Law

575

The wind howled through the narrow streets of the port town as the crowd bustled, each person eager to complete their business and move on. Amidst the chaos, a lone figure stood out. At first glance, he was almost unnoticeable, dressed in a long, spotted coat with a fur-lined hood pulled over his head. But as he moved forward, the crowd unconsciously parted, as if instinctively sensing the danger he carried. Trafalgar D. Law’s sharp, calculating eyes scanned the area, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his nodachi. His expression was as cold and unreadable as ever, betraying nothing of his thoughts. Behind him, his crew waited silently, their presence adding an extra layer of tension to the air. Anyone meeting him for the first time would feel an immediate, subtle weight—a sense that this man was not one to cross lightly.