Upon witnessing the power of that sword, the pirates on both sides cried out in terror.
Recently, a demon had appeared in South Blue, a swordsman capable of ending the life of any pirate with a single strike, no matter how strong they were.
The nature of that strike was a mystery, for none who had seen it had lived to tell the tale.
On the sea, the most talked-about figure was this enigmatic swordsman— Battōsai.
He targeted only pirates, and none he set his blade upon had ever survived. His merciless methods had struck fear deep into the hearts of countless outlaws, leaving them to pray each night that they would never cross his path.
Yet, against all odds, today, they had.
No one knew Battōsai's true identity, nor had anyone glimpsed his face, but among pirates, it was said that if you ever saw his swordplay, you would instantly recognize him.
It was this very legend that led the trembling pirates to identify Rojen immediately, crying out his dreaded name.
"Battōsai, we've done nothing to provoke you! Why are you attacking us?!"
One of the pirates shouted, his voice laced with fear. He had long heard of Battōsai's reputation, and if there was one person in all of South Blue he never wanted to anger, it was him.
"With your hands stained in innocent blood, do you expect mercy?" Rojen's voice was as cold as the sea breeze as he took another step forward.
Jason followed suit, stepping forward in large strides and sweeping his arm across the deck. Ten more pirates were sent flying, their bodies already unconscious before they even hit the ground.
"Damn it! The rumors said Battōsai worked alone! Who the hell is this monster?!"
They had already feared Battōsai, but the sheer brute strength of this massive man was just as terrifying.
The two cut through the crew of nearly a hundred with frightening ease, each strike sending blood splattering across the deck. Their overwhelming strength was a defense in itself, leaving the pirates helpless against them.
Some pirates, unable to withstand the fear, abandoned their weapons and leaped overboard, choosing the sea over certain death at Rojen's hands.
Rojen sighed, somewhat speechless. He had intended to finish them all, but he wasn't about to dive into the sea to chase them.
In this vast ocean, with no ships for miles, jumping overboard was as good as signing their own death warrants. Would they truly rather take their chances with the sea than face him?
Shaking his head, Rojen strode toward the treasure hold of the ship.
Three minutes later, he emerged with a satisfied smirk.
"These two pirate crews just pushed my haul up to 300 Million."
At this moment, his system balance displayed a long string of numbers— 310 Million.
It was an amount greater than anything Rojen had ever possessed before. If he could use it all, what kind of power could he bring forth?
"A swordsman like Vista? A force like Rayleigh? A monster like Kaido?"
The names flashed through his mind, and an eager anticipation filled his chest.
The system's assessment of strength was always vague, but he had deduced certain limits.
Logically, someone like Dracule Mihawk should be worth at least a Billion, marked at an upper rank, yet by sheer fortune, Rojen had summoned powerful figures before at unexpectedly lower costs.
Now, with 300 Million at his disposal, what level of warrior could he call forth? He couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Baterilla..." he muttered under his breath. "The enemies waiting for me there will be unlike anything I've faced before."
His eyes gleamed with caution.
The Marines were relentless in their hunt for Roger's descendants and anyone tied to them. Those sent to intercept such threats were the likes of Dragon in his early days— Rear Admirals and rising stars.
But the forces stationed at Baterilla itself? They would be far stronger.
"Vice Admirals..."
Rojen murmured the title, uncertain of just how formidable they truly were. But without a doubt, Marine Vice Admirals had mastered Haki, and their use of Rokushiki techniques allowed them to fight even the strongest Devil Fruit users with ease.
As for himself, his strength came solely from the ghosts he summoned through the system.
His personal power? He likely wasn't even worth a 100-million bounty— nothing more than a rookie in this world of monsters.
"Not enough!" Rojen's gaze hardened.
He had just thought 300 million was a vast sum, yet in an instant, he pulled himself out of that illusion.
Was it truly that much?
For an ordinary pirate, certainly. But for him, summoning warriors of unpredictable strength, it was nothing.
Could 300 million summon someone capable of challenging a Vice Admiral? And if they could handle that, what about an Admiral?
By his estimates, summoning the ghost of a fighter on an admiral level would likely cost over a billion.
"300 million?" He scoffed. That amount wouldn't even let him glimpse the summit of power.
Clenching his fists, his expression steadied.
He turned to Jason and gave a nod. The battle was over. It was time to move.
Once back aboard 'The Logan', Rojen handed all sailing duties to Jason and sat alone on the deck, closing his eyes in deep thought.
A crucial realization struck him.
The issue wasn't how powerful he could summon—it was his own weakness.
"Even if I can call forth the strongest warriors, I still remain weak myself."
"The true value of the system isn't just summoning power—it's learning from them."
"I must not be blinded by borrowed strength. I need to build my own."
A thoughtful look crossed Rojen's face.
He had entertained these thoughts before but had hesitated, fearing the waste of precious resources. But now, with 300 million at his disposal, his perspective had changed.
"Why should I hesitate to spend tens or hundreds of thousands?"
"Summoning high-grade ghosts costs a fortune, but low-grade ones can still teach valuable lessons."
"Swordsmanship, martial arts— no master was ever born strong."
A smirk played at Rojen's lips.
Now that he had found a new direction, everything seemed much clearer.
"System, summon a red-grade soul. Focus on sword arts."
The system deducted the balance instantly, and soon, a series of intricate sword techniques began flooding Rojen's mind.
He watched the flashes of movement in his mind's eye, absorbing the knowledge as if he were truly wielding a blade himself.
Red-grade souls were cheap— barely tens of thousands of belly each. Even if he summoned dozens, it would cost no more than 100,000— which is a trivial sum for him now.
As the summoned swordsman's possession wore off, Rojen wasted no time and called forth another.
An hour passed in focused training.
By the end of it, Rojen furrowed his brows, deep in thought.
(End of Chapter)
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