Roldy stood there like a steel tower.
His overwhelming presence formed an invisible barrier around him. Outwardly patient, inwardly dismissive—this was a hunt with a predetermined outcome.
A seasoned predator.
Facing naïve rabbits.
In the darkness, more than a dozen figures finally arrived.
A series of sharp air-splitting sounds rang out.
Thirteen men in black suits appeared before him in an instant.
They were impeccably dressed—tailored suits, polished shoes, black medieval-style top hats. Their posture was refined, their bearing elegant. The leader even wore a monocle.
Whether viewed individually or as a whole—
They exuded sophistication.
"Ah… so it's you stray dogs."
Roldy's voice carried killing intent.
He recognized them.
The infamous Gentleman Pirates.
Cunning and disciplined, they were known for rejecting Devil Fruits—believing such powers would ruin the natural elegance of the human body. Every member was a master of physical combat.
At their peak, they had numbered over ninety.
After massacring a peaceful island, they had the misfortune of drawing Zephyr's attention.
Roldy had participated in that purge.
Their captain had been especially memorable—strong enough to rival a Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral.
Even their weakest member had matched Marine Headquarters officer-level strength.
In the New World, they would have been formidable.
But they ran into Zephyr—
And the rising Roldy.
Their captain had been crushed mercilessly by Roldy.
The monocled man before him had been the surviving vice-captain.
However—
Roldy frowned slightly.
The numbers were wrong.
"You—Fitt Roldy! You dare show yourself at Marine Headquarters?!"
The monocled man's voice trembled with fear.
He would never forget his proud captain being beaten to death by this brute.
And after Roldy defected from the Marines and rose to terrifying fame across the seas—
Revenge had become unthinkable.
But why was he here?
Hadn't he betrayed the Marines?
Roldy had no interest in conversation.
Their purpose was obvious.
He grinned viciously—
And moved.
In the blink of an eye, dull thuds echoed through the night.
Bones shattered.
Screams tore through the darkness.
Blood splattered across the ground.
Thirteen men—
Reduced to pulp within seconds.
The monocled vice-captain included.
Only one remained.
Held tightly in Roldy's grasp.
Limbs shattered.
Barely conscious.
Roldy reached forward and removed the man's hat.
"You're not one of them."
His tone was certain.
The Gentleman Pirates had only nine survivors after that battle.
Yet thirteen had come tonight.
And during their pitiful resistance—
He had noticed something.
Their movements bore traces of Rokushiki.
The Six Powers of Marine Headquarters.
Under Fleet Admiral Sengoku's administration, internal betrayal was nearly impossible—especially at a level rivaling Marine Headquarters Vice Admirals.
Which left only one conclusion.
"You came back, Roldy… seems the Marines truly aren't trustworthy…"
The man forced a grin.
Begging was pointless.
In Roldy's hands, survival was fantasy.
"World Government… CP0 agents," Roldy growled. "Those five old bastards have no shame. Using filth like this against a decorated veteran."
Rage surged through him.
His grip tightened.
The agent let out a choking gasp—
And was crushed like a duck in a vise.
Blood seeped between Roldy's fingers.
His gaze turned darker still.
If he hadn't arrived tonight—
What kind of hell would Zephyr have faced?
Relief flickered—
Then vanished.
His pupils shrank.
No.
This wasn't all.
The World Government would never commit only this much.
If four elite CP0 agents were sent here to die—
What kind of force awaited Zephyr?
Zephyr was strong.
He had taught Roldy hand-to-hand combat.
But he was aging.
And years of smoking and drinking had left him with severe asthma.
Roldy's chest tightened as though gripped by an invisible hand.
He didn't even have time to say goodbye.
He turned—
Only to find a figure arriving belatedly.
White leather shoes stepped across the blood-soaked ground.
A yellow-striped suit gleamed under the night sky.
"Yo~ As expected of you, Roldy. Didn't even take ten minutes, huh? That's troublesome. If I had to fight you head-on… I might get beaten badly."
Borsalino smiled faintly.
Roldy's voice turned glacial.
"You're going to stop me?"
There was genuine killing intent in his eyes.
Yes.
He was prepared to kill his former comrade.
But Borsalino seemed unfazed.
His tone remained lazy.
Yet beneath that laziness—
Was unmistakable confidence.
"No choice," he sighed. "Even if I get beaten to death… it's still my mission."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So, Roldy…"
"Would you mind resting here for half a day?"
Roldy stood there like a steel tower.
His overwhelming presence formed an invisible barrier around him. Outwardly patient, inwardly dismissive—this was a hunt with a predetermined outcome.
A seasoned predator.
Facing naïve rabbits.
In the darkness, more than a dozen figures finally arrived.
A series of sharp air-splitting sounds rang out.
Thirteen men in black suits appeared before him in an instant.
They were impeccably dressed—tailored suits, polished shoes, black medieval-style top hats. Their posture was refined, their bearing elegant. The leader even wore a monocle.
Whether viewed individually or as a whole—
They exuded sophistication.
"Ah… so it's you stray dogs."
Roldy's voice carried killing intent.
He recognized them.
The infamous Gentleman Pirates.
Cunning and disciplined, they were known for rejecting Devil Fruits—believing such powers would ruin the natural elegance of the human body. Every member was a master of physical combat.
At their peak, they had numbered over ninety.
After massacring a peaceful island, they had the misfortune of drawing Zephyr's attention.
Roldy had participated in that purge.
Their captain had been especially memorable—strong enough to rival a Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral.
Even their weakest member had matched Marine Headquarters officer-level strength.
In the New World, they would have been formidable.
But they ran into Zephyr—
And the rising Roldy.
Their captain had been crushed mercilessly by Roldy.
The monocled man before him had been the surviving vice-captain.
However—
Roldy frowned slightly.
The numbers were wrong.
"You—Fitt Roldy! You dare show yourself at Marine Headquarters?!"
The monocled man's voice trembled with fear.
He would never forget his proud captain being beaten to death by this brute.
And after Roldy defected from the Marines and rose to terrifying fame across the seas—
Revenge had become unthinkable.
But why was he here?
Hadn't he betrayed the Marines?
Roldy had no interest in conversation.
Their purpose was obvious.
He grinned viciously—
And moved.
In the blink of an eye, dull thuds echoed through the night.
Bones shattered.
Screams tore through the darkness.
Blood splattered across the ground.
Thirteen men—
Reduced to pulp within seconds.
The monocled vice-captain included.
Only one remained.
Held tightly in Roldy's grasp.
Limbs shattered.
Barely conscious.
Roldy reached forward and removed the man's hat.
"You're not one of them."
His tone was certain.
The Gentleman Pirates had only nine survivors after that battle.
Yet thirteen had come tonight.
And during their pitiful resistance—
He had noticed something.
Their movements bore traces of Rokushiki.
The Six Powers of Marine Headquarters.
Under Fleet Admiral Sengoku's administration, internal betrayal was nearly impossible—especially at a level rivaling Marine Headquarters Vice Admirals.
Which left only one conclusion.
"You came back, Roldy… seems the Marines truly aren't trustworthy…"
The man forced a grin.
Begging was pointless.
In Roldy's hands, survival was fantasy.
"World Government… CP0 agents," Roldy growled. "Those five old bastards have no shame. Using filth like this against a decorated veteran."
Rage surged through him.
His grip tightened.
The agent let out a choking gasp—
And was crushed like a duck in a vise.
Blood seeped between Roldy's fingers.
His gaze turned darker still.
If he hadn't arrived tonight—
What kind of hell would Zephyr have faced?
Relief flickered—
Then vanished.
His pupils shrank.
No.
This wasn't all.
The World Government would never commit only this much.
If four elite CP0 agents were sent here to die—
What kind of force awaited Zephyr?
Zephyr was strong.
He had taught Roldy hand-to-hand combat.
But he was aging.
And years of smoking and drinking had left him with severe asthma.
Roldy's chest tightened as though gripped by an invisible hand.
He didn't even have time to say goodbye.
He turned—
Only to find a figure arriving belatedly.
White leather shoes stepped across the blood-soaked ground.
A yellow-striped suit gleamed under the night sky.
"Yo~ As expected of you, Roldy. Didn't even take ten minutes, huh? That's troublesome. If I had to fight you head-on… I might get beaten badly."
Borsalino smiled faintly.
Roldy's voice turned glacial.
"You're going to stop me?"
There was genuine killing intent in his eyes.
Yes.
He was prepared to kill his former comrade.
But Borsalino seemed unfazed.
His tone remained lazy.
Yet beneath that laziness—
Was unmistakable confidence.
"No choice," he sighed. "Even if I get beaten to death… it's still my mission."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So, Roldy…"
"Would you mind resting here for half a day?"
Roldy stood there like a steel tower.
His overwhelming presence formed an invisible barrier around him. Outwardly patient, inwardly dismissive—this was a hunt with a predetermined outcome.
A seasoned predator.
Facing naïve rabbits.
In the darkness, more than a dozen figures finally arrived.
A series of sharp air-splitting sounds rang out.
Thirteen men in black suits appeared before him in an instant.
They were impeccably dressed—tailored suits, polished shoes, black medieval-style top hats. Their posture was refined, their bearing elegant. The leader even wore a monocle.
Whether viewed individually or as a whole—
They exuded sophistication.
"Ah… so it's you stray dogs."
Roldy's voice carried killing intent.
He recognized them.
The infamous Gentleman Pirates.
Cunning and disciplined, they were known for rejecting Devil Fruits—believing such powers would ruin the natural elegance of the human body. Every member was a master of physical combat.
At their peak, they had numbered over ninety.
After massacring a peaceful island, they had the misfortune of drawing Zephyr's attention.
Roldy had participated in that purge.
Their captain had been especially memorable—strong enough to rival a Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral.
Even their weakest member had matched Marine Headquarters officer-level strength.
In the New World, they would have been formidable.
But they ran into Zephyr—
And the rising Roldy.
Their captain had been crushed mercilessly by Roldy.
The monocled man before him had been the surviving vice-captain.
However—
Roldy frowned slightly.
The numbers were wrong.
"You—Fitt Roldy! You dare show yourself at Marine Headquarters?!"
The monocled man's voice trembled with fear.
He would never forget his proud captain being beaten to death by this brute.
And after Roldy defected from the Marines and rose to terrifying fame across the seas—
Revenge had become unthinkable.
But why was he here?
Hadn't he betrayed the Marines?
Roldy had no interest in conversation.
Their purpose was obvious.
He grinned viciously—
And moved.
In the blink of an eye, dull thuds echoed through the night.
Bones shattered.
Screams tore through the darkness.
Blood splattered across the ground.
Thirteen men—
Reduced to pulp within seconds.
The monocled vice-captain included.
Only one remained.
Held tightly in Roldy's grasp.
Limbs shattered.
Barely conscious.
Roldy reached forward and removed the man's hat.
"You're not one of them."
His tone was certain.
The Gentleman Pirates had only nine survivors after that battle.
Yet thirteen had come tonight.
And during their pitiful resistance—
He had noticed something.
Their movements bore traces of Rokushiki.
The Six Powers of Marine Headquarters.
Under Fleet Admiral Sengoku's administration, internal betrayal was nearly impossible—especially at a level rivaling Marine Headquarters Vice Admirals.
Which left only one conclusion.
"You came back, Roldy… seems the Marines truly aren't trustworthy…"
The man forced a grin.
Begging was pointless.
In Roldy's hands, survival was fantasy.
"World Government… CP0 agents," Roldy growled. "Those five old bastards have no shame. Using filth like this against a decorated veteran."
Rage surged through him.
His grip tightened.
The agent let out a choking gasp—
And was crushed like a duck in a vise.
Blood seeped between Roldy's fingers.
His gaze turned darker still.
If he hadn't arrived tonight—
What kind of hell would Zephyr have faced?
Relief flickered—
Then vanished.
His pupils shrank.
No.
This wasn't all.
The World Government would never commit only this much.
If four elite CP0 agents were sent here to die—
What kind of force awaited Zephyr?
Zephyr was strong.
He had taught Roldy hand-to-hand combat.
But he was aging.
And years of smoking and drinking had left him with severe asthma.
Roldy's chest tightened as though gripped by an invisible hand.
He didn't even have time to say goodbye.
He turned—
Only to find a figure arriving belatedly.
White leather shoes stepped across the blood-soaked ground.
A yellow-striped suit gleamed under the night sky.
"Yo~ As expected of you, Roldy. Didn't even take ten minutes, huh? That's troublesome. If I had to fight you head-on… I might get beaten badly."
Borsalino smiled faintly.
Roldy's voice turned glacial.
"You're going to stop me?"
There was genuine killing intent in his eyes.
Yes.
He was prepared to kill his former comrade.
But Borsalino seemed unfazed.
His tone remained lazy.
Yet beneath that laziness—
Was unmistakable confidence.
"No choice," he sighed. "Even if I get beaten to death… it's still my mission."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So, Roldy…"
"Would you mind resting here for half a day?"
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