The execution platform in Loguetown stood like a ghost of the past. Every pirate who dared set foot on it either courted death… or mocked it.
Gol D. Roger had died there smiling.
Now, Kairos stood at its base, not smiling, but thinking—haunted by everything that had led to this moment.
His battle with Fishman Fang had made waves—literally and metaphorically. The Marines had noticed. Bounty hunters had taken interest. And something worse had stirred.
Because blood brings predators.
And Kairos was about to spill his first.
---
A City on Edge
"Loguetown's changing," said Bonney, chewing on a meat skewer as they moved through the market. "The guards are on high alert."
"They weren't this tense when Arlong's goons passed through a year ago," muttered Jinx.
"They know someone big is in town," Nami replied, scanning the rooftops. "It's not just us."
They weren't wrong.
As they passed a fruit stall, a woman in a dark red cloak tilted her head, whispering into a Den Den Mushi. On a nearby tower, a sniper adjusted his scope. And in the alley behind them, a presence loomed—a hunter with no name, only a mission.
To draw blood from the Power Devil.
---
A Challenge Unspoken
Kairos knew it would come.
He had been too flashy. His fruit was too rare. The name "Compass Pirates" was already being scribbled on bounty posters before they'd left East Blue.
But this wasn't about bounties.
It was about message.
He stood on the old execution platform not to provoke—but to understand. What had Roger seen in those final moments? What freedom did he find in death?
He didn't find an answer.
Only a shadow.
And a whisper:
> "Die."
---
An Assassin's Greeting
Kairos barely dodged.
A dagger coated in black Haki sliced through air, cutting a strand of his hair. He rolled off the edge of the platform as a second blade pierced the stone where his chest had been.
The attacker followed—slim, masked, fast.
"Who the hell—!?" Bonney shouted, drawing her weapon.
"No name," Kairos said, landing in a crouch. "No face. Just intent."
The assassin moved like lightning. Every movement was meant to kill, not fight. Pressure points. Jugulars. Arteries. Not a warrior—an executioner.
And Kairos?
He wasn't ready.
---
Blood on the Stone
The dagger bit into his shoulder.
Not deep. But enough.
His blood hit the cobblestone.
First blood.
Real blood.
He stumbled, pain singing down his arm. The crowd screamed and scattered. Marines began rushing toward the platform.
But the assassin didn't stop. She moved with purpose, going for a finishing blow—
CLANG!
Zoroko's blade intercepted just in time.
"You're fast," she said, eyes narrowing. "But I've cut down faster."
The assassin backflipped, vanishing into the smoke bomb she dropped.
Gone.
But not defeated.
Not yet.
---
The Meaning of the Cut
Roroko wrapped Kairos's shoulder tightly.
"First time?" she asked quietly.
He nodded.
"It hurts more than you expect."
"Yeah. It's not just pain," he said, staring at the blood on his fingers. "It's… proof."
"Of what?"
"That I'm not invincible. That no matter what I can swap, I'm still flesh and will."
Bonney crouched next to him.
"That was a pro. Not some street rat. She wanted you dead, and she almost got it."
"But why now?" asked Toma. "We're still small. We haven't even crossed into the Grand Line yet."
"That's exactly why," Nami said grimly. "Because if we do, the world won't be ready for him."
---
Birth of the Compass
Kairos stood again on the platform, bandaged and hurting—but alive.
He raised his voice.
"Let them come."
His words echoed across the square.
"I'm not here to be a tyrant. I'm not here to replace a king."
He looked at the place where Roger had died.
"I'm here to be a compass. To point toward the future."
People stared. Some laughed. Some clapped. Some… watched in silence.
And far in the shadows, the assassin listened—and retreated.
First blood had been drawn.
But the war?
Was just beginning.