it was a collision of two titanic forces, each determined to claim supremacy.

And as the battle raged on, it became clear that this clash would leave nothing of the mountain, or perhaps even the kingdom, unscathed.

*****

Redlark Islands, New World

"Akagami…!" Diamond Jozu's gruff voice boomed, cutting through the tension like a blade. The air seemed heavier as he stepped forward, his massive frame a testament to his reputation as the Third Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. His presence alone was enough to make the atmosphere crackle with unspoken threat.

"So, you're the rookie they hail as the Supernova of the seas. They say you're the man with the potential to catch up with Donquixote Rosinante. It's been quite a few years since we last met, hasn't it?"

Standing among the dozen seasoned pirates who had come ashore, Jozu exuded the authority of a man who had fought countless battles at Whitebeard's side. Behind him, the other Whitebeard pirates stood tall, their silent gazes reinforcing the weight of their reputation.

Among them, Shanks quickly recognized Vista, the master swordsman of the Fifth Division, whose calm but sharp demeanor hinted at his readiness to draw his blade at any moment.

Shanks, however, was unshaken. He stood at the forefront of his own small crew, his signature smile on his face but his hand resting firmly on the hilt of Gryphon, his saber. His red hair fluttered slightly in the sea breeze, but his eyes, sharp and calculating, missed nothing.

The tension between the two groups was palpable, every pirate present aware of the precarious balance between negotiation and all-out conflict.

"Jozu," Shanks began with a measured tone, his smile widening ever so slightly. "The Third Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. You've grown taller since the last time we met." There was a casual air to his words, but his grip on his blade betrayed the vigilance behind his easy demeanor.

Jozu's sharp gaze didn't falter. "And you, Akagami, seem to have grown bolder. Or maybe just reckless," he rumbled, crossing his massive arms. "But tell me, what is an ex-Shichibukai—the government's former lapdog—doing here, sniffing around in Pop's territory?" His voice carried the weight of the Whitebeard Pirates' dominion over the New World, and the question hung heavily in the air.

Shanks tilted his head slightly, his smirk remaining, but there was an edge to his response. "Do I need to tell you everything I do, Jozu? Even if you're Whitebeard's men, I don't think I owe you any explanations. And let's not kid ourselves—this patch of sea doesn't belong to anyone. The seas bow to the one who can tame them, not the other way around. Or… are you saying Whitebeard thinks he can tame them all?"

The air grew colder with his words, and the tension thickened. The Whitebeard pirates shifted slightly, their hands drifting toward weapons as the situation edged closer to violence.

Even Buggy, who was known for his usual cowardice, stood firm beside Shanks, his eyes darting between the rival pirates. He knew this was no time to crack jokes or show fear—if things escalated, even a single moment of hesitation could prove fatal.

Jozu's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening at Shanks' brazen words. He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the sand. The ground seemed to tremble under his weight.

"Akagami, I'm not here to debate you over who owns the seas. This isn't about petty posturing. I'll make it simple: the Whitebeard Pirates have decided to claim the fruit. If you know what's good for you, you'll walk away. Now."

Shanks' smile thinned, his expression hardening slightly. "And if I don't? Are you going to force me out, Jozu?" His tone was light, almost teasing, but the undertone was serious. He could feel the stares of not just Jozu and Vista but the other Whitebeard pirates, all ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Vista, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward beside Jozu. "Shanks," he said calmly, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "You've always been a reasonable man. Surely, you understand what's at stake here. The New World is already teetering on chaos after Wano. We won't let anyone destabilize it further—not for some devil fruit."

Shanks' gaze flicked to Vista, and then back to Jozu. He chuckled softly, but it was a cold, mirthless sound. "Reasonable? Maybe. But there are some things worth fighting for, Vista. This fruit—" he paused, his voice dropping slightly, "—is too important to walk away from. And if I have to fight every last one of you for it, so be it."

The declaration hung in the air like a thundercloud, ready to burst. For a moment, everything was still—the only sound was the faint lapping of waves against the shore. The tension was so thick it was suffocating.

Jozu clenched his fists, his muscles rippling with raw power as he prepared to make good on his warning. Vista's hand moved to his hilt, his fingers curling around the grip of his blade. Behind Shanks, his own crew stiffened, readying themselves for the inevitable clash.

Then, Jozu spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "You've got guts, Akagami. But don't mistake guts for strength. If you're so set on this, then you leave us no choice. We'll make sure you learn why the Whitebeard Pirates reign supreme in the New World."

Shanks' grin widened, his grip tightening on Gryphon as his Haki flared ever so slightly, sending a wave of pressure across the beach. "Then let's settle this. Show me what Whitebeard's men are made of."

Among the dozen men who had come ashore with the Whitebeard Pirates stood a figure whose presence was shadowed by the likes of Jozu and Vista, yet whose ambitions burned brighter than anyone else's: Marshall D. Teach.

He stood quietly at the edge of the group, his arms crossed and his face set in a neutral expression, but his mind was a storm of turbulent thoughts. Every glance he stole at Shanks seemed to fan the flames of an unspoken hatred, an animosity he couldn't quite suppress.

It wasn't just disdain—it was something deeper, more personal. Teach's teeth clenched slightly, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't let anyone notice, not now. Not when the stakes were this high.

The reason he was here, the reason he had pushed the crew to pursue this particular devil fruit, was simple: the descriptions from the pirate group who had stumbled upon it matched his quarry too closely to ignore. If there was even the faintest chance that this fruit was the legendary Yami Yami no Mi, the power that could turn his dreams into reality, then nothing else mattered. Not Jozu, not Vista, not even Whitebeard himself.

Certainly not Shanks.

Teach's fingers drummed against his claw-shaped weapon on his arm as the heated exchange between Jozu and Shanks escalated, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. Why hadn't the fight begun yet? The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, yet both sides seemed to be holding back, measuring each other like predators circling their prey.

His lips curled into a faint snarl, the barest trace of emotion slipping through his mask. If he didn't need to keep his true strength hidden for now, he would have already lunged at Shanks himself, tearing through the man who stood as an obstacle to his plans.

But Teach knew the value of patience. He had waited years, biding his time under Whitebeard's banner, playing the role of the unassuming subordinate. What were a few more moments?

Still, his fingers itched. The fruit could be just within reach, hidden somewhere on this island, and every second wasted in posturing brought someone else closer to taking it from him. Teach's ambitions demanded action, but the circumstances shackled him.

He chuckled inwardly, the sound dark and bitter. If only they knew. If only Jozu and Vista understood how little their camaraderie, their so-called family, meant to him. He'd sacrifice them all in a heartbeat if it brought him closer to his goal. Whitebeard, the crew, this alliance—they were all tools to him, stepping stones on his path to ultimate power.