Simultaneous Time Travel: What Villain? I'm the Protagonist!

When Marco landed back on the deck of the Moby Dick, he sensed something was wrong.

It's too quiet.

At this time of day, the deck is usually filled with people drinking, arm wrestling, and yelling profanities. Now, there's no one there. The sails are down, the anchor is hoisted, and the ship is stationary, gently rocking with the waves.

He walked toward the hatch.

As I walked to the door, I bumped into Vista.

Bista leaned against the doorframe, head down, sword sheathed in his hand.

Marco stopped.

"What's wrong?"

Vista looked up at him, and there was something wrong with his gaze.

Marco's heart skipped a beat.

"Where's Ace?"

Bista did not answer.

Marco walked past him and went inside.

Walking down the corridor and pushing open the hatch, Old Man's room was packed with people. Sachi's brothers stood in the corner, their eyes red-rimmed. Joz sat on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched. The others formed a circle, silent.

The white-bearded man leaned against the headboard, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

Marco walked over.

"Dad."

The white-bearded man looked up at him.

Those eyes were still the same eyes, but a hint of sorrow had crept into their once fearless gaze.

"Teach," the white-bearded man said, "kill Satch."

Marco was stunned.

"What?"

"The Dark-Dark Fruit," the white-bearded man handed him the paper, "Teach killed Satch for it, stole it, and ran away."

Marco took the paper and looked down at it.

It was a letter left by Teach. In just a few lines, he apologized to Satch, said he had waited decades for this fruit, and said he would return.

Marco crumpled the paper into a ball.

"Where's Ace? He should have been back by now."

Whitebeard didn't answer.

Joz, standing nearby, said, "They went after them; we couldn't stop them."

Marco remained silent for three seconds.

He threw the wad of paper on the ground and turned to walk away.

"Marco," the white-bearded man called out to him.

Marco stopped but didn't turn around.

"How's it going over there?" the white-bearded man said.

Marco stood with his back to everyone, his shoulders heaving slightly.

Then he turned around and walked back to the bedside.

"That guy named Sheng Ren," he said, "I saw him."

The white-bearded man looked at him.

He said he could cure his father's illness.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Joz looked up.

"real?"

Marco nodded.

"There's a condition," he said. "He wants a space-type Devil Fruit."

The white-bearded man didn't speak.

Joz frowned: "Space-based? That thing..."

“I know,” Marco interrupted him, “it’s hard to find.”

The white-bearded man remained silent for a long time.

The sea outside the window was a hazy gray, with waves crashing against the ship's side in layers.

"About Ace," Whitebeard finally spoke, "send someone to follow him."

Marco nodded.

"And also," the white-bearded man looked at him, "go and investigate that fruit."

Marco was taken aback.

"you……"

The white-bearded man unfolded the crumpled paper and looked at it again.

"Sachi is dead," he said. "I have to give him an explanation."

Marco didn't say anything more.

He turned and walked out.

As I reached the door, I heard the white-bearded man's voice behind me:

"How's that kid's strength?"

Marco stopped.

He recalled the overwhelming aura on the beach that had pinned him down, making it impossible for him to move.

"Very strong," he said, "much stronger than the intelligence reports."

Whitebeard didn't ask any more questions.

Marco pushed open the door and went out.

The City of Seven Waters.

it's getting dark.

The setting sun painted half the sky orange-red, and the street vendors were busy packing up. The fishmonger pushed his cart away, the cloth seller folded and packed up his fabrics, and even the woodcarving seller carried his box away. Only a few drunkards remained, slumped at the alley entrance, clutching bottles of liquor and cursing at the wall.

The sky suddenly brightened for a moment.

Nobody noticed.

It lit up again, even more dazzling than before.

One of the vendors packing up his stall looked up.

"What is that?"

There was a point of light moving on the horizon. Golden, orange, red—a blazing fire was flying this way.

Getting closer.

faster and faster.

When those fiery wings opened, they almost covered half the sky.

Everyone on the street stopped.

The drunkard's bottle fell to the ground and shattered, but no one looked down to look.

The ball of fire swept overhead, and the wind from its flapping wings overturned two stalls, kicking up a cloud of dust. Some people covered their eyes, some crouched down, and some opened their mouths, unable to utter a sound.

The fire descended.

It landed on the tallest clock tower.

When the wings were folded, the entire clock tower glowed. Gold, orange, and red light flowed down layer by layer, reaching the stone walls, which became hot, and then flowing onto the bell, which hummed.

Then the fire went out.

A person was standing on the clock tower.

Gray cloth short jacket, black trousers, barefoot.

He glanced down.

People on the street are still watching.

He jumped down.

Twenty meters high, and when it landed on the ground, its knees didn't even bend.

People on the street took a step back.

He walked forward.

They backed down again.

He walked up to a fruit stand and stopped.

The stall owner was an old man whose legs were shaking. He was gripping a paring knife with the tip pointing at him.

"Buy fruit."

The old man didn't move.

Sheng Ren glanced down at the stall. Apples, pears, and oranges were piled up neatly.

He grabbed a few and put them in a paper bag.

"How much?"

The old man's lips moved, but he didn't make a sound.

Sheng Ren took out a few Pele from his pocket and put them on the stall.

The old man didn't dare take it.

He held the paper bag, turned to leave, took two steps, then stopped and looked back.

"Take it."

The old man still didn't move.

Sheng Ren waited a second, walked back, picked up the few Pele bills, pried open the old man's hand that was gripping the knife, and stuffed the money inside.

The old man's hands were still trembling.

Sheng Ren released his grip and turned to walk into the deep alley next to him.

The people on the street watched his figure disappear into the alleyway, and no one dared to follow him.

The alley was deep, and the sunlight couldn't penetrate it, making it a bit dark.

Halfway there, Sheng Ren stopped.

There is a door on the left, with no sign on it, only a dirty cloth curtain hanging on it.

He pushed the door open and went in.

It was even darker inside, with only a few small windows letting in some light. There were a few empty tables, a few crooked stools, and a person standing behind the bar.

He wore a sharp black suit, his tie was perfectly tied, and his face was expressionless.

It's Bruno.

He was holding a rag in his hand, slowly wiping the glass. He paused for a moment when he saw Sheng Ren come in.

Shengren placed the paper bag on the bar counter.

Bruno stared at his face for three seconds, then his pupils suddenly shrank to a single point.

"It's you—"

Sheng Ren took a step forward.

Bruno's hand instantly pressed down on the bar counter, but he didn't move. It wasn't that he didn't want to move, but that he couldn't.

An invisible Conqueror's Haki pressed down on him like a mountain, making his whole body stiff, unable to bend his fingers, and even making it difficult to breathe.

Sheng Ren walked up to him, raised his right hand, and pressed it firmly against his face.

Pure white flames erupted instantly.

It was just a fleeting moment.

Bruno fell straight backward, crashing into the liquor cabinet behind him, shattering bottles everywhere. His face was burned black, and he was lifeless.

Sheng Ren glanced down, withdrew his hand, turned around and walked back to the bar, opening the paper bag in his hand.

In the original pile of apples, there was an extra fruit. It looked like a small cantaloupe, its skin covered with spiral, door-shaped patterns; it was a newly reborn door fruit.

He reached out, took the fruit out, stuffed it into his pocket, and went out the door.

A crowd gathered at the alley entrance, craning their necks to look inside.

Upon seeing Sheng Ren emerge, the crowd instantly stepped back, making way for him.

He walked forward, and no one dared to stop him or say a word.

Just twenty meters away, the old man at the fruit stall suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on Sheng Ren's back, his face drained of color.

That face...

He hurriedly squatted down and rummaged through the stall for a long time before pulling out a crumpled wanted poster.

Red background with gold trim.

10 billion.

His hands began to tremble.

"That, that is—"

People on the street gathered around.

"What?"

"Who?"

The old man pointed to the alley entrance, his mouth agape, unable to speak.

Someone peeked over there.

"Nobody's here."

"You've got it wrong—"

Before he could finish speaking, someone next to him suddenly shouted:

"It's him! The one who bombed Mary Geoise!"

The whole street was in an uproar.

"Ten billion?!"

"Really?!"

"Let's go after them and see—"

Some people turned and ran, heading towards a naval base.

After running a couple of steps, someone grabbed me.

"Are you fucking insane?"

The man turned around.

The man who grabbed him was a dockworker with a fierce face and calloused hands.

Do you know what he did?

The person running was stunned.

The worker pointed to the entrance of the alley.

"He blew up Mary Geoise," he said, "and turned all those robed demons to ashes."

The street was quiet for a second.

"My sister," the worker said, "was taken away by those people fifteen years ago and never came back. They never even found her remains."

He released his grip on the young man's collar, glanced around at the people around him, and said in a deep voice, "Whoever goes to inform the navy today, I'll kill them first."

Several boatmen, who made their living at the dock year-round, gathered around. They were injured and stared at the young man on the ground with hostile eyes.

"He's not a pirate," someone said. "He's standing up for us ordinary people!"

"Those Celestial Dragons, those beasts, deserved to die!"

"Anyone who dares to snitch, I'll chop off their hand first!"

The young man on the ground huddled together, trembling, and dared not utter another word.

Sheng Ren stood at the corner ten meters away, listening to everything without saying a word.

Sheng Ren turned around and continued walking towards the canal.

Behind him, the dockworker suddenly looked at his retreating figure and shouted with all his might, "Brother! Well done!"

Sheng Ren paused for half a second, but without turning around, he continued walking forward.

East China Sea.

The navy warships were anchored on the shore of an unnamed island, gently rocking with the waves.

On the deck, Shamrock leaned against the ship's railing, clutching a thick stack of wanted posters in his hand. The sea breeze rustled the edges of the papers.

Kizaru stood next to him, hands in his pockets, squinting in the sun, humming a lazy tune.

"It feels so good," he drawled, "the sun in the East China Sea is much gentler than in the New World."

Shamrock ignored him, his fingers flying across the wanted posters in his hand, scanning them one by one. A swordsman with an X-shaped scar on his chin, a red headband, green hair, and a three-sword style...

He flipped to the third page and suddenly stopped.

The wanted poster featured a boy wearing a straw hat, smiling broadly and revealing a set of white teeth.

Monkey D. Luffy, bounty: 30 million Berries.

Kizaru leaned closer for a look, raised an eyebrow, and said in his usual nonchalant tone, "Oh my, isn't this Dragon's son?"

Shamlock stared at the photo for three seconds, then reached out, pulled out the wanted poster, and stuffed it into his pocket.

He turned around and walked towards the bridge, his voice deep: "Let's go, get to work. Akainu and the others are almost back from the West Blue, we need to hurry too."