Legacy of the Six Paths Senjutsu

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"Ayr… damn it. Rocks… damn it! I, Garp, swear—I'll put both of you behind bars someday!" Garp's fists clenched so tightly that veins bulged along his forearms and across his brow, his fury erupting in a roar that echoed across the smoldering battlefield.

Just as that fury spilled into the wind, a voice cut through the haze—one Garp recognized in an instant, low but unshaken. "Garp… I feel the same way you do."

Eyes wide, Garp turned, stunned by the battered figure limping out from the curtain of smoke. "Sengoku?!" The shock snapped him from his rage as he surged forward without hesitation, arms wrapping around his comrade in a rare, unguarded embrace, his voice cracking with emotion. "You bastard… You're still alive?!"

"Of course I am," Sengoku answered with a weary smile, his calm demeanor intact despite the wreckage around him. "How could I die in a place like this?"

Still slumped against the ruins of a fallen structure, Zephyr exhaled heavily, exhaustion etched into every movement as he lifted his head. "Sengoku, your survival… it's a miracle. After what we've lost, it really is."

The war had carved its price into the core of Marine Headquarters, with Brownie and Kong battered beyond recognition, Deros perhaps gone for good, and Zephyr himself barely conscious. Their foundation had cracked beneath the pressure, the command structure on the verge of crumbling. Had Sengoku also fallen, the loss wouldn't just have been tactical—it would've shattered what little resolve remained.

"But Sengoku," Kong rasped, his gravel-thick voice barely cutting through the wind, "your opponent… was Edward. What became of that man?"

Everyone present understood what the timing implied. From the delay in their return alone, it was obvious that Sengoku and Whitebeard had collided head-on.

Lowering his gaze, Sengoku exhaled with regret swirling behind his eyes. "I had drained most of Edward's stamina and Haki. One more blow and it would've ended—but Ayr arrived at the worst possible moment."

The name struck like a blade, and Kong's jaw clenched hard. "Ayr?! Him again?!"

He didn't need Sengoku to elaborate further; the consequences were already seared into his mind. Had he managed to defeat Ayr earlier, he could have reinforced the Zhenwu and Black Bat Admirals. Their combined forces might've tipped the balance against the Roger Pirates, allowing Sengoku to finally bring Whitebeard down. It could have ended here.

But it hadn't. Because his own defeat had set off a chain reaction that none of them could contain.

Kong's fists trembled at the realization. "It all started with me…"

"If I'd just had thirty more seconds…" Sengoku murmured, his voice sinking with self-recrimination. "Edward would've fallen. But that strength… it wasn't mine to command."

The battlefield had shifted not by power alone but by timing, and Ayr's interference had undone everything.

"You being alive is more important," Garp interrupted, voice firm as he placed a heavy hand on Sengoku's shoulder. "We still need you."

For a moment, silence settled between them until Kong finally raised his head, conviction hardening behind his battered expression. "Stop blaming yourself. We lost today—but it's not over. If you survive, you get to fight again. So train. Get stronger. The next time we face Ayr… we won't lose."

His mind was already set. This defeat, no matter how bitter, would be his catalyst. Next time, he wouldn't fall short. Not again.

Sengoku's gaze lifted slowly, a new fire flickering beneath the weight of exhaustion. "You're right."

Behind them, Crane stepped out from behind a shattered mast, her uniform torn and smeared with ash. "We should leave. If the remnants of the Rocks group find us now, we won't have enough left to resist."

No one argued. Their strength was spent, their numbers depleted. They had no choice but to retreat.

Gathering on the ships that still floated in the scarred harbor, the surviving Marines withdrew from the Valley of the Gods—quietly, without victory, but not without resolve.

---

Aboard the battered remains of the former Rocks flagship, Ayr stood motionless on the upper deck, his eyes sweeping across the ruined treasure hold.

Three Devil Fruits. That was all that remained from the carnage.

But it would suffice. In the chaos of a collapsing empire, even a fraction of its spoils carried weight.

Descending into the hold, Ayr personally dragged out an auxiliary vessel hidden among the wreckage. The time had come to leave this cursed battlefield.

Before he could board, thunder cracked above as Charlotte Linlin descended on her Homie Zeus, the lightning-streaked cloud billowing under her heels. "Ayr, join me. Be my companion."

She asked despite knowing the futility. A man like Ayr—unpredictable, overwhelming—was too valuable not to tempt, even with slim hope.

"No."

One word, final and absolute. There was nothing more to say.

The Rocks Pirates were finished. Ayr was free. Why would he chain himself to another monster?

"You really don't give me any hope, do you?" Linlin's voice fell, laced with both admiration and frustration.

"Jihahaha! Linlin, you think someone like Ayr would follow an old hag like you?" Shiki's laughter thundered as he crossed his arms smugly, his golden mane rippling in the wind.

Linlin's smile vanished beneath a rising tide of bloodlust. "Do you want to die, Shiki?"

"You think you can kill me?" he fired back, still grinning with mad confidence.

The tension surged, but both of them knew better than to move first. With Whitebeard, John, Silver Axe, and Ochoku all present, any fight would devolve into slaughter.

They traded glares like drawn blades—but neither struck.

Turning away from Linlin, Shiki set his eyes on Ayr. "What about me, then? Join my crew."

"Not interested," Ayr replied, voice cold and devoid of hesitation.

He had once needed protection, a banner to shield him while he learned. But now, there were only a handful in the world who could genuinely challenge him.

He didn't need a crew.

Linlin scoffed, her lips curling in amusement. "Mamamama… Shiki, he turned you down too. What made you think he'd ever join your ragtag bunch?"

"Shut it, Linlin," Shiki growled, the spark of fury returning.

Their bickering flared once more.

Whitebeard stood off to the side, silent. He, too, had entertained the thought of inviting Ayr into his fold, but after hearing these rejections, he dismissed the idea. Someone like Ayr wouldn't serve anyone. Not now. Not ever.

John finally stepped forward onto the second ship, his sharp gaze narrowed, his voice dripping with venom. "Ayr… don't get cocky. You won't last out here. You'll die in these seas—just like Captain Rocks."

Ayr didn't flinch. His voice cut through the air like steel. "I wouldn't think like that if I were you, John. You'll be the first to die."

He wanted to kill John here and now, to end that venomous sneer with a single strike. But the truth was plain—Tengai Shinsei had drained him, his Haki scraped to the bone, his stamina flickering like a dying flame.

He understood the risk. One move, and John, Ochoku, and Silver Axe would converge. He would be cornered.

And he had no intention of gambling his life for a grudge. Not today.

But next time…

There would be no hesitation.

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