Shadows of the Grand Line

[ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEE <3, rook sure wasn't]

Pain flared through every inch of my body as I came back to consciousness. The world was a haze of noise, shouting, gunfire, the clang of steel against steel. My vision swam, the bright sunlight above me cutting into my eyes like shards of glass. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or why my body felt like it had been ripped apart.

Then it all came rushing back, the Marine ship, the fight, the lieutenant, and my desperate attempt to summon the shadows to save myself.

I groaned, rolling onto my side, and immediately felt the sticky warmth of blood soaking through my shirt. My side throbbed with every breath, the saber wound from the Marine officer refusing to be ignored.

I blinked hard, forcing my vision to clear. Harlock stood at the center of the chaos, his twin axes swinging in wide arcs as he held off a group of Marines trying to retake control of the deck. The Pirate Shadow moved like a ghost, its rusted blade slicing through weapons and forcing the Marines back step by step.

But even with their strength, I could tell we were losing. The Marines weren't giving up, and their numbers were still overwhelming.

"Master!" Harlock's deep voice boomed over the noise. His glowing eyes locked onto me, and for a moment, his stoic expression faltered. "You need to move. Now."

I tried to push myself to my feet, but the pain in my side forced me back down. My hand searched blindly for the Orb of the Forgotten King, which I'd dropped in the chaos. My fingers finally closed around its cool, pulsing surface, and a faint whisper echoed in my mind.

"Not yet..." the voice of the Forgotten King murmured, faint and distant.

Not yet? What did that mean? I didn't have time to think about it.

The Marine lieutenant stood at the far end of the deck, his saber gleaming with faint energy as he cut through one of my weaker shadows. His movements were precise, brutal, and filled with the kind of discipline only years of training could instill. He wasn't just any officer, he was someone who'd earned his rank through blood and sweat.

His gaze snapped to me, and his expression hardened. "You're still alive?" he spat, his voice filled with disgust.

I gritted my teeth, gripping the Orb tightly as I staggered to my feet. "You're really going to chase down a guy in a rowboat?" I asked, my voice strained but defiant.

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "You're not just a guy in a rowboat. You're a threat. A criminal."

I laughed bitterly, the sound broken by a cough that sent fresh pain shooting through my ribs. "Criminal? I don't even know what I've done yet."

"You exist," he said coldly, leveling his saber at me. "That's enough."

He lunged, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. I raised my dagger to block, but his saber struck with enough force to knock me off balance. The blow sent me stumbling back, and I barely managed to stay on my feet.

Harlock roared, charging toward the lieutenant, but a volley of gunfire from the remaining Marines forced him to retreat.

I clenched my teeth, realizing the fight had turned against us. My shadows were fading, Harlock's movements were slower, the Pirate Shadow's strikes less precise. The power I'd poured into them during the fight was running dry, and I wasn't in any condition to keep summoning reinforcements.

The lieutenant seemed to sense this. He stepped forward, his saber raised high, and for a moment, I thought it was over.

But then the ship lurched.

One of the Pirate Shadow's strikes had cut through a rope securing a cannon, and the massive weapon slid across the deck, crashing into the side of the ship with a deafening impact. Wood splintered, and water began pouring in through the breach.

"Lieutenant!" one of the Marines shouted. "The ship's taking on water!"

The officer hesitated, his saber still pointed at me. His jaw clenched as he looked between me and the damage, weighing his options.

"You're lucky," he said finally, his voice dripping with disdain. "We'll meet again, shadow-wielder. And next time, you won't escape."

He barked orders to his men, and the remaining Marines began scrambling to contain the damage.

Harlock was at my side in an instant, his massive hand gripping my shoulder. "We need to leave, Master."

I nodded, clutching my side as he half-dragged, half-carried me back to the rowboat. The Pirate Shadow leaped down from the ship ahead of us, landing silently in the water as it waited for us to follow.

As we pushed off from the ship, I glanced back at the Marines. The lieutenant stood at the edge of the deck, his saber lowered, watching us with a cold, calculating gaze.

This wasn't a victory. It was survival.

The rowboat drifted aimlessly as I slumped against the side, my breath ragged and uneven. Harlock sat across from me, his axes resting beside him as he stared at the horizon. The Pirate Shadow stood silently at the bow, its blade sheathed in the tattered remnants of its belt.

I let my head fall back, staring up at the sky. The adrenaline had worn off, and now all I felt was pain, raw, searing pain that radiated from my side and spread through my limbs like fire.

"Master," Harlock said quietly, breaking the silence.

"What?" I muttered, too exhausted to sound annoyed.

"Your name," he said. "You haven't told me your name."

I blinked, surprised by the question. For a moment, I didn't answer. My name felt... strange now, like something from another life. But as I stared out at the endless expanse of water, I realized I couldn't keep running from it.

"Katsuki D. Rook," I said finally, the words tasting foreign on my tongue.

Harlock tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. "The 'D.' That's... significant."

"Yeah, I know," I said, managing a weak smile. "Not exactly subtle, is it?"

The Pirate Shadow glanced back at me, as if acknowledging the weight of my name.

I sat up slowly, wincing as the pain in my side flared again. "Where are we?" I asked, scanning the horizon.

Harlock pointed to the north, where a faint strip of land was visible in the distance. "The Marines' flag carried the emblem of the East Blue fleet. That's where we are, East Blue."

I froze.

East Blue. The starting place of so many legends. The home of Luffy, Zoro, and the rest of the crew before they came together. The weakest of the four seas, they called it, but to me, it felt anything but weak.

This was where it all began.

"East Blue," I repeated, leaning back against the boat. The faintest flicker of hope sparked in my chest. "At least now I know where I am."

Harlock nodded, his massive arms crossing over his chest. "What's the plan, Master?"

I thought about it for a long moment, staring out at the horizon.

"We find somewhere to rest," I said finally. "I need time to recover, to figure out what's next."

"And after that?"

I clenched my fist around the Orb, its faint pulse syncing with my heartbeat.

"After that," I said, "we sail. We keep moving. If the Marines think I'm a criminal, if the Forgotten King thinks I need to find my purpose, fine. I'll show them all. I'll make a name for myself in this world, whether they like it or not."

The rowboat glided through the water, the oars creaking faintly as Harlock's massive hands gripped them. I had given up rowing entirely, every breath felt like someone was driving a spike into my side, and I was losing too much blood to push my limits further. The fight with the Marines had left me battered, broken, and painfully aware of how fragile my existence was in this world.

Harlock was silent, his glowing eyes scanning the horizon as he worked the oars. The Pirate Shadow crouched near the bow, its rusted blade balanced across its lap, its form flickering faintly as if the strain of the battle had taken its toll. The Orb of the Forgotten King sat in my lap, its faint pulse barely noticeable now, almost like it was disappointed in me.

I tried to focus on the one piece of good news we'd managed to pull from the chaos.

"East Blue," I murmured, the words still strange in my mouth.

I could still feel the sting of the Marine lieutenant's saber against my ribs and the fire in his eyes when he called me a criminal. The words carried weight. I wasn't a shadow in the background anymore. In their eyes, I was a threat, someone who didn't belong in their clean and orderly system. And now, I was bleeding out in a rowboat, surrounded by shadows and with no real plan.

Harlock glanced at me, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "You're lucky to be alive."

I smirked weakly, leaning back against the side of the boat. "Lucky? I'd call it stubborn."

"You chose to fight them," he said. "You didn't have to. You could have turned around, sailed the other way. Why didn't you?"

The question caught me off guard. Why hadn't I turned around? The smart thing to do would've been to leave the Marines to their business, let the pirates die, and find a safer route. But when I thought about it, I realized it wasn't a choice at all.

"I don't know," I admitted after a long moment. "Maybe it's because I've been running since I got here. Running from the System, from this world, from the fact that none of this is a dream I can wake up from. I guess I was just... tired of running."

Harlock grunted, his expression unreadable. "The fight cost us. You nearly died, and so did we."

"Yeah," I said, closing my eyes briefly. "But it's the first thing I've done that felt... real. Not like something the System was forcing me into. I made the call. I chose to help."

"Even if it kills you?"

I opened my eyes and met his glowing gaze. "Even if it kills me. Because if I don't stand for something, then I'm just another pawn in someone else's game. And I'm not doing that anymore."

Hours passed before we finally saw land again. It was faint at first, a dark smudge on the horizon, but it grew clearer as the rowboat creaked closer. The sight of it filled me with a cautious sense of relief, land meant safety, at least for now.

The island wasn't large, but it was bustling with life. A small port town sprawled along the coast, its wooden docks crowded with fishing boats and a few larger ships. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and I could hear the faint sound of laughter and shouting carrying over the waves.

Harlock's oars slowed as we approached, his sharp eyes scanning the docks. "A Marine base," he said, nodding toward the far end of the harbor.

My stomach sank as I followed his gaze. Sure enough, a small Marine outpost stood at the edge of the town, its flag fluttering in the wind. It wasn't a fortress, but it didn't have to be. If they recognized me, or worse, if the lieutenant from earlier had sent word ahead, this island could turn into a deathtrap.

"Can we avoid it?" I asked.

Harlock shook his head. "Not if you want supplies. We don't have the luxury of hiding."

He was right. I didn't want to admit it, but we were barely hanging on. The food we'd taken from Harlock's old crew wouldn't last more than a day, and I was in desperate need of medical attention. The wound in my side wasn't getting better, and the blood loss was starting to make me lightheaded.

"We'll go ashore," I said finally, forcing myself to sit up straighter. "But we'll stay quiet. In and out. No trouble."

Harlock gave me a doubtful look but didn't argue. The Pirate Shadow remained silent as always, its hollow eyes fixed on the approaching docks.

The rowboat bumped gently against the dock, and Harlock stepped out first, his massive form making the planks creak beneath his weight. He offered me a hand, and I took it, wincing as pain shot through my side. My legs wobbled as I stepped onto solid ground, but I forced myself to stay upright.

The dockworkers barely glanced at us, too busy unloading crates and tending to their nets to care about a ragged-looking man and his shadowy companions. That was fine by me.

As we moved into the town, the reality of my situation hit me like a brick. This wasn't the Grand Line or the chaotic maelstrom of the New World. This was East Blue, quieter, calmer, and full of ordinary people just trying to live their lives.

And I didn't belong here.

The people in the streets avoided looking at me for too long, their eyes flicking toward Harlock and the Pirate Shadow with a mix of curiosity and fear. I couldn't blame them. A guy covered in blood, flanked by what looked like literal monsters? Yeah, that wasn't exactly a friendly look.

I pulled my hood up, hoping it would help me blend in. "We need a doctor," I said to Harlock. "And food. See if you can find someone who's selling supplies. I'll deal with the injury."

Harlock nodded. "And if we're recognized?"

I tightened my grip on the Orb in my pocket. "Then we fight. But let's hope it doesn't come to that."

The first place I found was a small clinic tucked between a tavern and a bakery. The sign above the door was faded, but it was clear enough: Doctor Arata.

I hesitated before stepping inside, glancing back at Harlock. "Stay outside," I said. "You'll draw too much attention in here."

Harlock nodded, taking up a position near the entrance. The Pirate Shadow lingered beside him, its blank gaze scanning the street.

Inside, the clinic was cramped but clean. The air smelled faintly of herbs and alcohol, and a young woman with a tired expression sat behind the counter. She looked up as I entered, her eyes widening slightly when she saw the state I was in.

"Sit down," she said quickly, gesturing toward a stool. "You look like you're about to collapse."

I didn't argue. As I lowered myself onto the stool, she grabbed a medical kit from behind the counter and began inspecting the wound in my side.

"This is bad," she said, her brow furrowing. "You're lucky it didn't go deeper, but it's going to need stitches."

"Just do what you can," I said, gritting my teeth as she began cleaning the wound.

She worked quickly, her hands steady despite the tension in her expression. "What happened to you?" she asked after a moment.

"Ran into some trouble on the water," I said vaguely.

She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," I admitted. "Just passing through."

She didn't press further, but I could see the curiosity in her expression.

As she stitched the wound, I caught snippets of conversation from outside the clinic. Two men were talking near the door, their voices low but audible.

"...heard about the Marine ship? One of their lieutenants got into a fight out at sea."

"Yeah, something about a pirate with strange powers. They're saying the guy was using shadows, like some kind of Devil Fruit user."

"Shadows, huh? What was his name?"

The first man hesitated, then said: "Katsuki D. Rook."

My breath caught.

The woman stitching my wound paused, glancing at me sharply. I forced myself to stay calm, but my heart was racing.

They knew my name.

My blood ran cold. My name, my real name, spoken aloud in this world. It shouldn't have been possible.

The stitching needle in the doctor's hand paused, hovering above my half-closed wound as she studied my face. "Katsuki D. Rook, huh?" she said quietly, her voice cautious. "That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

I forced a dry laugh, doing my best to sound dismissive despite the pit forming in my stomach. "Who? Never heard of him."

Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a skeptical hum, but she didn't press further. She returned to her work, though her hands moved slower now, less sure.

Outside, the two men were still talking, their voices rising slightly with excitement.

"Yeah, apparently the guy caused chaos on a Marine ship," one of them said. "The report's all over the place, sailors talking about some kind of shadowy powers and a big monster with axes cutting through their ranks."

"Harlock," I muttered under my breath. The name hadn't reached these people yet, but it would.

"Sounds like trouble," the other man replied, his tone wary. "I heard the lieutenant barely made it out alive. And the pirate escaped? That's gonna piss off the brass."

"I don't know," the first man said, lowering his voice slightly. "You know what's got everyone talking, though? That name. A 'D.' The Marines are saying he might be one of those people."

The second man went silent for a moment. "A 'D,' huh? You think he's connected to...?"

"Who knows? But the World Government's not gonna let someone like that wander around the East Blue. Mark my words, there'll be a bounty on him by the end of the week."

My pulse quickened. I could feel the walls closing in around me, the air in the clinic growing heavy. How did they know my name? I hadn't told anyone, not even those Marines. The only ones who'd heard it were Harlock and my shadows.

Unless...

I gripped the Orb of the Forgotten King, its faint pulse synchronizing with my rapid heartbeat. I didn't know how, but something told me the answer was tied to the relic in my hands. The Forgotten King's words echoed in my mind:

"The shadows are not tools. They are reflections of your choices... The weight you carry."

The Orb wasn't just a source of power. It was a connection, to something far deeper, far more dangerous. The King had called the shadows a "burden," and I was starting to understand what he meant. They weren't just mine to command, they were watching me, tied to me in ways I didn't yet comprehend.

Had they betrayed me? Had the shadows whispered my name to the Marines, to the world? Or had the System itself exposed me, forcing me into the spotlight for reasons I couldn't yet grasp?

The thought made me shiver.

"Hold still," the doctor said firmly, pulling me back to the present. She finished the last stitch and tied it off, then sat back with a sigh. "There. You'll live, but you need to take it easy. That wound's going to reopen if you push yourself too hard."

"Thanks," I said, though my mind was elsewhere.

She folded her arms, her sharp gaze lingering on me. "You sure you're not the guy they're talking about out there?"

I forced a weak smile. "Just a coincidence."

She didn't look convinced, but she stood up and began cleaning her tools. "Coincidence or not, if the Marines are looking for someone, it's best you don't stick around too long. This town doesn't need their trouble."

I nodded, sliding off the stool with a wince. "I get it. Thanks for the help."

"Just pay me," she said, her tone brisk.

I dug into the small pouch of coins I'd scavenged from the pirates back on the island and dropped a few beli onto the counter. She pocketed them without a word, and I made my way to the door.

Harlock was waiting outside, leaning casually against the clinic wall with his axes strapped to his back. The Pirate Shadow stood beside him, its hollow eyes scanning the street.

"They're talking about you," Harlock said the moment I stepped outside.

"Yeah, I noticed," I muttered, pulling my hood up to hide my face.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "If they know your name, Master, the Marines will, too. It's only a matter of time before word spreads. We need to move."

I clenched my fists, my mind racing. He was right, staying here was suicide. But the thought of leaving without understanding how this had happened, how my name had spread so quickly, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"How do they even know?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "I didn't tell the Marines anything. I didn't even speak to most of them."

Harlock shrugged, his glowing eyes narrowing. "The shadows have a way of spreading stories. Maybe the lieutenant guessed, or maybe the whispers in the dark have already begun."

"Whispers in the dark," I muttered, my grip tightening on the Orb. "Great. Just what I needed."

The town's port was bustling with activity, and I scanned the docks for a way out. My rowboat wasn't going to cut it, not with the Marines potentially tracking me down. I needed a real ship, something fast enough to put some distance between me and anyone who might recognize me.

"There," Harlock said, nodding toward a small schooner docked at the far end of the harbor. It wasn't a Marine vessel, but it wasn't a fishing boat, either. Its sleek design and faintly worn sails suggested it belonged to a merchant or a smuggler.

"It's perfect," I said, starting toward it.

"And stealing it won't draw attention at all," Harlock muttered dryly, following behind me.

"Do you have a better idea?"

He didn't answer, which I took as a no.

The Pirate Shadow moved ahead of us, its movements unnervingly silent as it scouted the docks. It slipped between crates and barrels, avoiding the prying eyes of dockworkers and sailors.

As we neared the schooner, I caught a glimpse of two figures loading crates onto its deck. They were young, barely older than me, and their uniforms didn't match any official crew I'd seen before. Smugglers, then. Perfect.

I was halfway to the ship when I heard the shout.

"There he is!"

I froze, my heart skipping a beat.

A group of Marines had entered the harbor, their rifles raised as they marched toward the docks. At their head was a familiar figure, the lieutenant from the battle at sea, his saber gleaming in the sunlight. His uniform was stained and slightly torn, but his eyes burned with cold fury.

"Katsuki D. Rook," he called, his voice carrying over the noise of the harbor. "Surrender now, and I might let you live."

"Not likely," I muttered, gripping my dagger tightly.

Harlock stepped in front of me, his massive form blocking the Marines' view. "Get to the ship, Master," he growled. "We'll hold them off."

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to fight, to stand my ground. But the shadows flickering around me felt weaker than they had before, drained by the earlier battle. If I stayed, I'd only get us all killed.

"Fine," I said, my voice tight. "But don't take too long."

Harlock nodded, his axes gleaming as he turned to face the advancing Marines. The Pirate Shadow followed suit, its rusted blade raised.

As they charged into the fray, I bolted toward the schooner, my vision narrowing to the gangplank ahead.

The shouts of the Marines echoed through the harbor as I sprinted toward the schooner, my feet pounding against the wooden planks of the dock. Harlock's thunderous roar rang out behind me, followed by the clash of steel and the sharp crack of gunfire.

I forced myself to focus, pushing through the pain in my side and the weight of exhaustion pulling at me. The schooner was my only way out, and if I didn't move fast, I wouldn't live long enough to sail it.

The two young smugglers I'd spotted earlier froze as I ran up the gangplank, their eyes wide with alarm.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" one of them shouted, reaching for a knife on his belt.

"Sorry, no time to explain," I said, shoving past him. "You're going to have to find another ride."

The other smuggler, a tall, wiry man with a scruffy beard, stepped forward, a pistol in his hand. "Like hell we are! This is our ship!"

I raised my hands, trying to keep my voice calm despite the chaos. "Look, I don't have time to argue. The Marines are right there, and they're not picky about who they shoot. Either you let me take this ship, or we all die together. Your call."

The bearded smuggler hesitated, his eyes darting toward the Marines storming the dock. Harlock's massive figure was holding them back for now, his axes cleaving through the air with brutal precision, but it wouldn't last.

"Fine," the bearded smuggler growled, lowering the pistol. "But if you sink my ship, I'm throwing you overboard myself."

"Deal," I said, rushing toward the wheel.

The schooner wasn't much, but it was seaworthy, and that was all I needed. Its sails were already raised, fluttering in the breeze, and the anchor had been loosened. The smugglers had been preparing to leave when I showed up, which meant I didn't have to waste time getting it ready.

The scruffy smuggler followed me up to the wheel, glaring at me as I grabbed it. "You know how to sail this thing?"

"Nope," I admitted, my hands gripping the wheel tightly. "But I'm about to learn."

He groaned, muttering curses under his breath as he moved to the rigging. "At least try not to crash us into the dock."

Behind us, the battle was raging. Harlock was holding his ground, his axes moving in blinding arcs as he cut through the Marines' defenses. The Pirate Shadow was a blur of motion, darting between attackers and slicing through their weapons with precise, lethal strikes.

But they couldn't hold forever. The Marines were pressing forward, and the lieutenant was pushing through the chaos, his saber gleaming as he barked orders.

"Katsuki D. Rook!" he shouted again, his voice filled with fury. "You can't run forever! You'll never escape the Marines!"

I clenched my teeth, forcing the schooner away from the dock. The sails caught the wind, and the ship began to move, its bow cutting through the water.

"Harlock!" I shouted, gripping the wheel tightly. "We're leaving!"

The shadow captain turned toward me, his glowing eyes narrowing. With a final, savage swing of his axes, he sent a group of Marines sprawling before retreating toward the schooner. The Pirate Shadow followed, its movements fluid and ghostlike as it leapt onto the deck beside me.

Harlock reached the gangplank just as the Marines regrouped, their rifles raised. A volley of gunfire ripped through the air, and I felt my stomach twist as one of the bullets struck him in the shoulder.

But he didn't stop. With a roar, he jumped onto the schooner, landing heavily on the deck beside me.

"They're regrouping," he growled, his axes still in hand. "We need to move faster."

"I'm working on it," I said, spinning the wheel.

The schooner picked up speed, the gap between us and the dock widening. The Marines fired another volley, the bullets splintering the railing but missing their mark. The lieutenant stood at the edge of the dock, his saber raised as he glared after us.

"This isn't over, Rook!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the water. "We'll find you! No matter where you run, the Marines will always find you!"

I didn't bother responding. The schooner surged forward, leaving the dock, and the Marines, behind.

The adrenaline wore off quickly once we were clear of the harbor. My body sagged against the wheel, exhaustion crashing over me like a wave. My side throbbed where the lieutenant's saber had cut me, and my vision blurred slightly from the blood loss.

Harlock stood silently beside me, his massive frame towering over the smaller smuggler, who was staring at us with a mix of fear and anger.

"This is the part where you explain yourself," the smuggler said, his voice trembling slightly. "Who the hell are you? And what the hell just happened back there?"

I hesitated, my grip on the wheel tightening. "My name's Katsuki D. Rook," I said finally. "And I'm... let's just say I'm someone the Marines don't like very much."

The smuggler stared at me for a moment, then shook his head with a bitter laugh. "Great. Just my luck. I let some infamous pirate steal my ship."

"Relax," I said, forcing a weak smile. "I'm not stealing it. I'm just borrowing it."

"Borrowing," he repeated flatly. "Right."

As the schooner sailed into the open sea, I felt the faint pulse of the Orb in my pocket. Its energy was still subdued, but there was something new, a subtle, insistent whisper that seemed to come from deep within the shadows.

"Another awaits..." the voice murmured, faint but clear.

I stiffened, glancing down at the Orb. "Another what?" I whispered.

The whisper didn't answer, but the shadows around me seemed to shift, growing darker and more restless. Harlock noticed the change, his glowing eyes narrowing.

"You felt it too," he said quietly.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice barely audible. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Harlock admitted, his tone unusually serious. "But the shadows are drawn to something, or someone. Whatever it is, it's powerful."

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the wheel. The Orb had given me Harlock, a shadow captain whose strength had already saved my life more than once. If there was another shadow of his caliber waiting out there, I couldn't afford to ignore it.

"Do you think it's dangerous?" I asked.

Harlock's expression didn't change. "Everything in this world is dangerous, Master. But power is rarely without risk."

I nodded slowly, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The sea stretched out before us, vast and endless, its surface glinting under the fading sunlight. Somewhere out there, the shadows were calling to me.

Whatever awaited me next, another battle, another shadow, another trial, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn't done fighting yet.

________________________________

The sound of waves crashing against the hull of the schooner had become a familiar rhythm. Weeks had passed since our chaotic escape from the Marine port, but the memory of that fight, and the consequences it had left in its wake, still weighed heavily on my mind.

We'd stayed on the move, hopping from small islands to isolated coves, always keeping one step ahead of the Marines. Supplies were scarce, and the crew, if you could even call it that, was small, consisting of Harlock, the Pirate Shadow, and the occasional smuggler or mercenary I'd hired for temporary work.

The smugglers whose ship I'd "borrowed" didn't stay long. The captain, a wiry man named Lars, had jumped ship on the first island we'd stopped at, muttering curses about not wanting to be involved with someone the Marines were hunting. Fair enough. I wasn't exactly keen on the attention I'd attracted, either.

Still, we had a ship, a crew of shadows, and enough stolen rations to keep us alive. It wasn't much, but it was something.

It was on a quiet, windless evening when everything changed.

We'd docked at a small, lawless island tucked away in a remote corner of the East Blue. The place was little more than a shantytown built around a harbor, its population consisting of smugglers, bounty hunters, and pirates lying low after their latest heists. It wasn't a place for heroes, and it definitely wasn't a place for someone like me to feel comfortable.

But the black market tavern had information, if you could stomach the stale beer and the constant threat of a knife in your back.

Harlock and I sat at a corner table, his massive frame ensuring no one dared get too close. The Pirate Shadow stood at the door, its rusted blade visible enough to discourage any would-be troublemakers.

The barkeep, a grizzled old man with a permanent scowl, slapped a stack of papers onto the bar. "Fresh bounties just came in," he growled. "Looks like the Marines are busy lately."

That got the room's attention. Every pirate and scoundrel in the tavern turned to look at the stack of papers, their conversations fading into a low murmur.

I stayed quiet, sipping my drink as I kept an ear on the chatter.

"Damn, look at this one," a burly man at the bar said, holding up one of the posters. "The Marines are throwing big numbers around for this guy."

"Who is it?" another pirate asked.

The first man smirked, holding the poster higher so the room could see it. "Katsuki D. Rook."

My heart skipped a beat.

I stared at the poster from across the room, my pulse pounding in my ears. It was surreal, seeing my name printed so boldly, surrounded by the Marines' insignias. The sketch wasn't half bad, rough around the edges, but unmistakably me. My hood was up, and the shadows around me had been exaggerated for dramatic effect, but the scar on my cheek from the Marine lieutenant's saber was a dead giveaway.

The bounty beneath my name made my stomach turn:

________________________________

Wanted: Katsuki D. Rook

"The Shadow Reaper"

Bounty: 42,000,000 Beli

________________________________

The room erupted into chaos.

"Forty-two million?!" someone shouted, slamming their drink onto the bar. "For some rookie in the East Blue?"

"He's no rookie," another voice argued. "They're saying he took on a Marine lieutenant and a full crew by himself. Used some kind of weird shadow powers. He's gotta be a Devil Fruit user."

"No way a rookie's worth that much," a woman scoffed, but her eyes lingered on the poster. "The 'Shadow Reaper,' huh? That's a hell of a title."

I sank lower in my seat, my hood pulled tight over my face. Harlock leaned back in his chair, his glowing eyes fixed on the bar with quiet intensity.

"Forty-two million," he said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "You've made an impression, Master."

"Not the kind I wanted," I muttered, clutching the Orb in my pocket. The weight of the bounty felt heavier than I'd expected. I'd known the Marines would put a price on my head eventually, but I hadn't thought it would happen so quickly, or for so much.

"The Shadow Reaper," Harlock continued, his tone thoughtful. "It suits you."

I shot him a glare. "It's ridiculous."

"It's a name that carries fear," he said, his gaze meeting mine. "And fear is a weapon."

The chatter in the tavern grew louder as more people crowded around the stack of bounty posters. I could feel the weight of their curiosity, the way their eyes darted toward me every now and then, their minds working to connect the shadowy figure in the poster to the hooded man sitting in the corner.

"We need to leave," I said quietly, standing up.

Harlock nodded, rising to his full height. The Pirate Shadow stepped closer, its hollow eyes scanning the room for potential threats.

We made our way toward the door, the din of the tavern fading behind us. But just as we reached the threshold, a voice called out.

"Hey!"

I froze, my hand instinctively reaching for my dagger.

The burly man who'd been showing off my poster was staring at me, his eyes narrowed. "You look familiar," he said, his voice carrying across the room.

Harlock stepped in front of me, his massive form blocking the man's view. "We're just passing through," he said, his voice calm but firm.

The man didn't back down. "Passing through, huh? With a face like that? You wouldn't happen to be him, would you?"

The tavern went silent.

Every eye in the room was on us now, the air thick with tension. I tightened my grip on my dagger, my mind racing.

And then the whispers returned.

"Soon..." the voice murmured, faint but clear in the back of my mind. "Another will rise..."

Before the situation could escalate further, the door to the tavern burst open, and a figure stumbled inside.

He was young, barely older than me, his clothes tattered and stained with blood. His face was pale, his breathing ragged, but his eyes burned with a desperate determination.

"They're coming," he gasped, collapsing to the floor. "The Marines, they're here!"

The room erupted into chaos once again, pirates and smugglers scrambling for their weapons as the sound of boots echoed in the distance.

Harlock turned to me, his expression grim. "We need to move. Now."

I nodded, my heart pounding as we slipped out the door and into the night. The harbor was already alive with activity, ships preparing to set sail as their crews shouted orders and scrambled to load supplies.

But as we ran, the whispers grew louder.

"Another awaits..." the voice said again, clearer this time. "A shadow unlike any you've known."

I didn't know what it meant, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was waiting for me out there.

And as we disappeared into the shadows of the harbor, the weight of my bounty, and my title, settled over me like a storm cloud.

The harbor was chaos. Shouts echoed through the air as smugglers, bounty hunters, and pirates scrambled to flee before the Marines arrived. Ships that had once stood proudly docked were now hastily being untied, their crews cursing and yelling as they fought to get into open waters. Lanterns swung wildly in the night breeze, their dim light casting long shadows across the pier.

Harlock was at my side, his axes strapped across his back, his glowing eyes scanning for threats. The Pirate Shadow moved ahead, its rusted blade glinting faintly under the moonlight. Every step I took sent a jolt of pain through my side where the Marine lieutenant's saber had wounded me, but I forced myself to keep moving.

The whispers hadn't stopped.

"Another awaits..."

The voice was insistent now, like a faint hum that I couldn't drown out no matter how hard I tried. Every time the words repeated, the shadows around me seemed to pulse, faint ripples of energy vibrating through the air. I didn't know if it was the Orb, the System, or something worse, but whatever it was, it was getting louder.

"Harlock," I said, my voice low as we slipped through the narrow alleys leading toward the docks. "Do you feel that?"

He nodded, his expression tense. "The shadows are restless. Something is close. Something powerful."

That wasn't exactly comforting.

We rounded a corner, and the sight of our stolen schooner came into view. It was tied up at the farthest dock, partially hidden behind a stack of crates and barrels. I let out a shaky breath of relief, quickening my pace despite the pain.

But before we could reach it, the sound of Marine boots hitting the cobblestones echoed behind us.

"There they are!"

I turned, my heart sinking as I saw a squad of Marines rushing into the harbor. At their head was none other than the lieutenant from the last port, the same man who'd nearly killed me during our first encounter. His saber gleamed in the torchlight, and his eyes burned with determination.

"Katsuki D. Rook," he called, his voice cutting through the noise. "You're not getting away this time!"

I swore under my breath, my grip tightening on the Orb of the Forgotten King. "Of course it's him."

"Go," Harlock growled, stepping in front of me. He pulled his axes free, their edges glowing faintly with shadow energy. "I'll hold them off."

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "We stick together."

"Master," he said, turning to look at me, "if you don't get to the ship, none of us are leaving this island. Trust me to handle this."

I hesitated, my chest tightening. Harlock wasn't just any shadow, he was my strongest soldier, my first elite, the one I relied on the most. But he was right. If I stayed and fought, I'd only slow him down.

"Fine," I said reluctantly, backing away. "But don't get yourself destroyed."

He smirked faintly, the first hint of humor I'd seen from him in days. "I'll be fine, Master. Go."

Harlock turned back to face the approaching Marines, his massive frame looming over the narrow alley like a mountain. The lieutenant stepped forward, his saber gleaming as he pointed it at the shadow captain.

"You again," the Marine officer said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Still hiding behind your master, I see."

Harlock chuckled, his axes resting on his shoulders. "You're mistaken. I'm not hiding, I'm waiting. And now you've made it to the front of the line."

Without waiting for a reply, he charged.

The clash was immediate and brutal. Harlock's axes moved in deadly arcs, their shadowy energy cutting through the Marines' defenses with ease. The lieutenant countered with precise strikes of his saber, each blow landing with enough force to push Harlock back.

But Harlock wasn't alone. The Pirate Shadow emerged from the alley, its movements quick and fluid as it flanked the Marines. Its rusted blade slashed through their ranks, disrupting their formation and forcing them to spread out.

I didn't stay to watch the fight. As much as it pained me to leave, I knew Harlock was right, I had to get to the schooner.

I reached the dock just as another wave of pain surged through my side. I staggered, clutching the wound as I forced myself to keep moving. The schooner was only a few feet away now, its sails fluttering in the breeze.

"Almost there," I muttered, gritting my teeth.

But then the whispers grew louder.

"Another awaits... closer now..."

I froze, my hand tightening on the Orb as the shadows around me began to ripple. The air grew colder, the faint breeze shifting into an eerie stillness.

And then I felt it, a presence.

It wasn't like Harlock or the Pirate Shadow. This was something older, darker, and far more dangerous. The shadows coiled around me, pulling at my senses like a predator sizing up its prey.

"What the hell is this?" I muttered, glancing around.

The Orb pulsed violently, its energy surging through me in a wave of raw power. The shadows at my feet began to twist and writhe, forming a swirling mass of darkness that spread across the dock.

"Master!" Harlock's voice cut through the haze, and I turned to see him fighting his way toward me, his axes cleaving through the remaining Marines. The lieutenant was still standing, his saber glowing faintly as he pressed forward, but even he looked uneasy as the shadows thickened around us.

And then I saw it.

Emerging from the swirling mass of shadows was a figure. It was humanoid but massive, easily twice my size, its body wrapped in black armor that seemed to ripple like smoke. A greatsword rested on its back, its edge jagged and pulsing with faint red energy.

Its hollow eyes glowed faintly, flickering between blue and crimson as it stepped forward, its movements slow and deliberate.

The whispers returned, louder than ever.

"The Warlord rises."

The armored figure stopped in front of me, its glowing eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The Marines, the schooner, the dock, everything faded into the background as the figure knelt before me, lowering its head.

"Master," it said, its voice deep and resonant, like the echo of a thousand voices speaking as one.

My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't just another shadow. This was something else entirely.

The System pinged faintly in my mind, its notification flashing across my vision.

________________________________

New Shadow Soldier Summoned: Shadow Warlord (Lv. 7)

Status: Elite Unit.

Abilities:

Crimson Edge: Wields a cursed greatsword that deals massive area-of-effect damage.

Unyielding Aura: Increases the combat effectiveness of nearby shadow soldiers by 15%.

Executioner's Wrath: Channels raw shadow energy into devastating strikes.

Note: This shadow's strength comes with a cost. Prolonged use drains the user's stamina significantly.

________________________________

I stared at the Warlord, my mind racing. This was the shadow the whispers had been leading me to, the one that had been waiting for me in the depths of the shadows. But why now? Why here?

"Master," Harlock called, snapping me back to reality. "We need to go. Now!"

The Warlord rose to its full height, its crimson eyes narrowing as it turned to face the Marines. The lieutenant's expression shifted, a flicker of fear crossing his face as the massive shadow stepped forward.

"You have no idea what you've unleashed," the Marine officer growled, his grip tightening on his saber.

"Neither do I," I muttered under my breath, gripping the Orb tightly. "Harlock, Pirate Shadow, Warlord, fall back! We're leaving!"

The Warlord hesitated, its greatsword humming with power, but it obeyed, stepping back toward the schooner. Harlock and the Pirate Shadow followed, cutting down the last few Marines in their path as we retreated.

I stumbled onto the ship, collapsing against the wheel as Harlock and the others secured the rigging. The Warlord stood at the bow, its massive form silhouetted against the moonlight, its crimson eyes scanning the horizon.

As the schooner drifted away from the dock, I let out a shaky breath, my body trembling from exhaustion. The Marines were still shouting on the shore, but their voices grew fainter as the ship sailed into the night.

The sea was calm, the moonlight casting a faint glow over the water. Harlock stood beside me, his axes resting on his back as he stared out at the horizon.

"You summoned another elite," he said quietly, his tone unreadable.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse. "But I don't know if I'm ready for it."

Harlock glanced at me, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. "You'll need to be, Master. The Warlord is a force to be reckoned with. But power like that doesn't come without consequences."

I nodded, my gaze shifting to the massive figure standing at the bow. The Warlord's presence was overwhelming, a constant reminder of the shadows' growing influence over my life.

As the schooner sailed further into the East Blue, the weight of my bounty, my title, and my new shadow pressed heavily on my shoulders.

"The Shadow Reaper," I muttered to myself, my voice barely audible.

The name wasn't just a title anymore. It was a warning, a storm brewing on the horizon, waiting to be unleashed.

[7818 words]