Chapter 261

Uncharted Island, New World

Katakuri stood before the comatose figure of Big Mom, his towering form shadowed by the overwhelming presence of the once-feared Emperor of the Seas.

Nearly a year had passed since the incident, and yet she remained unconscious, her mighty form a shell of its former terror. The room was thick with tension, as the remnants of the Big Mom Pirates, hiding in the shadows of their former glory, grappled with the dire situation.

"Well?" Katakuri's voice was heavy as he turned toward Judge, who was frowning deeply, his brow furrowed in thought. Before him lay one of the former overlords of the New World, still as if trapped in a nightmare. Big Mom's body had healed from the devastating injuries, but her mind? It refused to awaken.

Judge, once the head of Germa 66, now a member of the Big Mom Pirates after the destruction of his kingdom by Doflamingo, shook his head grimly. "Her body is fully recovered, but something in her mind refuses to return. It's as if she's trapped in some deep recess of her consciousness."

He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "I suggest you go forward with the procedure. The longer we wait, the worse it becomes for your crew."

Katakuri's jaw tightened. He knew that Judge was right. The world outside was moving fast, and their enemies had already taken advantage of Big Mom's absence. The once-mighty Big Mom Pirates were now scattered, reduced to a fraction of their former strength.

Smoothie, as strong as she was, had barely managed to keep the remnants of their forces together. Even the Homies, once the core of Big Mom's army, were mostly gone, their numbers decimated in the chaos that followed.

"If we don't make a comeback soon, it won't just be us who are lost—it'll be everything your mother built," Judge continued, his voice sharper now. "And if she wakes up to find her empire in ruins, do you really think she'll spare anyone? Including you?"

The words stung, but they rang with undeniable truth. Katakuri clenched his fists, torn between his duty to protect his family and the desperate need to act. The procedure Judge was referring to involved transferring some of Big Mom's legendary physical traits to him—a risky experiment that could very well cost him his life.

Big Mom's body was practically indestructible. Her durability, sheer strength, and unmatched resilience were the stuff of legend. Few could stand against her in battle, and even fewer could survive her wrath. But to inherit even a fraction of that power came with a dangerous cost.

"You can't do this, Katakuri!" Perospero's voice was sharp with concern, cutting through the tension. "It's too dangerous. We don't know what could happen if something goes wrong."

Katakuri didn't respond immediately; his mind weighed down by the memories of all they had lost. Once, he had believed that as long as they lived under the protection of Big Mom, they were untouchable, that their empire was unshakable.

But reality had dealt them a cruel blow. Kaido, and other ambitious pirates, had moved quickly to fill the void left by Big Mom's fall. They had lost their territory, their power, and almost everything they held dear.

"We have no choice," Katakuri finally said, his voice low but resolute. "If we don't act now, everything will crumble. I need to become stronger—not just for myself, but for our family."

"So you want to take the risk alone again?" Smoothie stepped forward, her guilt written across her face. "No, I need to do this too. I failed Mama... I failed all of us. If you're taking the risk, then I'll do the same."

Katakuri shook his head, ready to reject her offer, but Cracker, usually the one to avoid danger, interrupted before he could speak.

"She's right, Katakuri," Cracker said, stepping forward with uncharacteristic determination.

"You've always taken the risks, always put yourself in harm's way. But this time, we're not letting you carry it alone. If this is what it takes to get back on top, then we should be allowed to take the gamble too."

Cracker, who once avoided pain and discomfort at all costs, had changed. The losses they had suffered had pushed him out of his comfort zone, and now, like the others, he was ready to risk everything. His usual smug arrogance had been replaced with a steely resolve.

Katakuri looked at him, about to argue, but before he could, Perospero placed a hand on his shoulder, his older brother's touch both gentle and firm.

"Don't," Perospero said quietly. "We've seen what happens when we rely too much on Mama. We've seen what happens when we rely too much on you. If we're going to rise again, we need to be stronger—all of us. Not just you."

The truth in Perospero's words hit hard. Katakuri, in his desire to protect his siblings, had unknowingly stunted their growth, shielding them from the harsh realities of the New World. But now, as they faced their greatest crisis, they needed to stand together, or they would fall apart.

Katakuri exhaled slowly, looking at the faces of his siblings—Smoothie, Cracker, Perospero. Each one of them had suffered in their own way, and each one was willing to lay down their lives for the family. The world had taught them that they were not invincible, and now they were ready to face that truth head-on.

"Fine," he said at last, his voice steady. "We do this together. But know this—if anyone falls during the procedure, I will never forgive myself."

"We'll be fine, brother," Smoothie said with a small smile, her confidence masking the fear she no doubt felt. "After all, we're Big Mom's children. We're tougher than we look."

Katakuri nodded, though a part of him still clenched with worry. The procedure Judge proposed was dangerous, nearly fatal even. There were no guarantees, only risks.

But for the sake of their family, for the sake of everything they had lost, it was a risk they had no choice but to take.

Judge watched the scene unfold with a smirk, his calculating eyes gleaming with ambition. This gamble, if successful, could return the Big Mom Pirates to their former glory—or destroy them completely. Either way, it was a bet worth making.

Katakuri turned back toward Judge, his jaw set with grim determination. "Let's begin. But make sure to only select the ones with a sturdy enough physique—those who have a higher chance of surviving the procedure," he said, his voice low but firm.

Despite agreeing to let his siblings join him, he wasn't about to risk their lives unnecessarily. The process was too dangerous, and though he valued their willingness to step up, he couldn't let emotion cloud his judgment. His protective instinct remained, but now tempered by cold logic.

Judge nodded, his face unreadable, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his eagerness. "Don't worry, I'll ensure only the fittest undergo the procedure. We can't afford to lose valuable assets," he said smoothly, as though the lives of Katakuri's siblings were merely a part of his larger experiment. Judge's mind was always calculating, always weighing the cost of human life against his ambitions.

Katakuri glanced at his siblings, his gaze lingering on Smoothie and Cracker. They both stood tall, unflinching under his scrutiny, though he could sense their nervousness beneath their composed exteriors. It wasn't fear of the procedure that concerned them—it was the fear of failure, of not being strong enough to reclaim their place in the New World.

"You understand the risks?" Katakuri asked, his voice softer now, though the weight of his concern was clear.

Cracker, the usually brash and pain-averse brother, gave a sharp nod. "I know it's dangerous. But we don't have time to play it safe anymore. Look at us." He gestured around, his voice thick with frustration.

"We're shadows of what we used to be. If this is what it takes to make us strong again, then so be it."

Smoothie stepped forward, her usual calm demeanor giving way to a rare show of intensity. "We can't keep hiding in the shadows, Katakuri. Every day we wait, our enemies grow bolder. We've already lost too much. I won't let us lose everything."

Katakuri studied them both, his expression unreadable for a long moment. He knew they were right. They had been hiding for too long, licking their wounds while the rest of the world moved on.

Big Mom's absence had created a vacuum, and it was only a matter of time before someone came to finish what Kaido and others had started. But still, the thought of putting his siblings through such a dangerous procedure twisted in his gut.

"Very well," Katakuri said finally, his voice resigned but resolute. "But understand this—if at any point I think the risk is too great, I'm pulling you out. No arguments."

Smoothie smiled slightly, her eyes softening. "You're always trying to protect us, Katakuri. But we need to stand on our own, just like you did. This time, let us take the risk with you."

Cracker grunted in agreement. "Besides, it's not like we're new to danger. We've faced worse odds before."

Perospero, who had been watching the exchange quietly, stepped closer to Katakuri. "We'll make it through this, brother. We have to. For our future."

Katakuri gave a slow nod, his gaze lingering on each of them. For years, he had shouldered the burden of being the strongest, the one who protected them all from the worst of the world's cruelties.

But now, the harsh reality was that his strength alone wasn't enough. They needed to evolve, to become more than just Big Mom's children. They needed to become a force that could stand on its own—even without their mother.

Judge interrupted the moment, his voice clinical as he addressed them. "The procedure will begin at dawn. I'll need time to prepare, and you all should rest. This is not something you can undergo lightly." He glanced at Katakuri, a rare flicker of what might have been respect passing across his features.

"If this succeeds, you will inherit some of Big Mom's resilience, her near-indestructible body. But if it fails…" He let the sentence hang ominously in the air.

"We'll be ready," Katakuri said, his voice unshaken.

As the siblings began to disperse, preparing themselves mentally and physically for what was to come, Katakuri remained where he stood, his gaze drifting back to Big Mom. She lay there, silent and unmoving, a once-great force now trapped in a prison of her own mind.

A part of him wondered what she would think if she woke up to find her children gambling with their lives in this way. Would she be proud of their resolve, or furious at their defiance?

He shook the thought away. It didn't matter. This was no longer about pleasing their mother. This was about survival.

As he turned to leave, Judge's voice called out to him again, this time more quietly. "Katakuri... if this works, you won't just be her strongest child anymore. You might become something else entirely."

Katakuri paused, glancing back at Judge, his face unreadable. "That's the plan."

Without another word, he left the room, his mind already focused on the battle ahead. The dawn would bring the procedure, and with it, the possibility of a new beginning—or the end of everything.

********

Dressrosa, New World

The usually jubilant, boisterous atmosphere of the Rip Off Bar at Coral Port was strangely muted today. Laughter and rowdy conversations, normally the lifeblood of the establishment, were reduced to hushed murmurs. The patrons were restless, as if sensing the tension in the air, though few knew the true reason behind the ominous mood.

Upstairs, on the topmost floor, where only those close to the former Kuja Empress were allowed, the source of that tension sat.

Rayleigh, the Dark King, was seated at a table with bloodshot eyes, his entire being radiating an unconscious, suffocating bloodlust. The once lively, warm space had grown thick with an oppressive atmosphere that made even the most hardened drinkers uneasy.

Opposite Rayleigh sat Señor Pink, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by a grim expression. Despite the bloodlust not being aimed directly at him, Señor couldn't shake the sense of danger that filled the room. Every instinct screamed at him to leave, but he stayed, aware of the importance of the information he had just delivered.

Even Shakky, standing nearby with a cigarette lazily burning between her fingers, wore a deep frown. She hadn't seen Rayleigh like this in years—not since the days when they were still actively sailing under the Roger Pirates' banner. It took a lot to provoke him, but today…today was different.

Rayleigh finally broke the silence, his voice colder than Señor had ever heard it. "Do you know who was responsible?" The words carried a weight that seemed to thicken the air even more, making the already tense atmosphere unbearable.

Señor hesitated, feeling the full force of Rayleigh's presence. He had been prepared for the old man to take the news badly, but this was beyond what he'd expected. Still, he forced himself to answer, knowing that withholding anything now could be a fatal mistake.

"Not that we know of," Señor said, his voice steady but tense. "But whoever it was, they were thorough. No survivors, no witnesses. The entire island was razed to the ground."

Rayleigh's hand tightened around his glass until the faint sound of cracking glass filled the room. He didn't even seem to notice. His mind was elsewhere, racing through possibilities, trying to piece together the puzzle of who would dare target one of his old crew—and more importantly, why.

"Why now?" Rayleigh muttered, almost to himself. His eyes, once sharp and full of life, were clouded with a dangerous mix of anger and grief. "Whoever did this didn't just want them dead. It was as if they were looking for something, something that they knew that only Roger Pirates was aware of."

The crushed glass in his hand finally gave way, shattering into pieces and sending shards scattering across the table. Rayleigh didn't flinch, his bloodlust only growing more palpable. His gaze shifted to the floor, as if searching for answers that weren't there.

Shakky stepped closer, her frown deepening as she took a slow drag of her cigarette. "Rayleigh, you're not thinking straight. Maybe this was just a coincidence, maybe he was just caught in the crossfire."

Her voice was calm, though there was an unmistakable edge of concern. She knew the kind of rage that simmered beneath his surface, and it was dangerous for a man like him to lose control.

Señor Pink, feeling the weight of his own curiosity and unease, hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. "It's not just the fact that they killed a former Roger Pirate, Rayleigh San. Whoever did this… they must have known what they were getting into. They've got to realize the kind of enemies they've made by doing something like this. Which means..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Rayleigh's eyes flicked up to meet Señor's, the intensity of his gaze enough to send a chill down anyone's spine. "Which means they don't care. Or worse, they want the fight, and they knew where exactly to fins us."

Señor nodded grimly. "As much as I would like to believe it otherwise, this simply can not be ruled out as a coincidence. Someone's making a move, and they're bold enough to challenge even the shadow of Roger's legacy."

Rayleigh clenched his fists, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. He had long since retired from the pirate life, but hearing about the death of a former crew member—one of his family—awoke something dangerous in him. He couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't an isolated event. Something bigger was at play.

"Do we have any leads at all?" Rayleigh asked, his voice low but filled with an unspoken promise of vengeance.

"Only rumors," Señor admitted. "But nothing concrete."

Rayleigh closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to rein in his growing fury. Whoever had done this—whoever thought they could get away with it—was about to learn a harsh lesson. He wouldn't rest until he found them.

"Roger's legacy…" Rayleigh whispered, the weight of the words settling like a stone in his chest. Senor's earlier remark echoed in his mind, stirring a fire that had lain dormant for too long. He could no longer sit idle, bound by promises and memories.

He had made a vow to his old friend—one he couldn't afford to break. With a steely resolve, he turned to Shakky, who already sensed the shift in him.

Even without him speaking, Shakky could tell what Rayleigh intended. Years of knowing him had taught her how to read his moods, and she exhaled a long plume of smoke, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Can you help me get a ship? I need to make a trip to the East Blue," Rayleigh asked, though it was less of a request and more of a declaration. His voice, though calm, carried an undercurrent of urgency.

Senor, understanding the gravity of the situation, gave a sharp nod without hesitation and exited the room to make the necessary arrangements. He knew this was a man who wouldn't be denied.

As the door swung shut behind him, the two were left alone in the private bar. The silence lingered between them, broken only by the faint clink of glass as Shakky poured herself a drink.

She sat down across from Rayleigh, her gaze unwavering as she took a slow sip, her eyes studying the man before her—his bloodshot eyes, the heavy tension in his shoulders, the controlled but dangerous energy that seemed to radiate from him.

"This isn't the time to lose your cool, Ray," she said, her voice low and measured. "If we're going to handle this, we need to be smart about it."

Rayleigh met her gaze, his own still burning with barely-contained fury. "I know, Shakky. But if they think they can come after one of us and walk away unscathed, they're sorely mistaken."

His voice held a cold, lethal edge. It had been years since he'd last tasted the thrill of battle, but it wasn't forgotten. The world may have thought the Dark King had faded into the shadows, but Rayleigh knew it was only a matter of time before those shadows came to life once more.

Shakky leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she exhaled another puff of smoke. Her expression softened, but only slightly. "Do you have any idea who it might be?" she asked carefully, aware of how delicate the situation was. The wrong question could ignite Rayleigh's anger further.

Rayleigh sighed deeply, his hand absentmindedly tracing the rim of the glass in front of him. "I wish I knew. We've made too many enemies over the years. And the truth is, our crew holds the key to secrets—secrets that this world would tear itself apart for. With the world in chaos, everyone's racing to find the ancient weapons, and to them, me and my crewmates are as valuable as any treasure. No… even more valuable."

He reached for the bottle of liquor and poured himself another glass, downing it in one go, as if the alcohol could drown the turmoil swirling inside him. But it did nothing to dull the sense of loss—or the cold fury.

Shakky watched him for a moment, her mind working through the implications. She didn't need to ask what he planned to do in East Blue. She already knew.

"So, you're going to meet her," she said, her voice softer now, but laced with understanding. She knew why Rayleigh needed to go. His journey to East Blue wasn't just about vengeance or following up on old ghosts. He wanted to protect what was left of Roger's legacy. That meant one thing: he was going to meet Ace, Roger's son.

There was a long pause before she spoke again, a note of caution in her tone. "Just… be careful, Rayleigh. The World Government will be watching for any sign of movement. They'll be tracking anyone connected to Roger. If they catch even a whisper of your presence, it could expose Rouge and Ace. You can't afford to risk that."

Rayleigh gave a slow nod, understanding the gravity of her words. "I know," he said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "But I made a promise. I swore I would protect him, and I'll be damned if I let anything happen to Roger's son. Not while I'm still alive."

The fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed, but it was now tempered with a resolve that ran deeper than rage. He had lost too much already—his captain, his crew, and now another old friend. He couldn't sit back and watch while the world tore itself apart, not when Roger's legacy was at stake.

Shakky sighed, her usual cool demeanor giving way to a rare moment of vulnerability. "Just… promise me you won't do anything reckless. You're no good to Ace if you get yourself caught or worse."

Rayleigh gave her a small, reassuring smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, Shakky. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

As Shakky took another drag from her cigarette, she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry. Rayleigh had always been a man of his word, but this mission was different. The stakes were higher than they had ever been, and the world was far more dangerous now than it had been in their heyday.

Rayleigh stood, his towering frame casting a shadow over the dimly lit bar. His movements were calm, controlled, but Shakky knew him well enough to see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

The world may have thought the Dark King had retired, but soon enough, they would be reminded of exactly who Rayleigh was.

"Don't take too long," Shakky called after him as he made his way toward the door. "And Ray… if you find out who's behind this…"

Rayleigh paused at the door, his back to her. "They'll regret ever crossing Roger's crew."

With that, he left the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Shakky sat in the silence that followed, staring at the empty glass in front of her, a sense of foreboding settling over her.

The world had changed, and so had they. But some things… some things never truly changed. And the wrath of the Dark King was one of them.

*****

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