A massive crater yawned open at the center of Beehive Island's harbor.
It was a pit over a hundred meters in diameter.
The rocks along the rim were scorched a dull red, still radiating heat.
Wisps of steam hissed and curled out from the cracks in the earth.
The scent of scorched earth mingled with the salty tang of the sea, a pungent mix that made one's eyes sting.
The bonfires were still burning.
Yet, the light they cast felt chillingly cold.
It illuminated the shocked and wary faces of thousands of pirates.
Dead silence.
Then came the screech of metal scraping—a sound so piercing it made the eardrums ache.
*Clang!*
Thousands of pirates, who had been drinking moments ago, drew their blades in unison.
Their drunkenness vanished, replaced instantly by the drive for combat.
Their bodies were as tense as stone, muscles bulging as they closed in, step by step, surrounding the deep pit.
Under the firelight, the tips of their swords merged into a single, shimmering sheet of cold steel.
Every weapon was pointed toward the center of the crater.
The scent of alcohol was gone; only bloodlust remained.
But those sitting by the massive table fashioned from ship wreckage were the exception.
Several figures hadn't moved an inch.
Rocks D. Xebec.
Gol D. Roger.
Edward Newgate.
These were names that could make the very oceans tremble.
Not one of them had stood up.
They still held their wine glasses in their hands.
Everyone's gaze was pinned on the drifting smoke.
Rocks had his fingers interlaced, leaning his chin on his hands, watching the haze with a look of genuine amusement.
Roger's grin widened, his tongue licking his lips like a predator catching the scent of blood.
Whitebeard narrowed his eyes, the muscles in his face tightening.
The aura emanating from the pit was different from theirs.
Completely different.
They remained still because the presence within the smoke was familiar to them, and the so-called blades of those lackeys were utterly useless against such power.
The dust settled.
As the air cleared, a figure slowly came into focus.
He stood tall.
He didn't look like someone who had just plummeted from the sky, but rather like a guest dropping by for a visit.
The simple black trench coat he wore remained pristine, not a single speck of dust on it despite the impact that had torn through steel.
A white mask still concealed his face.
Lucian.
He had arrived.
Lucian looked up and swept his gaze across the scene.
Behind the mask, his gaze held an eternal, unchanging tranquility.
Thousands of weapons were pointed at him, but he didn't even spare them a glance.
The blades, the roars, the bloodlust.
In his eyes, they were nothing more than air.
His gaze calmly swept over every face around the giant table.
Shiki the Golden Lion's sneer, young Kaido's awe, Charlotte Linlin's greed.
These people were familiar.
His gaze paused for half a second on Whitebeard's angular face, then slid over Roger's wildly laughing expression.
Finally, it stopped on one man.
The King of Beehive Island, the Captain of the Rocks Pirates, Rocks D. Xebec.
The entire harbor grew so quiet that one could hear their own heartbeat.
Thousands of pirates held their breath, waiting for a single word from their captain.
One word, and this blind fool who dared disrupt their banquet would be minced into meat paste.
In the midst of this explosive silence, a soft chuckle rang out.
The laugh was light.
Yet, like a feather, it precisely brushed against everyone's taut nerves.
There was no hostility in that laugh, no bloodlust—only teasing.
It was completely out of place given the surroundings.
"Rocks, has the party started already?"
Lucian's voice drifted from behind the mask, reaching every ear.
"Do you mind if I join in?"
These words struck everyone's mind like a bolt of lightning.
The pirates were completely stunned.
They had imagined many possibilities.
The intruder might curse, might attack, or might demand terms.
No one expected a request like this.
The entire field fell silent.
The thousands of raised swords became excruciatingly awkward.
They couldn't lower them.
But keeping them raised felt equally wrong.
Every eye shifted from the masked man in the pit to their captain, Rocks D. Xebec.
Now, it was his turn to decide.
Would he fight, or would he do something else?
The smile on Rocks' face vanished.
Only for half a second.
But in that half-second, the emotions in his eyes shifted rapidly.
Killing intent.
Wariness.
Greed.
Finally, he suppressed them all.
This man had saved them all at God Valley.
He was a benefactor.
But this man's power could also slaughter them all at any moment.
He was a threat.
This was a harder question to answer than facing Imu.
That moment of solemnity lasted only half a second before it was shattered by a burst of wild laughter.
"Zei-hahahaha!"
Rocks' laughter shook the entire island, overflowing with dominance.
He stood up abruptly, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to cover half the harbor.
He didn't reach for a weapon.
He strode forward, the ground trembling beneath his feet, and walked directly to the edge of the pit.
Under the gaze of thousands of crew members, he showed no sign of caution.
Standing at the rim, he looked down at the still-composed white mask and naturally extended his right hand.
That hand could crush steel, yet at this moment, it carried not a hint of Haki.
He slung an arm around Lucian's shoulder.
The gesture was as casual as if he were picking up a drunken brother returning late to the docks.
"It is our honor to have a man like you attend our banquet!"
Rocks' voice boomed like thunder, every word radiating boldness.
He turned and roared at a stunned officer.
"Someone get over here!"
"Bring my brother the biggest barrel of booze we've got!"
That single sentence blew the roof off the place.
Not an enemy, but a guest.
No, a "brother."
Rocks' actions and his roar defined Lucian's status.
The shadow of "death" looming over the pirates vanished instantly.
The tension evaporated in a heartbeat.
Everyone exhaled in relief, gasping for air as the scent of alcohol returned to the breeze.
Then came a cheer more frenzied than any before.
"Ohhhhh!"
"Long live the Captain!"
"Party! Keep the party going!"
The cheers, whistles, and clinking of glasses turned the scene back into an ocean of joy.
The previous tension felt like a dream.
Following the momentum of Rocks' pull, Lucian was hoisted out of the pit.
He didn't show a shred of unnecessary emotion.
He simply stood there, calm and collected, in the midst of these legendary figures.
It was as if he were born to stand right there.
In the distance, by the giant table, Roger and Whitebeard exchanged a look.
Roger's eyes were full of interest. He muttered, "That guy Rocks... he really is a powerhouse of a leader."
Whitebeard's gaze was deeper.
He looked at the white mask who was acting as brothers with Rocks.
He looked at the man who had overturned God Valley single-handedly, and then dissolved an army with a single joke.
Who is this man?
Just who is he?
The curiosity and intrigue in their eyes were thick and palpable.