Michael had to admit—the first time he laid eyes on the Golden Lion, he was a little dumbfounded.
By all logic, at this point in time, the Golden Lion should have already cut off both his legs, using his twin great blades, Sakura Ten and Kiku, as prosthetics to support himself.
And with that ship's rudder lodged deep in his skull, he should have long since fallen into delirium—nearly senile by now.
Yet the man standing before him now—limbs intact, eyes bright and sharp—looked nothing like a deranged old fool.
In fact, he looked almost identical to that same Golden Lion who had once single-handedly sought to annihilate Marineford.
However...
Michael only sighed softly.
Even if this Golden Lion were the same as back then... Michael himself was no longer the man he used to be.
With that thought, Michael stepped forward, blocking the members of the Flying Pirates from entering Egghead's core zone.
"To be honest," he said calmly,"sometimes I find you old relics truly strange."
"Why do you insist on stirring up some big spectacle on the seas?"
"Wouldn't it be better to just rule your little corner of the New World quietly, and then wait for me to come end you?"
"I have to admit, rebuilding your crew from scratch—" Michael's tone was faintly amused, "that's impressive. Not every aging pirate still has the ambition to rise again."
"But unfortunately for you... your so-called comeback happened in my era."
As he spoke, the wings on Michael's back trembled lightly. A trace of Holy Light dispersed into the air, breaking into specks of radiant white dust.
His entire being looked impossibly divine—so much so that it drew the eye without effort.
But the Golden Lion wasn't cowed by Michael's sacred presence. Instead, the madness in his grin only deepened.
"Michael, you've never fought me at my peak," the Golden Lion said, voice brimming with pride.
"Back then, all you managed to withstand was the dying breath of my power."
"Now, you may indeed be strong... but me? I'm the Golden Lion!"
His booming laughter rolled through the skies in every direction.
Michael, however, suddenly looked up, his expression sharpening as he sensed something.
His Observation Haki had just collided with something massive.
The cloud layers above began to surge and scatter—
And the next moment, a gigantic mass of stone pierced through the clouds, revealing its true form.
Michael's eyes narrowed as he finally saw it clearly.
This wasn't a stone.
It was an archipelago—a cluster of islands, complete with entire ecosystems.
Through his Haki, he could feel the life forces of animals roaming those islands.
Despite its colossal size, the floating archipelago was moving fast—far faster than it appeared.
In a matter of moments, it hovered directly above Egghead.
"Is that... a custom-made Sky Island?"
A beat later, Stella and Crocodile arrived, looking up just in time to see the enormous island.
"That's no Sky Island," Michael said with a dry chuckle, his jaw tightening.
"But damn... that thing's way worse than one."
The flicker of unease within him quickly faded, replaced by the familiar thrill of facing a powerful foe.
The strength of the Golden Lion at his peak had never been in doubt.
Whether it was Devil Fruit mastery, physical combat, Haki, or that intangible fighting instinct—he stood among the absolute elite in every field.
And although Oda had never explicitly stated that the Golden Lion possessed Conqueror's Haki... anyone with a brain could tell he did.
Even Chinjao had it—so how could the man who rivaled Roger and Whitebeard not?
At that level, having Conqueror's Haki Infusion—or not—made all the difference.
The Golden Lion at his peak was, without question, a near-perfect warrior.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have nearly defeated Roger during the Battle of Edd War.
His only flaw was his overwhelming arrogance—though that, too, was part of his character.
Few in the world had ever earned his respect as equals.
Roger.
Whitebeard.
And now... Michael.
"Surprised by my collection?" the Golden Lion laughed.
"You, of all people, should understand exactly what they're for—besides me, of course."
"Tch. Still can't help picking up strays, huh, old man?"
Michael's wings beat once, propelling him skyward toward the floating islands.
"Stella, Crocodile... I'm leaving the rest to you."
"Just hold out until Rosinante and the others arrive."
Crocodile sneered.
"What do you take us for?" she said coldly as sand began to swirl around her.
"I can send them all straight to hell on my own."
"Hahahaha! Michael! You really are the only one who can make me feel alive again after all these years!"
Ignoring Crocodile's words, the Golden Lion roared with laughter and activated his Float-Float Fruit. His body lifted from the ground as he soared after Michael.
That bold, wild laughter— it was the same laugh he had given when he confronted Roger at Edd War. The same laughter he'd let out during his last drink with Whitebeard after breaking free from Impel Down.
And now, as he looked at Michael— this young man somehow made him feel that same fiery excitement once more, as though he were standing shoulder to shoulder again with Roger and Whitebeard!
Higher and higher they rose, until they landed upon the massive floating island.
"To be honest, Michael," the Golden Lion said, "you're probably the one I admire most, after Roger and Whitebeard."
"I've been watching your every move all these years..."
"Former Chief Inspector of the Marines? Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army?"
"No, no, Michael—you've been blinded. You don't understand. On this sea, freedom is the most precious thing of all!"
"Come, Michael! Join my Flying Pirates! Together, the two of us could dominate this ocean—who could ever stand in our way?"
Excitement—and a faint nostalgia—flashed in his eyes.
He remembered how, years ago, he had made the very same offer to Gol D. Roger: to join forces and conquer the seas side by side.
He couldn't help but wonder— if Roger had said yes back then... what kind of world would the seas look like now?
But before he could sink too deeply into that wistful thought, Michael's cold snort cut him short.
"Your so-called 'freedom'?"
"Spare me."
The Golden Lion wasn't surprised by his answer.
Just like before, he had known Roger would reject him.
And even if he could ask the same question ten million times, he would still ask it.
He was an old man now, and the thing old men loved most was remembering the past.
This was how he remembered him— in his own way.
The captain of the Roger Pirates.
The captain of the Flying Pirates.
One had faced death with dignity before the entire world. The other had survived, clinging to life ever since his escape from Impel Down.
Boring...
How utterly boring!
"Too boring!!!"
The Golden Lion's hair and beard flared as he suddenly roared in fury.
Michael blinked, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance.
"Tch. I knew that ship's rudder still messed with your brain somehow..."
"What are you yelling for?"
"If your mind's unstable, let me stabilize it for you."
"Just need to take your head off—don't be afraid..."
"Pain is normal."
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