After two days of resting at Baratie, nothing had truly settled.
Zeff and Sanji were still arguing, their voices echoing through the kitchen like an endless storm. Pride clashed with pride, dreams grinding against stubbornness, neither of them willing to give way. It had become such a constant noise that the rest of the restaurant almost treated it like background music.
Meanwhile, Luffy, Usopp, Jonny, Yosaku, and Zoro were doing exactly what they did best—chilling.
They ate until their stomachs hurt, drank until the day blurred into evening, and laughed without a care in the world. For them, Baratie felt like a temporary paradise.
But something was off.
The sea around Baratie had grown unnaturally busy.
More ships arrived than usual—far more. Merchant vessels, wandering crews, suspicious-looking boats that lingered too long before docking. The number kept increasing with each passing hour, until the waters around Baratie looked crowded, restless.
The reason was obvious.
The rumor.
A goddess descending upon Baratie.
A being who dined with mortals.
A miracle that revealed a legend before countless eyes.
The story spread like wildfire, racing through the East Blue faster than common sense could stop it. Each retelling grew more exaggerated, more dangerous. Some spoke with awe. Others with greed. And some… with desire that had nothing holy about it.
Even the Marines were intrigued.
Warships began to appear on the horizon, their presence heavy and watchful. Officers questioned diners, sailors, cooks—anyone who might have seen her. But after two full days of searching, there was no goddess, no miracle, no proof.
Only rumors.
Only whispers.
And that made the situation even more dangerous.
Nami noticed it immediately.
From the deck of the Merry, she watched the ships come and go—circling like flies, too curious, too patient. Some crews stared at Baratie far longer than necessary. Others whispered among themselves, eyes sharp, calculating.
Nami's instincts screamed.
Not all humans reacted the same way to beauty.
Not all curiosity was harmless.
So she made a decision.
For Cry's safety, she ordered her to stay aboard the Merry, hidden from sight. As long as those ships kept coming, as long as the rumors continued to grow, Cry would not step foot outside.
Because Nami knew one simple truth:
If even a fraction of those people realized the goddess from the rumors was real—
then Baratie wouldn't be a restaurant anymore.
It would become a battlefield.
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..
..
..
Another day passed—but this time, something felt wrong.
The first to notice it was Cry.
She lay quietly in her room aboard the Merry, wrapped in stillness, her breathing slow and even. Then—
her beautiful eyes slowly opened.
It wasn't fear she felt.
It was hunger—not her own.
Greed. Death. Desperation.
A sensation drifting across the sea like a rotten tide.
Not aimed at her… but approaching.
It felt like countless eyes begging, clawing, wanting—mixed with the heavy stench of violence. A presence born from men who had been stripped down to their worst instincts.
Cry stared at nothing for a moment, her crystal-blue irises faintly shimmering.
Then, without concern, she closed her eyes again.
And returned to peaceful sleep.
..
..
Outside Baratie, chaos erupted.
"HEY—LOOK OUT THERE!"
A shout rang across the deck.
Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Plates clattered.
On the horizon, cutting through the mist, was the silhouette of a massive ship—far larger than most vessels that dared approach Baratie.
At first, curiosity filled the air.
Then dread followed.
The ship was huge, but not magnificent.
It was broken.
Its hull was scarred and cracked, patched together with mismatched planks and metal plates. Burn marks stained the wood like old wounds. The sails were torn and hanging loosely, fluttering like tattered flags of defeat. Cannons lined its sides, but many were rusted, crooked, or damaged—as if the ship itself had barely survived a war.
It looked less like a pirate ship…
…and more like a floating corpse refusing to sink.
As it drew closer, someone spotted the flag.
A skull insignia—armored, menacing.
The moment recognition hit, panic exploded.
"H-HEY—THAT FLAG—!!" "No way…" "RUN—!" "IT'S THEM—!"
The docks erupted in screams.
"It's the KRIEG PIRATES!!"
Fear spread instantly.
The Krieg Pirates were infamous across the East Blue—a ruthless armada led by a man who believed only in overwhelming force. Their captain, Don Krieg, was known as the Man of a Thousand Weapons, a walking arsenal clad in golden armor, using trickery, brute strength, and sheer numbers to crush his enemies.
His bounty alone told the story:
Don Krieg — 17,000,000 Berries
One of the highest in the East Blue.
His crew numbered in the hundreds, pirates who followed him not out of loyalty, but fear. They pillaged, destroyed, and left nothing behind but wreckage. Wherever the Krieg Pirates passed, the sea remembered it.
And now—
That ruined, starving, war-torn fleet was heading straight for Baratie.
People froze in terror.
No one knew why they had come.
No one knew what they wanted.
But one thing was certain—
Trouble had finally arrived.
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To be continued