He defined it himself.
Roger’s son is evil, Whitebeard’s crew is evil, those who flee from the battlefield are evil, and those who dare to question are also evil.
Everything is evil.
Except for himself.
On the light screen, a full-body image of Akainu standing in a sea of fire was displayed.
Magma was beneath his feet, and a burning battlefield was behind him.
His military cap was pressed very low, and the eyes beneath the brim showed no emotion.
On the Marineford plaza.
One hundred thousand Marines watched this scene.
Their reactions were polarized.
The faces of several old staff officers in the front row changed; they thought of the Buster Call, they thought of Ohara.
They thought of the seeds planted many years ago.
But in the back row…
in the back row were those young soldiers, fresh out of the training camp, raised on the concept of Justice.
Their eyes lit up.
A corporal gripped his rifle, his jaw tightening: “Admiral Akainu is right.
Pirates are evil.
If we don’t wipe them out, this world will never know peace.” A veteran next to him slapped him: “Shut up, you wet-behind-the-ears brat.” But the veteran’s expression wasn’t great either.
Because a voice in his heart was saying: There is no such thing as absolute justice in this world; absolute justice only invites greater evil…
Akainu, outside the light screen, spoke.
That light screen is right.
Everyone in the plaza turned their heads.
Akainu’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word carried heat.
Pirates are evil, Roger’s bloodline is a hidden danger; if even one escapes, it will be a new disaster ten years later.
He turned around, facing the plaza.
You should know what pirates do after they escape?
Go back to recruit men, form new pirate crews, and then stir up wars on the sea again?
No one answered.
Akainu took a step forward.
Justice needs no mercy.
These words fell on the plaza like a piece of red-hot iron thrown into cold water.
It hissed.
Some felt their whole bodies heat up hearing it, while others felt their scalps go numb.
Sengoku listened to these words from behind a window.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
…
Past timeline, tavern.
Roger stopped drinking.
He pushed the glass aside, pressed both hands on the table, and stared at the light screen.
He saw the entire process of his son’s death.
Every detail.
The moment Ace stopped in his tracks.
The moment the magma pierced through his body.
The moment he fell into Luffy’s arms.
Rayleigh sat nearby, a cigarette held between his fingers, unlit.
Roger’s hands remained pressed on the table for a long time.
A crack split the tavern’s wooden table under his palms.
The tavern was silent for a few seconds.
Roger suddenly looked up.
Rayleigh.
Yeah.
That brat Ace…
his temper is exactly like mine.
Rayleigh exhaled a breath of smoke.
Isn’t that the truth.
Roger didn’t speak again.
He looked at the frozen image of Ace falling on the light screen, his right hand resting on the tabletop, his fingers tightening one by one.
He couldn’t laugh anymore.
This was the first time since Gol D.
Roger started watching the sky screen that he was completely unable to laugh.
…
On the light screen, Ace stood in front of him.
Magma pierced in from the back and bored out from the chest.
Red magma rolled on that fist, burning through Ace’s body.
Ace lowered his head and glanced at the hole in his chest.
Luffy knelt on the ground, catching the falling Ace with both hands.
Ace’s mouth was still moving, saying something.
The voice was very soft, but the light screen amplified every word, sending them to every corner of the entire sea.
I’m sorry…
Luffy…
for making you go to such reckless lengths for me…
Ace closed his eyes.
The smiley and crying face badges on his hat were covered in blood; they rolled off his head, clattering to a stop near Luffy’s knees.
Luffy on the light screen didn’t speak.
His mouth was open, but he couldn’t make a sound.
Tears streamed down his face.
One drop, two drops, and then they flowed incessantly.
He held Ace, holding him so tightly, as if the person would completely disappear if he let go.
Then he screamed.
That sound was not something a human could normally produce.
His throat was already torn, and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth, but he was still screaming.
He screamed until there was no sound left, only the airflow in his throat rushing out in bursts.
On the Foosha Village pier.
The real Luffy squatted at the bow of the small boat, his straw hat fallen on the deck, but he didn’t go to pick it up.
He watched himself on the light screen, howling while holding Ace.
His tears were already falling.
Luffy was not a person who liked to cry.
He didn’t cry when Shanks left, he didn’t cry when he was beaten by his grandfather, and he didn’t cry when he drifted alone at sea for half a day and was almost eaten by Sea Kings.
But not this time.
That was Ace.
His brother.
The brother who caught crocodiles in the mountains, stole wine to drink, and was chased and beaten by Aunt Curly Dadan with him.
The person who clinked glasses with him and Sabo and said, “We are brothers.” Dead.
Died to save him.
Ace…
Luffy’s voice squeezed out of his throat, thin and hoarse.
On the pier, Makino covered her mouth with both hands.
She knew Ace.
That boy who often came to her tavern with Luffy to scrounge for food when they were little—black hair, face full of freckles, a foul and stubborn temper, but who would awkwardly say “Thanks” every time after finishing a meal.
The village chief stood behind her, his old eyes full of tears.
The images on the light screen continued.
Austin’s narration was very low.
After losing Ace, Luffy suffered a mental breakdown.
On the screen, Luffy was being carried away from the battlefield by Jinbe.
His eyes were empty.
His mouth was open, saliva and blood mixing and dripping down.
His pupils were dilated, showing no reaction to any external stimuli.
He was taken to Amazon Lily.
He was unconscious for a long time.
The first thing he did after waking up was to practice Haki…
I’m too weak…
I couldn’t even protect Ace.
The Luffy in Foosha Village looked at the version of himself on the light screen who was in a state of utter wretchedness.
His tears were still flowing.
But his teeth were clenched.
Two hard lumps of muscle bulged in his cheeks, and his teeth ground together with a creak.
He stood up.
The small boat swayed twice under his feet.
I don’t want it to be like this, Luffy said.
His voice wasn’t loud.
Everyone on the pier was looking at the sky screen; no one noticed him.
Luffy raised his hand and wiped all the tears and snot off his face with his sleeve.
He grabbed the straw hat that had fallen on the deck and slapped it back onto his head.
He looked up and stared at the light screen.
The light screen was still broadcasting.
Austin’s narration was still talking about how Luffy later trained for two years under Rayleigh’s guidance and how he returned to the sea.
But Luffy didn’t need to listen anymore.
Everything he needed to know, he already knew.
Ace would die.
To save him.
Because he was too weak.
So weak that he could only be protected by someone else’s life.
Makino, nearby, was startled and turned her head while wiping her tears.
Luffy stood on the small boat, the tear stains on his face not yet dry.
But his eyes were already different.
How to put it.
Since Makino first knew Luffy, there had always been something in this child’s eyes, very bright, very clean, like a light that had never been polluted by anything.
He found everything interesting and maintained curiosity about everything.
That light was still there now.
But there was an extra layer of something beneath it.
Something that had sunk down, been suppressed—something that was no longer that of a child.
I will become stronger.
Just that one sentence.
No grand rhetoric, no chest-thumping, no shouting slogans.
That light screen still hung in the sky.
People all over the sea were still watching.
Billions of people stared at the same screen; some were crying, some were cursing, and some were calculating what to do next.
Luffy didn’t care about any of that.
He clenched his fists, clenching them until the veins on the back of his hands stood out one by one.
Ace.
He whispered the name once.
Wait for me.