Legacy of the Six Paths Senjutsu

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"Then let's see, Ayr," John snapped, spitting the words like venom as he spun his small vessel away from the coast without a second glance.

Silver Axe added with a grim undertone, "Looking forward to our next encounter at sea. Just don't die at the hands of someone else before then."

Ayr's smile sharpened. "Don't make grand declarations before fleeing the scene—it only makes you look pathetic, Silver Axe."

That hit a nerve. Silver Axe's face twisted with fury, fists clenching as his knuckles turned white. He wanted to lunge, to silence the mockery with his blade, but instinct held him back. He wasn't blind to Ayr's absurd regenerative stamina—what had seemed like a dying man was already regaining strength.

Striking now, with Golden Lion and Whitebeard still present, would be suicide. Those two wouldn't let a cheap blow slide. They might've been allies in the moment, but no one trusted a backstabber on this battlefield.

Growling under his breath, Silver Axe turned away with bitter reluctance and boarded a nearby escape craft, casting one last murderous glare over his shoulder.

Ochoku didn't utter a word. He simply followed, vanishing into the horizon on his own path.

Left behind on the ruined Rocks' ship were only Ayr, Charlotte Linlin, Kaido, Golden Lion, and Whitebeard—five figures whose names would soon shake the seas.

Golden Lion took a long drag of his cigar, the ember glowing as he exhaled a lazy swirl of smoke that curled upward like a dragon. His gaze never left Ayr.

"The Rocks crew is finished," he said, voice low and deliberate. "What's your next move?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead," Ayr replied, not pretending otherwise. His thoughts were scattered, driven more by instinct than strategy. Right now, all that pulled at him was the compulsive desire to hunt and claim powerful Devil Fruits—his obsession, his path.

Golden Lion clicked his tongue, genuinely disappointed. "Tch… what a waste. If you joined my crew, we could rewrite the rules of the sea. No navy or pirate alliance could stop us."

Having witnessed Ayr's performance at the Valley of the Gods with his own eyes, Shiki was certain—together, they could seize control of the New World itself.

Ayr's expression remained unreadable. "That sort of plan… don't pin your hopes on it, Shiki. But if trouble finds you and you come bearing Devil Fruits, I might consider lending a hand."

It wasn't a promise, but the door had been left ajar.

Golden Lion's eyes sparked with renewed interest. He knew the value of Ayr's strength, and if Devil Fruits were the price, the trade seemed more than worth it.

"I don't know why you're collecting them, but… are you being serious about this?" he asked, tone now cautious but intrigued.

Devil Fruits were more than rare—they were weapons, catalysts for world-changing power. Even one could tip the scales of war. The idea of offering several in return for Ayr's assistance wasn't just risky—it was monumental.

Ayr gave a slow nod. "Completely. But I don't work for cheap. The harder the task, the higher the fruit count. That's the rule."

Charlotte Linlin burst out in her signature laugh, voice rolling like thunder. "Ma~mamama… that's a fair deal, Ayr."

He turned to her, the smile on his face vanishing into something colder. "Just don't waste my time with a handful of scraps. If the number's too low, don't bother asking."

Kaido, arms folded, didn't speak—but his eyes flickered with interest.

Eventually, they each went their own way, splitting like fragments of a shattered empire. Ayr and Whitebeard headed toward a nearby cove where they shared a drink beneath the dying sun, two titans surrounded by silence and seafoam.

---

The Next Day — Holy Land Mariejois, Pangaea Castle, Room of the Five Elders

In the chamber cloaked with gold, stone, and centuries of imperial arrogance, one of the Five Elders—an aged figure with a long katana resting beside him—sat rigidly on a crimson couch, holding a den den mushi receiver against his ear.

The voice on the other end belonged to a senior Marine officer, relaying the classified report from the Valley of the Gods.

With every sentence, the katana elder's expression twisted further into a scowl. His fingers curled tighter around the receiver, until finally he slammed it down onto the table with a sound that cracked through the silence like a whip.

"This is unacceptable. This has to be some kind of joke," he growled. "We lost Deros, Brownie, Zhenwu, and the Black Bat Admirals… and the only one we killed was Rocks?"

Their grand strategy had been nothing less than full annihilation of the Rocks Pirates. The World Government had pulled every string, mobilized their most elite forces—Fleet Admiral Kong, the top-tier admirals, and even Deros, the most notorious executioner in the CPO arsenal.

To secure victory, they had even forged fragile alliances with two of their most unpredictable enemies—the Roger Pirates and the Wald Pirates under Golden Lion.

And yet, the sole confirmed kill from that colossal effort was the leader they expected to be the hardest to bring down. The rest had survived.

The plan had been simple: crush the pirate monster known as Rocks, eliminate Ayr—the other growing nightmare—and scatter the remnants like dust in the wind. But now, the aftermath told a different story.

"If Ayr had perished alongside Rocks, the cost of this operation might have been justifiable," said the long-haired elder, his voice flat with disappointment. "Instead, only Rocks died—and Ayr survived without so much as a lasting wound."

In their minds, Rocks and Ayr had represented the twin threats capable of upending the global balance. One had been neutralized, but the other—arguably the more dangerous of the two—was still very much alive and growing.

The elder in glasses leaned forward, face grim. "He's surpassed Kong. That alone tells us everything. Just a few years ago, he was trading blows with Garp… now he's brought down the symbol of Marine supremacy. We let him grow too far beyond our reach."

Ayr's meteoric rise had stunned even them, and they were not men who were easily shocked.

The silver-haired elder sighed with a strange trace of regret. "Had he been born into our ranks, perhaps he would have become the sword of absolute justice. Under Imu-sama's command, he could've changed the world."

It was a fantasy now, but the missed opportunity lingered like rot in their minds.

"We failed to identify him in time," muttered the bearded elder, eyes shadowed. "He slipped through our fingers and landed right in the heart of the Rocks crew."

And worse than the missed chance… was the storm on the horizon.

"He's no longer a hidden threat. He's an oncoming disaster," snapped the black-suited elder, his voice rising with rare fury. "And the Marines let him walk free!"

With Ayr now powerful enough to challenge even top-level forces, eliminating him in the future wouldn't just be difficult—it would require another war, perhaps even costlier than this one.

Still, the Marines weren't the only ones to blame.

"The Roger Pirates shoulder part of the fault," the blond elder stated, voice measured but accusing. "They helped eliminate Rocks, yes. But when our Admirals moved to strike down Ayr in the chaos, Roger's crew stepped in."

Rayleigh and Jabba had shielded Ayr—intentionally or not, it had saved his life.

Had they simply stood aside, Ayr would've died amidst the confusion. Instead, their so-called allies had protected the one pirate they all should have feared.

"Pirates… are never to be trusted," growled the black-suited elder again, this time his voice like a drawn blade. "They laugh with you one moment, then plunge the knife in the next."

All five of them sat in the heavy stillness that followed—an atmosphere thick with frustration, failure, and the bitter taste of reality.

They had gambled everything on one decisive campaign—troops, alliances, prestige, and secrets—and in return, they had lost four of their most formidable assets while allowing a monster like Ayr to emerge from the flames stronger than ever.

And now, he walked the seas freely, hunted Devil Fruits obsessively, and waited… for the next opportunity.

They had not destroyed a future tyrant. They had merely enraged him.

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