"Oh? Not bad, kid. No wonder you had the guts to come knocking." Scopper Gaban praised Michael before shifting his gaze to Garp, who hadn't made a move yet.
"Long time no see, Garp. Did the Marines land on Baterilla Island with such fanfare just to capture Rouge?"
Garp didn't explain.
Instead, he grinned at Gaban. "What if I said yes? What are you gonna do about it? You alone can't stop me, Gaban."
Gaban didn't reply, but he knew it was the truth.
He had fought side by side with Garp in the God Valley War.
That sheer strength and terrifying Haki were unforgettable.
"What if you add me to the equation?" A lazy voice drifted out from the manor.
Garp wasn't the least bit surprised this man was here.
'Dark King' Rayleigh.
"I knew it. Before the Roger Pirates vanished, you'd come to protect Rouge."
Garp nodded and without any hesitation, strode straight into the manor.
Rayleigh didn't attack.
Instead, he walked alongside Garp—though his eyes remained wary.
Michael lips twitched.
What kind of cryptic nonsense were these old-timers spouting? Couldn't Garp just say outright that he was here carrying Roger last wish?
And besides…
Michael tightened his grip on the Supreme Grade Blade "Ace" hanging at his waist.
He still had a final letter from roger that he hadn't delivered yet.
So, slightly folding his wings, he shamelessly tried to squeeze past Scopper Gaban.
Whoosh!
A massive axe barred his path.
"What do you think you're doing?" Gaban growled.
"Seriously? I came with the old man. What do you think I'm here for? If I said I deliver milk, would you believe me?" Michael rolled his eyes, shoved the axe aside and marched in.
But before he could take two steps, the sound of the axe slicing through the air came from behind him again.
Michael patience was wearing thin.
"Damn it, you bastard! Cut it out!"
Without hesitation, he drew Ace from his waist.
In an instant, Haki coiled around the blade. But Michael had an eye for aesthetics.
A solid mass of pure black was downright ugly, so the aura on the blade formed layered patterns along the edge and the temper line.
At the same time, pure white holy flames wreathed the steel. The extreme contrast created a visual spectacle.
But beyond the visuals, its power was nothing to scoff at.
This strike, like Gaban axe, held no fancy techniques—just raw force clashing against force.
After a brief stalemate, Michael was sent flying several meters back.
Gaban also staggered a few steps.
'Freaking monster'
Michael cursed inwardly.
Even though his post-reincarnation body—whether in strength, speed, stamina, or Haki training—was extraordinary and improved at a rapid pace, time was still too short.
But Gaban shock far surpassed Michael.
After a long silence, Gaban didn't press the attack. Instead, he asked.
"Kid, what's your name?"
"Michael. A fresh and vibrant eighteen-year-old."
"Eighteen, huh… So Roger entrusted 'Ace' to you…" Gaban sounded almost wistful.
And the "Ace" he mentioned felt like it referred both to the sword and to the child.
"Seems like Roger planned this all along, having Garp look after his kid, huh?"
"Hahaha, entrusting the child to the Marine hero is far better than leaving him to us old pirates who are about to retire from the seas, don't you think?"
"You certainly have some self-awareness." Michael calmly quipped before turning and walking toward the white house within the estate.
This time, Gaban didn't stop him.
Pushing open the door, Michael saw Rayleigh and Garp standing outside the bedroom.
"Oh? Done fighting?" Garp feigned surprise, blinking. "I thought you were in for a good thrashing."
"Old man Garp, can't you wish me well for once?" Michael lips twitched, but he couldn't be bothered to argue with the old jester
. Instead, he walked up to the door and knocked lightly.
Rayleigh frowned slightly, about to say something, when Michael spoke first.
"Portgas D. Rouge, I am Lieutenant Commander Michael of the Marine Headquarters. I have a letter from Roger that I must deliver to you personally."
A brief silence lingered in the bedroom before it was broken.
"Rayleigh-san, please let him in."
Rayleigh sighed and gently pushed the door open.
Michael didn't say anything more, instead nodding solemnly at Rayleigh.
Garp watched with curiosity.
Michael already handsome features, combined with his solemn expression and the wings behind him, made him look like an angel descended to earth.
Entering the spacious bedroom, Michael immediately spotted the woman leaning against the headboard.
Despite her heavily swollen belly, her frame remained frail.
The news of Roger death must have been the cruelest poison to her.
In her eyes, Michael saw no will to live.
If not for the child in her womb, she would likely have already perished.
"Michael-san, you said you have a letter for me?"
"Yes, though it's not one written on paper." Michael nodded, then drew "Ace."
Rayleigh tensed, ready to act, but stopped when he saw Michael holding out the sword to Rouge with both hands.
"The letter is here. Touch 'Ace' and you will receive Roger final words."
Rouge stared into Michael gem-like blue eyes before slowly reaching out toward "Ace"... The moment she touched it, she drifted into sleep.
Michael extended his hand and gentle holy light began flowing from 'Ace' into Rouge body, attempting to restore her health.
When Portgas D. Rouge opened her eyes again, she found herself standing on the cliffs of Baterilla Island.
This place... was where she had first met and fallen in love with Roger.
"Rouge, it's been a while."
"You should be dead, Roger." Rouge felt an unprecedented calm as she turned and saw the man fate had bound her to.
"Our meeting now means Michael kept his promise and delivered the letter to you." Roger then gently pulled Rouge into his embrace.
Soft, weightless... utterly unreal.
Just a dream, after all.
"The child will be born soon."
Yet even so, Rouge nestled deeper into this intangible embrace. As if doing so could draw nonexistent warmth from the void.
"Who knows what kind of man he'll grow up to be?"
"That's something for Garp to worry about." Roger laughed heartily with a carefree "haha," yet an undercurrent of regret lingered in his tone.
"...I've never feared death, but I do regret not being able to watch my son grow up. Between the two of us, I'm probably the most irresponsible parents, aren't i?"