Sea Circle Calendar Year 1494
The world had changed.
The seas were wilder, the skies harsher, and the Marines more ruthless than ever. But through all of it, one crew stood above the rest — a ship that sailed as if it carried the will of the sea itself.
The Oro Jackson cut across the Grand Line like a crimson streak under the dawn sun, its sails swollen with wind and laughter echoing from its deck.
Eight years had passed since Nyx D. Ada first stepped aboard.
Eight years since the assassin who once hid in shadows now stood beneath the same flag as the man destined to shake the world.
She was twenty-four now — taller, sharper, her aura carrying a calm power that could silence storms. Gone was the cold, distant killer of the Rocks era. What remained was something new — something the world had no name for.
At twenty-four, she had matured into a figure both graceful and dangerous — the same lethal precision she had possessed at sixteen now tempered by years of experience. Every move, every glance, carried the weight of countless battles, countless decisions that had shaped her into the Crimson Shadow.
Her crimson dress fluttered lightly in the sea breeze, elegant yet battle-ready. Its slit traced her leg for freedom of movement, fabric glinting faintly with the sheen of reinforced thread she'd sewn herself. The black strap holsters on her thigh and shoulder gave her the familiar edge of danger, but there was grace to her now — the poise of a woman who had learned to fight not just to survive, but to protect.
"Still staring at the horizon as if it owes you something?" Rayleigh called from the deck, chuckling.
Ada didn't turn. "The horizon is full of secrets," she replied evenly. "I just want to see which ones we find first."
"Secrets, huh?" Spencer piped up, leaning against the railing beside her. "You think the seas will just hand them over? I've got a feeling you'll make it a little… messier."
She smirked faintly. "Messier is more fun."
Even the younger generation added their chaos. Buggy, now eight, raced across the deck, dragging a small barrel with him. Beside him, Shanks mirrored his antics, laughing as he tried to climb the rigging.
"Careful, Buggy!" Shanks shouted. "You'll fall in the water!"
"Then you better catch me!" Buggy retorted, grinning widely.
Shanks glanced toward Ada, who was standing nearby, her crimson dress fluttering in the wind. "Big… Sis Ada, watch me!" he called, pointing toward a high rope on the rigging.
Ada tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Keep your balance, Shanks. Don't make me rescue you too."
The boy's wide eyes reflected excitement tinged with caution. He nodded solemnly, trusting her words.
Buggy, seeing this, shouted, "Hey! I'm learning too! Don't leave me behind!"
Ada gave a slight shrug, turning her attention back to the horizon. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance… and try not to fall into the sea."
Rayleigh, watching from the deck, shook his head. "The crew has grown a lot in six years. And yet, Ada… she hasn't changed. Still precise, still focused. Just… sharper."
"She's definitely the one to watch," Donquino muttered. "Even Roger listens when she speaks."
"Big Sis Ada!"
The voice broke through her thoughts — bright, boyish, and loud enough to startle the seagulls.
Ada turned, lips curving faintly as Shanks, came running back up the deck, wooden sword in hand. His red hair whipped in the wind, his grin wide.
Behind him, Buggy, also eight, chased after with his usual frustrated yells. "Oi, stop calling her that! She's not your sister, you idiot!"
Ada arched a brow, crossing her arms. "You two at it again?"
"He started it!" Buggy huffed.
Ada smirked. "He?"
Buggy froze. "…Fine, I started it."
Shanks snickered behind him. "Told you."
Buggy tried to mimic him, causing a ruckus and making some crew members laugh.
"At least someone here still has energy left to waste," Ada muttered, though there was a faint warmth in her voice.
From the deck, Jacksonbanner laughed. "Sounds like she's got the whole crew wrapped around her finger."
"Wrapped around her finger?" Millet Pine teased, drawing her bow. "Try wrapped around her sword. I've sparred with her — one strike, and you're learning humility fast."
"I've seen that firsthand," Rowing added. "She doesn't just hit hard — she makes every move count. Precision in motion."
The crew nearby burst into laughter. The deck of the Oro Jackson was alive with noise — sailors scrubbing, Gaban tuning his guitar, and a few of the newer members chatting near the mast.
Among them were Spencer, the crew's sharp-eyed intelligence officer whose every plan ran like clockwork.
Moon Isaac Jr., calm and composed, yet deadly the moment blades were drawn.
Donquino, the thrill-seeking helmsman who laughed in the face of storms.
Blumarine, steady and loyal as the tides.
Millet Pine, the interrogator whose calm smile could make even pirates break.
Rowing and Erio, twin fighters whose unpredictable movements turned every battle into chaos.
Petermoo, small in stature but fierce in spirit.
And Jacksonbanner, the ever-spirited musician whose songs turned long voyages into celebrations.
Each had joined in their own time, and together they forged the growing legend of the Roger Pirates — a crew destined to shake the seas and etch their names into history.
Roger's voice boomed from the helm. "Oi, oi! If you three are done bickering, we've got a new island ahead!"
Ada walked up beside Rayleigh, who was leaning lazily against the rail, cup in hand.
His eyes gleamed under the sun. "You've gotten soft," he teased. "Six years ago, you'd have drawn a gun on them for interrupting your aim."
Ada gave a quiet laugh. "And six years ago, you would've tried to trip me for fun."
"True," Rayleigh grinned. "But back then, you would've shot me for it."
"Still might," she said dryly, though the smile lingered.
From the helm, Roger threw back his head and laughed. "Oi, Rayleigh! Stop bickering and get your sword ready! I smell an adventure!"
"You always smell adventure," Rayleigh sighed.
"Better than smelling death," Ada added, earning another round of laughter.
The new island came into view by noon — a crescent-shaped stretch of green with ancient stone towers jutting out of its cliffs. Mist coiled around it like silver smoke.
The ship anchored, and Roger leapt onto the dock first, landing with his usual booming confidence. "Alright, crew! Let's see what treasures this island hides!"
Shanks and Buggy cheered. The others followed, spreading out in formation. Ada walked behind them, scanning the horizon.
Something about the island felt… old.
Not just in ruins — ancient.
The forest whispered. The air itself hummed.
Rayleigh noticed her pause. "Something off?"
Ada's fingers brushed the hilt of her sword. "Just feels… familiar."
"Familiar how?"
"Like the ruins," she murmured. "Or maybe older."
Roger's laughter echoed from up ahead. "Then we're in for a treat! Come on, Ada — your instincts haven't failed us yet!"
They pushed deeper inland, through tangled roots and collapsed temples. Carvings on the walls showed figures of long-lost people, the same swirling script Ada remembered from the poneglyphs.
Rowing called down, "I see something! Stones with carvings… old writings, maybe a Poneglyph?"
Roger, standing near Ada, nodded thoughtfully. "Could be. We've collected a few, but the seas still hold many secrets. We'll need to study them."
Shanks looked up in awe. "Big Sis Ada, what's that writing?"
She smiled faintly. "Something even the world government fears."
"Ah," Roger said, smiling faintly. "Then perhaps this one will finally give us a clue."
Roger crouched near one wall, his hand hovering over the markings. His expression changed — quiet, focused.
Ada noticed instantly. "You can hear it again, can't you?"
He nodded slowly, the grin fading into something deeper. "Yeah… it's like a voice. Calling out through time."
The crew fell silent. Even the waves outside seemed to hush.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft murmur of wind through the ruins.
Ada stepped closer. "What's it saying?"
Roger looked at her — and smiled. Not his usual wild grin, but something solemn. "A story. About a forgotten kingdom. About people who tried to free the world."
Ada's heart tightened. "And failed."
"Maybe," Roger said quietly. "Or maybe their will still lives on — in people like us."
By sunset, they returned to the ship, laughter and treasure sacks filling the air.
Buggy argued with Shanks about who found more gold. Rayleigh teased them both, while Gaban strummed a lazy tune on his guitar.
Ada stood at the stern, watching the horizon bleed orange. Roger came to stand beside her, arms crossed.
"You've changed a lot, Ada."
She raised a brow. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
He laughed. "Aye, it is! Six years ago, you barely said two words a day. Now you talk more than Rayleigh!"
"I highly doubt that," Rayleigh called from behind them, earning another wave of laughter.
Roger's tone softened. "You've become someone the crew looks up to. You train the boys, watch the sails, patch the wounded, fight when needed… If that's not what a real pirate should be, I don't know what is."
Ada's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "You've given me something I didn't think I'd find again."
"What's that?"
"A purpose and a dream."
Roger smiled quietly. "Good. Hold onto that."
Later that night, when the crew had fallen asleep beneath the stars, Ada stayed awake by the bow, wind brushing her hair.
The sea was calm — too calm.
She closed her eyes, feeling that strange pull again — the same instinct that had saved her countless times before.
Something was coming.
The wind carried whispers of change, the kind that preceded storms and wars. The seas were shifting, and so was fate.
Roger's laughter echoed from his quarters — loud, carefree, and full of life.
Ada smiled faintly to herself. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Captain," she murmured. "The world won't stay quiet for long."
Far to the east, unseen by any of them, the shadows of new powers began to move — Marines, warlords, and whispers of kings and dragons in the dark.
The age of pirates was drawing near its crescendo.
And when it came, Nyx D. Ada would stand at its heart — crimson, unyielding, and unstoppable.