Chapter Eleven: The Dawn of the Great Age of Pirates

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Dawn broke quickly the next day. Looking at the sun in the sky, Camus thought of Robin—just a little longer, and he could return to her side. Leaving the inn, it wasn't long before he found Shanks and the others. At that moment, they were drowning their sorrows in a bar. Camus shook his head and walked inside.

“Hey, Shanks, aren’t you a bit young to be drinking like this?” Camus walked over with a smile.

“Camus, you really came. Uncle Rayleigh just mentioned you, but I didn’t believe him. How did you get here? Weren’t you on Ohara?” Shanks looked at him in surprise.

Camus chuckled, “You wouldn't believe it if I told you. I came on Whitebeard’s ship. He’s here too, just offshore—but he couldn’t come ashore.”

“What? Whitebeard’s here too? What’s he doing?” Rayleigh was the first to react. After competing with Whitebeard for so many years, he knew him well, but still couldn’t guess his intentions.

“Whitebeard—the captain of the Whitebeard Pirates, the only one who could truly rival our captain. Why would he come?” Shanks was curious, and Buggy, who was nearby, turned to listen as well.

“I don’t really know. Whitebeard said he wasn’t here to rescue Uncle Roger. He even advised me not to try it—he said Roger has his own reasons.” Camus thought for a moment, then explained calmly.

“So Whitebeard knows, huh? Roger wouldn’t live much longer even if he escaped.” Rayleigh sighed, uttering words that stunned the entire group.

Camus remembered the original story mentioning Roger’s grave illness, but it was still hard to believe—how could someone so strong fall ill?

Shanks and Buggy also looked incredulous. Their captain was always so spirited. Although they often saw him eating medicines given by the old man in charge of the galley, they never imagined the illness was so severe.

“What happened, Uncle Rayleigh? Roger is so strong—how could he possibly get an incurable disease out of nowhere?” Camus’s curiosity was piqued. The manga never specified, only mentioning that Roger’s illness was incurable, and the old man was brought on board to prolong his life, but no details were given.

Rayleigh gazed out at the passing pedestrians and spoke slowly, “It was not long after we entered the Grand Line. On a small island, Roger was bitten by a poisonous insect. At first, he didn’t notice, but a few weeks later, something was clearly wrong—he collapsed on board while drinking. We panicked, but eventually found the old man, who said Roger had been bitten by a rare Grand Line insect. The poison lay dormant in his body for a long time—the stronger the person, the longer the latency, and the slower the illness. The medicine could only suppress it. Contact with seawater worsened the symptoms, but Roger’s dream was to become Pirate King, so he persuaded the old man to join us. After several attempts, the medicine could only suppress the illness for three years; after that, it would rapidly deteriorate, and nothing could be done. That was five years ago. I didn’t think Roger would last this long.” Rayleigh finished with a sigh, then took a long swig of liquor.

Camus was stunned by this revelation. The Pirate King’s downfall—brought about by a tiny insect on the Grand Line...

Shanks found it hard to believe, but Uncle Rayleigh would never lie. He had no choice but to accept it.

Who would have thought—the great Gol D. Roger, felled not by an enemy’s blade, but by an insect? Camus’s heart ached. The author had never revealed the cause of Roger’s illness, only that he was kept alive by medicine. Yet, despite it all, Roger had persevered for two extra years—a true hero. Camus could only curse that insect in his heart.

Lost in thought, Camus finally slumped over the table with a sigh. Shanks picked up his drink and took another gulp.

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“Hey, you brats—don’t go repeating Roger’s mistakes in the future. Be careful,” Rayleigh warned earnestly.

Camus was exasperated—wasn’t that just a curse?

Time passed quickly. Soon, it was nearly noon—the hour of Roger’s execution. Troops of the World Government began clearing the streets. Camus bid farewell to Shanks and made his way alone to the pool near the execution platform.

Crowds of civilians and pirates—disguised as ordinary people—gathered quickly. The World Government seemed to turn a blind eye; Roger’s execution was clearly their top priority.

Soon, Roger appeared—the man who had amassed wealth, fame, and power, the greatest man of his era: Gol D. Roger. Though he walked toward death, he still carried himself like a king.

Both sides of the boulevard were packed with people. Roger walked steadily forward. Suddenly, a boy of about ten broke through the crowd—Camus saw him clearly, a head of white hair: it was Smoker. Roger caught the worshipful look in the white-haired boy’s eyes and smiled gently before continuing.

Camus watched as Roger drew near, then transformed into an elemental form and stood atop the stone spire in the center of the pool. No one from the World Government tried to stop him.

Watching Roger’s dignified stride, Camus found himself swept up in the atmosphere, gazing at the Pirate King as he walked proudly toward the scaffold.

Soon, when Roger was not far away, he noticed Camus and seemed to find his face familiar. Roger smiled at Camus, then proceeded to the scaffold.

Camus watched as Roger ascended the execution platform.

The legacy of an era—the tide of time, the dreams of mankind—as long as people continue to seek freedom, these things will never end.

At that moment, the two executioners above, pressured by Roger’s presence, were drenched in sweat, though the day was indeed hot.

“Any final words?” asked the executioner on the right, his voice trembling under Roger’s aura.

Smiling, Roger lifted his hands, still bound by wooden cuffs, and said, “Could you take these off? They itch like crazy.”

“That’s not possible,” the executioner replied, looking up at the sky, unable to meet Roger’s gaze.

“Do you really think I’d try to escape?” Even at the end, Roger couldn’t resist a joke.

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Roger said, “What a letdown,” and walked to the center of the scaffold, turning to sit down.

“Come on, let’s get this over with!” Roger remained relaxed, utterly unfazed by death.

The two executioners spun their blades and crossed them before Roger, who met them with a serene smile.

At that moment, a civilian below shouted, “Hey, Pirate King! Where did you hide all your treasure? Is it really on the Grand Line? Did you find it? The legendary great treasure—the one and only, the One Piece!”

The crowd fell silent.

Camus watched Roger, feeling a sudden urge to rescue him, but held back. This was Roger’s choice—one that Camus could not change.

Suddenly, Roger burst into laughter. The silence deepened.

“My treasure?” “You’re not allowed to speak!” the executioners barked, but Roger just smiled.

“If you want it, you can have it all.”

“Go find it! I left all my treasure there!”

The crowd gaped in shock as Roger died, faces frozen in awe. For a long moment, silence reigned, then the masses erupted in cheers.

The era of great pirates had begun. Though Gol D. Roger was dead, he had opened the age of pirates.

He departed with a smile.

…………

Ah, I didn’t update yesterday because I had to work overtime—sorry.

Group number: 78796064

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