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Chapter 261: Kaido's Ambition
Kaido picked up a fresh bottle of sake but didn't drink. Instead, he stared intensely at the liquid swirling within the glass.
King stood silently for a moment before nodding. "I saw it clearly. That was real flesh and blood. And... it was muscle mass at its peak condition. Perhaps even stronger than before."
Hearing this, Kaido's grip on the bottle tightened abruptly.
Crack.
The glass bottle shattered, spiderweb fractures spreading instantly.
"Severed limbs regenerated... Youth restored..." Kaido rumbled, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "And that bizarre spatial ability..."
Kaido's mind flashed back to the newspaper he had seen a few days prior. The report about the "God of East Blue." At the time, he had scoffed at it, dismissing it as Morgans, that bird-man, sensationalizing headlines again. He had even thought Whitebeard and Big Mom had gone senile for running off to East Blue.
But now? Reality had just slapped him hard across the face.
Golden Lion Shiki. That old relic with one foot in the grave had gone to East Blue and undergone a metamorphosis. He had returned strong enough to drag a current Emperor like Kaido across the ground.
What did this mean?
It meant the rumors were true. That guy named Blake... was truly selling "miracles."
"Worororo..."
Kaido began to chuckle. The sound started low in his chest, rising in pitch until it became a manic, thunderous roar.
"Wororororo!!"
"Interesting! This is too interesting!"
The shame he had initially felt was swept away, replaced by a scorching, fanatical desire. It was a hunger for power—a greed to shatter his bottlenecks and transcend his limits.
If a has-been like the Golden Lion could do it, then why couldn't he? Why couldn't Kaido, the strongest creature, do the same?
If he could obtain that power...
The Marine Headquarters, the World Government, Joy Boy... he would crush them all beneath his feet!
"Listen up, you brats!!"
Kaido surged to his feet, his massive iron club pointing straight toward the east. The aura of the Governor-General of the Beasts Pirates, the tyrant who dominated the world, exploded from his body.
"Raise the sails! Full canvas!"
"Fire up all engines!"
"Target: East Blue! Foosha Village!"
Kaido's eyes shone with the green glint of a starving wolf.
"Whatever price Shiki that bastard paid, I'll pay double! No, ten times!"
"I'm going to take that 'Dungeon'... and make it mine!"
Deep Sea, 10,000 Meters Down.
Here, in the sunless depths where giant Sea Kings roamed in the dark, a massive whale-shaped ship was slowly navigating a submarine canyon, encased in a transparent coating bubble.
The Moby Dick.
The flagship carrying the legacy of the "Strongest Man in the World" was unusually quiet.
On the deck, a team of nurses moved with practiced urgency. IV drips and monitoring equipment formed a dense web around a central figure. Sitting amidst the tubes was a man like a mountain.
Edward Newgate. Whitebeard.
The legend who once vied for supremacy with the Pirate King, Roger, sat with his eyes closed. Even seated, the pressure radiating from him seemed to freeze the surrounding seawater.
But he was old. Time and endless battles had left indelible marks on his body. Every breath he took sounded like a broken bellows, a heavy, rattling rumble.
"Pops, it's time for your medicine."
Marco, sporting his signature pineapple hairstyle, approached with a tray. His usually half-lidded, sleepy eyes hid a trace of deep worry.
Whitebeard slowly opened his eyes. Though his golden pupils remained sharp, they couldn't conceal the exhaustion behind them.
"Gurararara..."
"Marco, can't we cut down on this stuff? It tastes like swill."
Whitebeard laughed, causing the tubes attached to him to tremble violently. The leopard-print-clad nurse beside him paled.
"Pops! Please don't move around!"
"Your condition hasn't stabilized yet!"
Marco sighed helplessly. "Pops, don't be stubborn. It's for your own good."
Whitebeard curled his lip and grunted like an obstinate child.
Just then, a frantic rhythm of footsteps shattered the peace of the deck.
"Commander Marco! Pops!"
"It's big news!"
A Division Commander stumbled toward them, waving a newspaper wildly. In his haste, he nearly tripped over a coil of rope.
"What's the panic?" Whitebeard grunted. " Is there anything left in this ocean that can scare the Whitebeard Pirates?"
The messenger gasped for air, his face flushed red. He looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"It's... It's the Golden Lion!"
"It's that old monster, Shiki!"
At the mention of that name, the chatter on the deck died instantly. Even Whitebeard's eyelids twitched.
Golden Lion Shiki. A legend from the same era as him and Roger. The Admiral of the Flying Pirates. The man who once nearly ruled the world.
"Shiki?" Whitebeard opened his eyes fully, a note of nostalgia in his voice. "What kind of mess has that old bastard stirred up now? Didn't the papers say he was sealed inside some giant rock? Is he dead?"
The Commander shook his head violently, holding the newspaper high. His voice cracked with hysteria.
"No... He's not dead!"
"He's resurrected!"
"Pops! You have to see this!"
Marco frowned and took the newspaper. He glanced at it once.
His dead-fish eyes instantly bulged. The tray in his hand clattered to the deck.
Crash.
Medicine bottles shattered, spilling liquid everywhere. But Marco didn't notice. He just stared, transfixed, at the front-page photo. His hands began to tremble.
"This... How is this possible?!"
Blackbeard Teach, curious, leaned in. When he saw the content, he froze. The chunk of roasted meat in his mouth fell to the floor.
The latest issue of the World Economic News Paper featured a massive, full-page close-up.
The background was a clear azure sky. A man with flowing golden hair, draped in a black and yellow striped haori, hovered in mid-air. He had his arms crossed, looking down at the world with an arrogant, disdainful sneer.
But the most terrifying part wasn't his expression.
It was his body.
The mane of hair that should have been sparse and gray was now golden and lustrous, blazing like a lion's mane. The face, once etched with deep wrinkles, was now taut and full, as if he had returned to his prime at forty years old.
And what suffocated everyone the most... were his legs.
The legs he had personally severed to escape Impel Down.
They were whole.
The famous swords "Oto" and "Kogarashi," which had served as his prosthetics, were now gripped in his hands. In their place was a pair of strong, muscular legs of flesh and blood!
"You... You've got to be kidding me..."
Jozu, the diamond giant, dropped the cleaning rag he was holding.
═════ To Be Continued ═════
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