"But… but Pops, weren't we supposed to monitor the other Four Emperors closely?"
"Now that so many of their top officers have been wiped out, their forces are heavily weakened… Isn't that good news?"
The crewmember's voice grew quieter and quieter as he spoke, realizing something wasn't quite right.
After all, the Navy, Beasts Pirates, and Big Mom Pirates had always been bitter enemies of the Whitebeard Pirates. They'd clashed countless times—more than could be counted on two hands.
Now their high-ranking officers had all been killed, their strength massively reduced. How could that not be good news?
Not to mention, the Golden Lion, who had been silent for years, was also an old rival of Whitebeard's. His death should've been cause for celebration too.
"Golden Lion, huh… The guy who once cornered Roger to such a desperate point… He's really dead?"
Whitebeard's expression turned complicated.
Over twenty years ago, Golden Lion, Roger, and Whitebeard stood like three titans atop the Grand Line—a triad of unrivaled power ruling the seas.
Back then, there were no Four Emperors. No Warlords of the Sea.
They were the rulers of the era.
Golden Lion had ambitions to conquer the world, his roar echoing across the four seas. His strength and ambition were unmatched—he nearly killed Roger at one point.
And now… a legend like him, fallen quietly to the hands of an unknown rookie?
Even as enemies, Whitebeard couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow in his heart.
One by one, the titans of Roger's era had fallen.
Of the Four Emperors, he was the last remnant of that age.
Whitebeard could feel it… The time had come for him, too, to say farewell to this era.
"Whiteflame…"
"To be able to witness a monster like him emerge before I leave this world…"
"I've profited far more than Roger or Golden Lion ever did!"
"If the chance ever comes, I'd love to cross blades with him—a real, no-holds-barred fight!"
A glint of battle-lust sparked in Whitebeard's eyes.
Meanwhile, in the New World…
Dozens of pirate ships floated on the vast ocean.
The sea had been dyed red with blood. Corpses littered the shattered remains of ships, their lifeless eyes still frozen in terror.
Amid this field of death, a tiny boat—barely big enough to hold two or three people—sailed forward slowly and serenely.
And on that boat sat a man so infamous, his name alone could strike fear into anyone on the Grand Line.
Short black hair.
Piercing golden hawk-like eyes.
A trimmed beard.
A black hat adorned with white fur.
A wine-red patterned shirt, black vest, and white trousers.
Strapped to his back was a massive, cross-shaped black blade with a unique and menacing design.
There was no mistaking it—this was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, known as the World's Strongest Swordsman—
Dracule Mihawk, also known as Hawk-Eye!
At that moment, a news-delivery bird swooped down and landed on his arm.
He took the message tied to its leg, and the bird flapped away.
Unfolding the letter, Mihawk read through its contents silently.
When he reached the part that read:
"Admiral Kizaru is dead."
A flicker of surprise flashed across his golden eyes.
After a moment, Mihawk folded the letter again.
"Fleet Admiral, Admirals, Vice Admirals, Rear Admirals… even the Seven Warlords summoned…"
"All this… just to hunt one man?"
"What kind of person… could possibly push the Navy into such a frenzy?"
"I think it's time… to go take a look myself."
A faint gleam of interest lit up in Mihawk's eyes.
Calm Belt, First Half of the Grand Line — Amazon Lily
Inside the royal palace of Amazon Lily, island of the warrior women—
"Empress-sama! A mandatory summons from the Navy has arrived!"
A woman with a serpentine frame and snake-like tongue slithered into the room.
"The Navy?"
"Throw it in the fire. Not interested."
Her voice was cold and tired. Her long, flowing black hair cascaded to her waist. Her deep sapphire eyes radiated indifference.
She wore snake-shaped earrings, her flawless, ivory skin glowing like polished jade.
But nothing compared to her face—a beauty so devastating, it could topple nations.
Every movement, every glance, carried divine allure—the kind that left men hopelessly enslaved.
She was none other than one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea:
The Pirate Empress, Boa Hancock.
"But Empress-sama," said Boa Sandersonia, gently.
"The Navy officer said that if you refuse the summons, the World Government will strip you of your Warlord title."
"You should at least read it before you decide."
"Tch… Pathetic. Is bullying the only tactic the Navy knows?"
"They'd better give me a damn good reason. Otherwise, they won't like my response."
Hancock snorted coldly and took the letter.
With delicate fingers, she opened it and began to read.
Soon, a glint of surprise emerged in her deep-blue eyes. The deeper she read, the more intense her reaction became.
At one particular line, her hand trembled.
She finished reading, lowered the letter slowly, and turned to look out the window.
"Empress-sama… have you made your decision?"
Sandersonia asked carefully.
"Prepare the ship. I'm setting sail."
Hancock stood up, her eyes gleaming with resolve.
"Yes! I'll get everything ready immediately!"
Sandersonia bowed and backed away.
Hancock, however, picked up the letter once more… reading it over and over.
Especially the part that listed Whiteflame's alleged crimes.
One line, in particular, caught her eye:
"Crime #7: The murder of a Celestial Dragon."
The War in Alabasta! (Continued)
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the world…
Other Warlords of the Sea—Jinbe, Gecko Moria, Bartholomew Kuma, and Crocodile—also received the Navy's forced summons.
In an instant, the Navy's expeditionary force expanded dramatically once again!
Seven Days Later — High Above the Sea
At an altitude of hundreds of meters, a massive floating island drifted slowly through the sky.
At its peak flew a brand new pirate flag: Nine golden dragons, each more vivid and lifelike than before, coiled and roared in unison.
This was the newly constructed Nine Dragons, which had now been sailing for seven days.
They had reentered the Grand Line and were currently en route to the Sky Island.
"Whiteflame! We need to go west!"
Her body read pressure like braille—storm sign in blue sky—exactly why he wanted this navigator.
Nami, lounging on a heap of treasure while sunbathing, suddenly raised her arm and called out.
"There's going to be a huge storm in the east!"
Whiteflame, who had been training nearby using his Juice-Juice Fruit powers, glanced up at the clear sky.
To most, such clear skies wouldn't suggest any storm—but Whiteflame didn't hesitate.
With a simple wave, he adjusted the ship's course westward.
Ten minutes later—
BOOM—
Dark clouds rolled in from the east, thunder rumbling and rain pouring in sheets, stirring the ocean into chaos.
Had Whiteflame not listened to Nami, the Nine Dragons would have been caught in the storm like a leaf in a maelstrom—risking capsizing at any moment.
"Wow! Nami-nee is amazing! There really was a storm!"
Rebecca exclaimed, eyes sparkling.
"Nami's a genius navigator," said baby-5, emerging from the pool and shaking the water from her face with a satisfied smile.
"With her around, we'll never have to worry about the weather again."
Monet, watching Whiteflame calmly smoking at the bow, smiled softly.
With a flick of her hand, snowflakes drifted into the chilled drinks nearby, cooling them instantly.
In such heat, to enjoy drinks as crisp and refreshing as winter snow… was there anything more luxurious?
Suddenly—
"Hmm?"
Whiteflame's Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki) spread outward, detecting distant movement and commotion.
His eyes narrowed, gazing toward the horizon where sea met sky… but nothing could be seen with the naked eye.
He pushed his Haki further—
And finally, he found it.
A barren land formed entirely of sand. The air was dry and suffocating. Sandstorms raged, and far deeper inland—
Gunshots and cannon blasts rang out. Shouts and screams echoed across the desert.
At the edge of the battlefield, he saw it clearly:
Countless soldiers wielding sabers, rifles, and cannons were locked in chaotic, merciless combat.
Blood soaked the earth. Bodies fell like rain.
"War… there's never a shortage of it."
Whiteflame retracted his Haki, uninterested.
These wars—fought over land, power, resources—were all too common. Whether between nations or internal factions, the result was always the same:
Bloodshed and devastation.
To Whiteflame, this level of warfare was meaningless.
He had only one goal:
Reach Sky Island, locate the Silent-Silent Fruit, and use it to execute his grand plan… one that would overturn the world during the coming Marineford War.
The Nine Dragons ship continued sailing swiftly.
Before long, they reached the desert nation locked in war.
"Big sis Baby-5, look down there! There's a war going on!"
Rebecca craned her neck as the sounds of battle reached their ears.
"Yeah, I heard it a while ago," Baby-5 said casually. "It's probably another civil war. Happens all the time. Nothing to worry about."
"War is just too cruel…"
Nami shook her head as she looked at the battlefield below.
"That's… Sir Crocodile of the Seven Warlords of the Sea."
"They say he's always been obsessed with Alabasta…"
"If I'm not mistaken, that place below us must be Alabasta itself…"
(To be continued…)
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