The commotion stirred up by this battle was far from small; the moment the Skinny Bamboo Pole arrived with his men, word spread quickly, and someone immediately rushed off to summon the Royal Guard.
Upon hearing that pirates were causing trouble, King Riku frowned deeply.
Unwilling to entrust the matter entirely to his subordinates, he chose to personally lead a force to investigate the situation, bringing with him several hundred members of the Royal Guard as he advanced toward the source of the disturbance.
By the time Shaq had completely finished off the Skinny Bamboo Pole, King Riku and his men arrived too late to intervene.
What greeted them was a grim sight: broken weapons scattered across the ground, blood staining the earth, and bodies lying motionless in unnatural positions.
Even a seasoned ruler like King Riku paused for a brief moment, his brows tightening at the aftermath of such a one-sided clash.
Steadying himself, he maintained his composure and addressed Shaq, his tone measured yet carrying a trace of respect.
“Hello, young and powerful swordsman.
Would it be convenient for you to explain what happened here?
I am King Riku Dold III of this country.”
Some might question why a king would speak so respectfully to a mere child, but the answer was evident.
Anyone who could stand calmly in the aftermath of such a battle, blade still faintly stained, was not someone to be treated lightly.
The fact that King Riku chose dialogue over force already spoke of both caution and wisdom.
Shaq, for his part, bore no hostility toward the Riku Royal Family that ruled Dressrosa.
King Riku, though not among the strongest rulers in the world, governed with genuine care for his people.
In a world where cruelty and chaos were commonplace, such a man could already be considered rare.
“It was nothing more than a conflict between pirates,” Shaq replied casually, as though describing something trivial.
“There’s no need to worry, Mr.
Dold.
The problem has already been resolved, and he’s admitted his mistake.”
As he spoke, he nudged the fallen pirate lightly with his foot, the body unmoving.
“See?
He’s not saying anything, so that means he agrees.”
King Riku paused briefly at the remark, then let out a quiet breath, choosing not to dwell on the odd humor.
Seeing that his words did not quite land, Shaq lost interest almost immediately.
“Please have this place cleaned up, Mr.
Dold.
I’m a bit tired, so if possible, try to keep the noise down later.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back into the cabin.
After carefully wiping his blade clean, he lay down and fell asleep with surprising ease.
Perhaps it was the influence of this world, or perhaps something within him had already begun to change, but Shaq did not dwell deeply on what he had done.
He had not harmed civilians, and pirates lived by a code where life and death were decided on the sea, while fortune was left to fate.
Even so, as his consciousness faded, a faint awareness lingered an understanding that this path he walked would only grow harsher from here.
Watching Shaq disappear into the cabin, King Riku remained silent for a moment before calmly issuing his orders.
“Clean this place up.
Do your best not to make unnecessary noise.”
In a world where strength often dictated authority, even a king understood when restraint was the wiser choice.
Though the situation carried a trace of unease, the fact that no civilians had been harmed was already a fortunate outcome.
Early the next morning, Shaq rose before dawn and began his training routine, while Newgate remained fast asleep.
The previous day’s battle, where he had faced ten opponents at once, had clearly taken its toll.
Only near midday did Newgate finally emerge from the cabin.
After glancing at the completed Log Pose, he casually instructed Shaq to raise the sails and prepare for departure.
Following the previous day’s display of overwhelming strength, no ships dared linger nearby, allowing them to leave the port without any obstruction.
The weather was exceptionally clear that day.
During a short break, Shaq flipped through the newspaper, though most of its contents were dull reports of Celestial Dragons visiting various nations or news of pirate crews being subdued by the Marines.
Only one headline managed to catch his attention.
“Marine’s new Admiral, ‘Black Arm’ Zephyr, will hold his wedding in three days.”
The announcement stirred faint memories, though Shaq did not linger on them for long.
Everyone walked their own path, and the sea showed no favoritism to anyone.
Now that he had awakened Observation Haki, his focus naturally shifted toward mastering the use of life force itself.
After two days of persistent practice, he finally succeeded on the third day in sensing and drawing upon the subtle vitality present in the surrounding environment.
At present, his ability manifested only as a form of healing, capable of treating injuries sustained in battle.
However, it remained ineffective against illness, something that would require further refinement in the future.
Even so, it was more than sufficient for now.
Most of Newgate’s future burdens would stem from accumulated injuries and the strain of his Devil Fruit, while any sickness would simply come with age.
“Old Man, do you think I can count as half a ship doctor now?” Shaq asked, a hint of pride slipping into his voice after demonstrating his newly developed ability.
“Gurararara!
Of course!
That’s a fine ability you’ve got there!” Newgate replied with a booming laugh.
As time passed, a thin mist began to rise from the sea, gradually thickening around them.
Neither Shaq nor Newgate paid it much attention, allowing their small vessel to drift straight into the fog.
Then, without warning, a voice echoed within Shaq’s mind.
“Is that you… Joy Boy?”
The sound was distant yet immense, carrying a weight that made Shaq stiffen instantly.
Clutching his head, he muttered, “Who… who’s speaking?”
Newgate immediately noticed the change and stepped forward, gripping his shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Shaq?!”
“There’s a voice… it’s inside my head… Old Man, you don’t hear it?” Shaq asked, his expression tense, though not overwhelmed.
“Voice?
I don’t hear anything,” Newgate replied, his gaze sharpening.
The presence faded for a moment, only to return again, softer this time yet unmistakably clear.
“Keep going forward… I am waiting for you.”
Shaq inhaled slowly, forcing himself to steady his thoughts.
“Old Man… keep heading forward.
Something out there is calling.”
Without hesitation, Newgate adjusted their course, guiding the ship deeper into the mist.
The voice resurfaced intermittently, each time clearer than before, as though confirming their direction rather than overwhelming him.
After more than half a day of sailing, night gradually fell.
By then, Shaq had already begun to suspect the identity behind the voice, though one question lingered why had it mistaken him for Joy Boy?
In the distance, faint outlines began to emerge through the darkness enormous silhouettes rising from the sea, towering into the sky like pillars that connected ocean and heavens.
As their boat drew closer, the mist slowly parted, revealing their true scale.
The sight caused even Newgate to pause, his eyes narrowing slightly in rare surprise.
“You have finally arrived…” The voice echoed once more, calmer now.
“No… that is not correct.”
“That’s right,” Shaq said, lifting his gaze toward the massive figure.
“I’m not Joy Boy.
You’re Zunesha, aren’t you?”
A deep silence followed before the response came.
“Yes… I am called Zunesha.
But you are not him, nor are you his companion.
So why can you hear my voice?”
“Maybe it’s my Devil Fruit,” Shaq replied after a brief pause, “or maybe it’s something I’ve always had.
Either way, I can hear you.”
“Devil Fruit…”
A massive trunk slowly extended toward them, its movement steady and overwhelming in scale.
Newgate immediately tightened his grip, his body instinctively shifting into a guarded stance.
A creature of such magnitude was beyond anything he had encountered before.
“Wait, Old Man,” Shaq said quickly.
“He’s not hostile.”
Newgate glanced at him, then gradually relaxed, lowering his guard though not completely.
“You were speaking to it just now?”
Shaq nodded.
The enormous trunk dipped into the sea before rising again, lifting their small vessel effortlessly upward, carrying them through the mist and into the clouds.
Soon, they found themselves before a colossal head, vast as a mountain.
Two immense, hollow sockets emitted a faint glow in the darkness, like eyes that had watched countless ages pass.
The trunk guided their boat closer.
“You… possess a presence unlike the others…” the voice rumbled, now filled with quiet astonishment.
“Though you are not Joy Boy… there is something within you that resonates with that era…”
The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning, as the ancient being observed him in silence.