Yukiryu Island V

As the tension in the air finally began to settle, the unconscious members of the group stirred, groaning as they regained consciousness. Roger, Rayleigh, and Scopper exchanged amused glances while Draco looked around and sat down on a nearby rock, looking around still mesmerized by the cave's design and looks. Truly a dream come true to see this with his own eyes compared to anime or manga. 

The group, led by the white-cloaked man—gradually gathered themselves, dragging their bruised comrades toward the center of the cavern.

"Set up camp," the leader ordered, his voice low but authoritative. Without hesitation, the group complied. Chairs were unfolded, bags opened, and in the center of their impromptu camp, a heavy stone cube was placed—its flat surface serving as a makeshift table. From one of the bags, they pulled out jugs of beer, their worn labels faded from years of use.

The leader sat down with a heavy sigh, gesturing for the Roger Pirates to join them. Roger, of course, wasted no time. "Bwahaha! I like this setup!" he laughed, grabbing a seat. Scopper and Rayleigh followed, keeping a watchful eye on their strange hosts. Draco, naturally, helped himself to a drink without waiting for permission.

The white-cloaked man removed his hood, revealing a gaunt but regal face, framed by long, white hair. His eyes—pale and sightless—glimmered with an eerie sharpness as if he could still see more than most men ever could.

"I suppose introductions are in order," the man said, his voice calm now. "I am Homer—Saint Homer. Once a member of the World Nobles, though to them, I am long dead."

Roger paused mid-swig, raising an eyebrow. "A World Noble? Well, I'll be damned." His grin widened. "The first one I've met who isn't a sniveling brat!"

Homer gave a thin smile. "You'll find I have little in common with them. I've lived here on Yukiryu Island for decades, training and protecting this Poneglyph."

Rayleigh leaned forward, studying Homer carefully. "Training, huh? So those four are your students? Including the giant above?" He gestured toward the fighters sitting quietly, tending to their wounds.

Homer nodded. "Yes. Popo, from Elbaf, who ate the Water-Water no Mi. Yui, from Amazon Lily. And the twins, Kiki and Keke. Lastly, Zexer, a user of the Mist-Mist no Mi."

Each member gave a subtle nod at the mention of their names, though Draco gave only a half-interested glance in their direction. In which, they also gave a half-interested look towards Draco before putting their eyes down, somewhat sweating.

Homer continued, his tone turning cold. "I was furious when I saw the Poneglyph broken. I assumed Draco had done something unnatural to it… though I didn't think it was even possible."

Draco took another swig from his mug, unbothered by the accusation. "Just one punch," he muttered nonchalantly. "Didn't think it'd break, either, even then I thought no one knew about it... again... not my fault"

Homer's expression softened into something close to amazement before turning serious. "I never thought the day would come when someone could damage this Poneglyph. But that's not the strangest part of this day…"

Rayleigh narrowed his eyes. "Why would a World Noble spend his life out here? What's your real goal?"

Homer exhaled deeply. "I hate the World Nobles. I always have. From the moment I saw how vile they truly are, I knew I could never be one of them. I tried to change their ways—tried to show them the rot beneath their power. But my words fell on deaf ears. They branded me a traitor and cast me into the sea half-dead!"

He clenched his fist, his knuckles whitening. "I should've died that day, but fate had other plans. I washed ashore on this island and vowed to for revenge. But here, I found the Poneglyph… and a purpose."

Draco, still sipping his drink, tilted his head slightly. "Ever hear of someone named Imu?"

The question hung in the air, and Homer froze, his pale eyes narrowing. "Imu…?" he repeated, the name unfamiliar. "Who is that?"

Draco gave a slow, deliberate silence. "Doesn't matter if you believe me, but Imu is the one who really controls the World Government. Even the Five Elders answer to him."

The air grew thick with silence, heavy with the weight of Draco's revelation. Homer sat still for a moment, processing the information. Then, without warning, he shot to his feet, his chair clattering to the ground. His blind eyes blazed with fury, and a wave of raw emotion pulsed from him—an overwhelming mixture of disbelief, rage, and betrayal.

"You lie," Homer whispered, though the anger in his voice betrayed the doubt creeping into his heart. "It can't be true."

Rayleigh stood and stepped in front of Homer, hands raised in a calming gesture. "Easy now. We don't know for sure if it's true. No need to lose your head over it."

Draco, still relaxed, took another drink and muttered, "Believe it or don't. Makes no difference to me. Just interested whether you knew or not."

Just as the tension threatened to break once more, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the tunnel. All heads turned toward the entrance as a disheveled figure stumbled into the chamber, gasping for breath.

It was Shanks, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Shanks?" Roger called, standing up. "What's going on?"

Shanks coughed, choking slightly on his saliva. He pointed frantically toward the entrance. "The Marines!" he gasped. "They're here!"

The room fell silent again, but this time it was charged with alarm. Roger's grin slowly faded as he glanced at his crew.

"Marines, huh?" Roger muttered, his expression shifting to something more serious. "How many?"

"Five battalions," Shanks replied, his voice still shaky. "They've got five ships anchored just off the shore."

Meanwhile, on the shore of Yukiryu Island, five massive Marine ships loomed over the horizon. On the deck of the lead ship, a silhouette stood at the bow, leisurely munching on a cracker.

"Bwahahahaha! So this is where you've been hiding, Roger!" the man bellowed, crumbs flying from his mouth.

Beside him stood another figure with an enormous afro, his expression stern and serious. "The last island we tracked them at, they've left that island in ruins," the man said, his deep voice filled with quiet intensity. "It was only a matter of time before we caught up to them finally."

The man with the cracker finally finished his snack, dusting off his hands. With a grin that vanished as quickly as it appeared, he cracked his knuckles.

"Today's the day," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We're bringing Roger in."

The storm was coming, and on Yukiryu Island, the Roger Pirates prepared to meet it head-on.