The "darkness perished" did not mean the darkness itself died — it was the light that was extinguished.
Sharn stared up at the sky above God Valley. The black tendrils were suddenly retracting at top speed. As most of the shadows condensed and drew back, nine colossal tentacles remained, each as broad as a mountain, tearing at the gorge. God Valley, already a wound in the world, was dragged and overturned by those appendages.
Above the shattered ravine, the tendrils heaped together and grew into a throne, an ink-black seat carved from night. The land around it seemed to hold its breath; the only thing that moved was that horrifying darkness. This was Rocks's Paradise — a playground where demon and god intertwined.
"The winner is me — and you are all rulers of the world!" Rocks jeered.
"Loser is me? Fine, then we burn together to ash!"
It was not only Rocks speaking; it sounded like the demon mocking through him.
In truth, Rocks had already wrestled the demon and subordinated it — not merely an awakened Devil Fruit user, but the one who had perfected the fruit beyond measure. Even Blackbeard, who would later take a throne thirty-eight years hence, could not match Rocks's mastery of the Dark–Dark Fruit. Blackbeard chose well and assembled stronger combinations, but in this age Rocks was indisputably the world's king. Future pirate kings, Marine heroes, the greatest men and beasts would look up from below.
Enemies kept appearing — betrayals, surprises, Roger himself fighting back — and even the wily Five Elders like Saint Saturn nearly fell at God Valley. Yet Rocks would not concede. He had not lost to any single opponent. If he must, he would hand his will to the demon and demolish this absurd world with it.
"The sea is ridiculous, and you are all fools. Justice? Pirates and freedom? Ridiculous." He spat. "One kneels to the Celestial Dragons like a lapdog, another skulks like a worthless mutt. Kill me — the real me is the world-king who will last eight hundred years! Tremble, you fools!"
Rocks's laughter tore across the gorge like a maddened beast. Tendrils withdrew from the throne and hammered into the cliffs as if forged of steel, suspending and layering into black steps. Upon that stair rose the final seat, the Dark Throne.
Rocks strode up the steps. Every eye was drawn; people felt their souls pulled taut, their strength siphoned. At this moment he did not release Haki, yet every instinct bent toward kneeling.
"Since I first left port I have adventured, slaughtered, conquered, plotted — by all means," he declared, addressing Sengoku. "You will see: this world waits for the next king. Fear me. When I'm gone, the ocean will never be calm again. Who else can suppress these monsters? Wars for the throne are beginning!"
He perched on the Dark Throne and looked down on all life. In the cramped pit of God Valley, hearts beat in resentment and ambition: Gold Lion's greed, Linlin's appetite, Kaido's conquest and ruin. To sit upon that seat, one must walk Rocks's path. Even Roger, who sought only freedom, or Whitebeard, who wished only to protect his own — without sufficient power they would be swept aside.
This was a war in which everyone would be dragged whether they wished it or not.
Roger seethed. He hated the future Rocks described, but he knew none of them could avoid it. Years later, standing on Loguetown's execution platform, Roger would still remember today. When he shouted of the Great Treasure, kneeling at the scaffold, he effectively sat on another invisible throne. Whether Rocks existed or not would matter little; the fact he had existed was what terrified people.
From this moment on every monstrous soul that had sailed with Rocks carried that dark throne inside. Pirates would pursue higher rank, power, and dominance without mercy — until the age of the Four Emperors came to rule. The battles for thrones would not stop with the present generation; the subsequent Seven Warlords would be part of the same contest.
"Ambition, once awakened, never shuts," Sengoku said through gritted teeth, watching the field. "Rocks used his dying breath to stir the monsterly ambition in his crew — what a bastard!"
Sengoku loathed such manipulation; he saw it as a push toward ever worse crimes. Yet later there would be Roger's final declaration and Whitebeard's last shove; the relay would not end. It was a perfect chain.
"Lock them up in Impel Down!" Garp punched a tendril to splinters. "Even if we beat them now, they'll scatter the moment we look away. In five years, junior crew like Sharn or Kaido could become regional disasters. These people cluster now because of Rocks; when they disperse, the sea will truly storm."
"The Dark Throne is engraved into every soul that bears the mark of kingship," Sengoku added, shuddering. He could not imagine how chaotic the seas would become. Rocks, the instigator, was the root of it all.
The Moments after Rocks's fall proved the crew's reaction: they did not mourn as one might expect; instead they seemed elated. For them, the best ending had arrived — the king who suppressed countless Devil Fruit powers was dead. Celebration rose over a guild of predators around their fallen lord.
Sharn felt the hunger in those eyes as an unquenchable blaze. John wiped blood from his mouth and squinted at Sharn. "Newbie, you look ravenous."
"Twenty years, a storm of changes — who will be the next king?" John asked. Xiaen clenched his fists; the answer came without doubt.
"I will."
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