There was a note of pleading in his voice—almost like he was trying to unburden himself.
This was the highest form of respect a sea tyrant could offer to a fellow powerhouse of the same tier.
"Take my father, my mother—and all my clan members—down to the shore."
The moment the words left his mouth, Rocks' father and mother—along with every single Davie clansman—froze in shock.
Their minds were still echoing with the father-and-son argument from moments ago, and now Rocks had thrown out a request so outrageous it left them completely stunned.
Rocks didn't care how his clan reacted.
His gaze stayed locked onto Lucian.
He added another line—one that carried near-absolute trust in Lucian's strength.
"With your ability, getting your hands on a warship shouldn't be a problem."
This wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
In Rocks' eyes, if Lucian wanted a Navy battleship, it would be no harder than walking up the road and kicking away a stray dog.
Then he revealed the true destination—an arrangement he'd clearly planned long ago.
"And then… I'll have to trouble you to personally escort them to the Kingdom of Lulusia."
"Once they arrive… your job is done."
When he said those last four words, there was grit in Rocks' voice, like sand caught in his throat.
After speaking, Rocks took a deep breath, as if forcing all his grand pride back down into his lungs.
Then he offered the vow of a king.
But that vow carried the tragic weight of something that might never be paid.
"If I, Rocks… am still alive—then in the future, come find me on Hachinosu!"
"I'll repay you with something you can't even imagine!"
And the instant he finished—
Something happened that made everyone's jaw drop.
Rocks.
The sea tyrant who ruled the oceans and gave the World Government headaches.
The ruthless overlord who had just crushed a Celestial Dragon's skull under his boot.
He slowly, formally, bent the spine that had never once bowed to anyone—
And bowed toward Lucian.
Ninety degrees.
A flawless bow.
This was a king's highest gratitude to another strong man.
And also a son's final plea for his family.
Boom—!
That gesture hit like thunder, stunning the entire Davie Clan.
His father Axe stood there in sheer disbelief, mouth hanging wide enough to swallow a goose egg.
His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
He knew his son better than anyone.
Was this really his Rocks—who would rather fight the entire world than lower his head—
Bowing like this to some unknown masked man?!
Rocks' mother clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out.
Tears instantly blurred her vision.
More than anyone, she understood just how proud her son was.
This bow wasn't a request.
It was him handing over the clan's life—
The clan's future—
To someone else's hands.
But Lucian… didn't accept it.
Just as Rocks was about to lower his head fully, Lucian moved.
He slid half a step to the left.
Not too much.
Not too little.
Exactly half a body's width.
He avoided the crushing weight of that trust—
Yet didn't completely humiliate Rocks either.
Lucian remained lazily leaning against the rock, as if nothing had happened.
He simply stared at Rocks with an unreadable gaze that seemed to see straight through a man's heart, and asked flatly:
"What about you?"
Three words.
Straight to the point.
Rocks slowly straightened.
Hearing that question, the heaviness on his face vanished, replaced by the madness and resolve of a true warlord.
Fire returned to his eyes—enough to burn the seas dry.
"Newgate and the others are still waiting for me!"
His voice rose, bold and absolute.
"I, Rocks, would never abandon my brothers and run off alone!"
And with that, he didn't look at Lucian again.
He turned sharply and strode toward his mother.
All of his dominance, madness, and iron resolve—
Melted into softness the instant he reached her.
Like a child finally returning home, he hugged her tightly—hard enough to make it hurt—and buried his head deep into her narrow shoulder.
In a voice only the two of them could hear, he whispered:
"Goodbye, Mother."
His voice was so gentle it carried a faint, almost childish nasal tone.
"Don't worry… you'll be safe."
Lilith hugged the son who stood a whole head taller than her.
Her aged hands patted his back again and again, forcefully—as if she could hammer safety into him through sheer will.
Her voice shook beyond control, and soon her tears soaked through his clothes.
"Then what about you?"
"My child… what about you?"
Rocks didn't answer immediately.
He only held her tighter, as if trying to carve this warmth into his soul forever.
Then he raised his head.
In those eyes—so identical to hers—every trace of tenderness receded like a tide.
What remained was blade-like certainty.
"Mother."
He spoke slowly, clearly.
"I'm going to… face this world."
It should have been a scene where warmth and tragedy met.
But it was torn apart by a furious roar like thunder.
"You unfilial bastard!!!"
Axe finally snapped out of his shock.
He pointed at his son's back, shaking so violently the veins in his neck bulged.
"You're still going in?!"
"Are you trying to die on this island?!"
Huh?
Rocks slowly released his mother and turned back toward his father.
There was no retreat on his face.
No fear.
Instead—
The grin on his lips only widened.
And then, without warning, that signature laugh exploded out of him.
"Zehahahahahahaha!"
The laughter was pure arrogance—
Contempt for death—
And the cruelest mockery of the world's so-called "reason."
"Old man!"
Rocks wiped the tears that laughter had squeezed from his eyes.
Then he pointed at his father, laughing so hard tears almost fell again.
"You're not dead yet—so how the hell would I die?!"
That insane line clogged every ounce of Axe's fury in his throat.
His face turned red, and not a single word came out.
Rocks' laughter abruptly stopped.
And in the next moment—
He didn't look back.
Not at his mother with tear-streaked cheeks.
Not at his father trembling with rage.
Not at the clan watching with tangled emotions.
Not even at the mysterious brother he'd entrusted everything to.
He stepped forward.
Heavy.
Yet unshakably firm.
Alone, he walked toward the island's depths—toward the thickest smoke, the densest killing intent.
That was where his brothers were.
That was where his unfinished ambition waited.
That was where fate had prepared his battlefield.
The camera pulled back.
In the frame, that tall silhouette marched into the storm that would swallow everything.
Behind him—
Were the clan's eyes full of worry, anger, grief… and awe.
Behind him was family.
Ahead of him—
Was hell.