Chapter 16: Come Down and Have a Drink

【Observation Haki: 5000 points】

【Armament Haki: 5000 points】

The dual Haki available at the platform’s shop for 5000 points made Seven forcibly suppress his urge to buy the flight cloak.

The cloak may be stylish, but compared to the two Haki types, it remains an external object.

“I’m destined to become the strongest man in the world—I won’t end up as a cautionary tale like Crocodile.”

The mighty Warlord Crocodile, obsessed with chasing an ancient weapon, neglected Haki training and was defeated by Luffy, who had just set sail and possessed no Haki at all.

It’s an insult to the Natural Type.

I’ll train for a while first. If I can awaken dual Haki through cultivation, then I’ll buy the flight cloak and flight bamboo dragonfly.

There’s no help for it—Seven is poor.

If Seven had a million points right now, he’d push all three Haki types to their peak and buy whatever he wanted.

But poverty demands a poor man’s way of living.

Through items sold and bought by end-of-world users, Seven had a rough idea of their circumstances.

A month ago, the end-of-world guy was still begging for food and water; now he’s buying Water Shells and Laser Shells.

He’s probably in the same situation as Seven—just recently unlocked his system.

He certainly doesn’t have extra points to spare.

On the Multiverse Trading Platform, Hammer World users are by far the richest, willing to spend tens of thousands of points to bounty hunt Momonosuke, the Fugitive King, and Third Brother.

They treat points like they’re nothing.

Fugitive King hasn’t even been born yet.

As for Momonosuke…

With Oden still alive, Seven decided to visit Wano in four years—when Kuma kills Oden, he’ll personally eliminate Momonosuke.

Compared to ten thousand points,

the fleeting bond Seven once had with Oden in Roger’s crew is utterly insignificant.

After all, this father-son pair… are disgustingly stupid.

After washing up and changing into new clothes, Seven slipped his hands into his pockets and walked slowly toward the banquet hall.

“Too bad I don’t know what Hammer Guy needs—if I did, I could target my sales.”

People’s circumstances ultimately differ—Seven’s current desperate need for points is, to a wealthy Hammer World resident, more than enough to last a lifetime.

As for that idiot from Teyvat, he’s got a goddess wife and a goddess aunt-in-law.

He’s practically the textbook example of a transmigrator.

When Seven entered the banquet hall, while the Shandian warriors showed him warmth and respect, many of the Sky Island natives wore outright hostility on their faces.

Seven didn’t care much.

He hoped they’d immediately start shouting:

【On Sky Island soil, we Sky Islanders have become second-class citizens! Brothers, guns in hand—follow me!!】

Then Seven could show his iron-fisted side.

Anyone who dares resist—leave not a single one alive!

The banquet hall resembled a backyard barbecue from Seven’s past life; seated at the main table, Seven watched as Karpa and the former Sky God Gan Fuer cheered.

“Today, we gather here.”

Seven raised his cup: “To celebrate hard-won peace—this drink is to peace!”

“To peace!”

“To peace!”

Overall, those among the Sky Islanders dissatisfied with their new god remained a minority.

Most had no choice but to go with the flow.

The two races had fought for four hundred years, but under Gan Fuer’s deliberate push, calls for peaceful coexistence had long spread between them.

One could say Seven stole the fruit.

One cup after another, warriors from both races drank deeply and devoured meat; the atmosphere gradually warmed.

Around the crackling bonfire, Karpa and Gan Fuer led their people in the Shandian ritual dance honoring the Sun God.

Then, when Seven pulled out his guitar to accompany them—

Mihawk nearly spat out his drink. He truly wanted to know: what can’t you do?

“This guy could form a whole band by himself!”

Masterful cook, skilled helmsman, mapmaker, compass craftsman, ship repairer, guitarist… except for swimming, he’s utterly capable.

At the invitation of a Sky Island girl, Seven joined the dancing crowd.

Deng da da da~ Deng da da da~

The ritual dance, reminiscent of the Nika dance—how to describe it? Before dancing, it seemed childish; while dancing, it was truly joyful.

“Deng da da da~ Deng da da da~”

Elderly warriors from both races watched this scene and wept; some even joined in, swaying to the rhythm Seven hummed.

Peace is never just words—it must be proven through action.

The doctor didn’t join the dance, but his expression clearly showed interest.

Mihawk didn’t enter the dance circle, but his toes unconsciously tapped along to the beat—until a figure appeared, and Mihawk shot to his feet.

……

Kizaru flew from the sea to the Sky Island—and what met his eyes was this:

Barzab Seven, the man the World Government demanded alive, was dancing…

With a crowd of men and women, young and old, with tiny wings on their backs…

Through airborne waves, Seven lifted his head in surprise, recognized the man, and didn’t panic—instead, he raised his cup with a smile.

“Come down and have a drink.”

The coming battle was likely unavoidable.

But before fighting, Seven decided to play a trick—he’d have Gan Fuer use an Image Shell to photograph him drinking with Kizaru.

Kizaru hovered midair, his face flickering with stunned disbelief: this guy just invited him to drink?

Fine.

He’d crossed half the Grand Line from Marineford in two days, then searched for ages near Shengtingdao and Jiayadao.

He was indeed thirsty.

Kizaru sat down opposite Mihawk.

“Jorul Mihawk—how could a man like you be with Barzab?”

Mihawk poured himself more wine, and his offhand remark froze Kizaru’s smile instantly.

“He’s my captain.”

“Nani?!”

Kizaru clicked his tongue.

He realized the World Government and Marine intelligence system were complete idiots—such critical information had gone completely unnoticed.

Actually, the moment he saw Mihawk, Kizaru understood: this was going to be difficult.

His mission objective—

Barzab, former member of the Roger Pirates, possesses the qualities of a king and has consumed the Thunder-Thunder Fruit, comparable in power to the Gura Gura no Mi.

The other prisoner seemed unimportant.

The World Government added no extra demands—only ordered him captured alive.

Now there’s this unexpected variable: Mihawk.

And the island floating ten thousand meters above, inhabited by its native race—all of it collided at once.

What the hell is going on?

While Kizaru spoke with Mihawk, Seven had already ordered Gan Fuer and Karpa to lead their people far away—and to photograph him drinking with Kizaru.

Facing the future Marine Admiral Kizaru, Seven had to try every method he could think of.

Whether he could coerce him was one thing.

Whether he’d try was another.

Seven sat beside Mihawk, raised his cup: “You’ve come a long way, Mr. Borsalino.”

“I drink to you.”