The sun blazed in a cloudless sky, the sea stretching endlessly under its light. Seagulls and other birds soared overhead, occasionally swooping down to snatch up a glistening fish from the waves.
On the open ocean, a massive warship with black hull and white trim cut through the water—the Chris, flagship of the Chris Pirates.
Dozens of pearwood banquet tables had been set up across the deck, each one laden with an overwhelming spread of food and wine, rich aromas wafting through the air, mingling with the scent of the sea.
"Haha! Brothers! For our first meal as the Chris Pirates, I declare… the feast begins!"
Standing proudly on the figurehead—a snarling black wolf's head—was Chris T. Aeridar, his bare chest gleaming under the sun, draped in a black coat with white wave patterns. He held up an ivory goblet that shone like polished jade, his face alight with excitement as he looked down at the three hundred-strong crew assembled below.
The crew had long since shed their former mafia uniforms—black suits and leather shoes—and now each wore what suited them: some solemn, some sporty, others loose or flamboyant. The transformation made them look far more like pirates.
"Party time!"
"Haha, long live the captain!"
"Drink! Drink till we drop!"
"To the Grand Line! To our captain! Cheers!"
"Cheers!!"
And just like that, as Aeridar's voice fell, the deck erupted into wild celebration. Some climbed the railings and howled at the sea, some clinked mugs by the long tables, others danced with abandon on the deck—or even leapt onto the tables and belted out songs. It was sheer, joyful chaos.
"Hahahahaha! You idiots… hahaha!"
Aeridar roared with laughter, watching one poor guy get half-stripped by a laughing mob of crewmates, nearly forced to dance naked on the spot.
"Captain, cheers!"
Oliver jumped up beside him onto the wolf-head figurehead, lazily draping an arm around Aeridar's shoulders, raising a large wooden mug.
"You dumbass. Unless you're a beautiful woman, keep your damn hands off me."
Aeridar growled, baring his sharp teeth as he smacked Oliver's arm away—but still clinked mugs with him.
"Captain, is the Grand Line really crawling with strong people? Even with your monster-level strength, you still seem wary."
Oliver downed his drink in a single gulp, his playful tone vanishing into a serious, sharp edge.
He had always wondered about this. He knew just how terrifying their captain was—capable of leveling entire warships, even blowing apart small mountains. Aeridar was a monster among men.
Yet despite being ready to set sail a year ago, Aeridar had insisted on fully arming the Chris, training himself to the brink, and waiting until everything—everything—was absolutely perfect before heading out.
"Ah… the Grand Line…"
Gazing down at the reveling crew, Aeridar slowly turned and refilled his goblet, eyes drifting toward the distant sea.
"That's a world of monsters. Forget blowing up mountains—there are plenty who can wipe out islands. You ever heard of the Seven Warlords of the Sea?"
"The Warlords?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Those pirates backed by the World Government?"
"That's right. Seven pirate lords, each one powerful enough to seize both freedom and status. Every single one has the kind of destructive power that rivals a natural disaster—and combat strength on par with entire nations," Aeridar replied, taking a slow sip of wine.
Hisss~
Oliver couldn't help but suck in a breath through his teeth.
Disaster-level destruction… equal to a nation's might?
Unbelievable. Oliver had always been confident in his strength—especially since he'd awakened to the Breath of All Things two years ago after a harsh reminder from Aeridar. His power had grown tremendously.
But facing an entire nation? He couldn't imagine doing that alone.
What even was "disaster-level" destruction?
He wasn't sure. But if anything came close, it was Aeridar's full-powered assault—an awe-inspiring force Oliver had only ever looked up to.
"But don't forget—the Navy, one of the three great powers alongside the Warlords, isn't any weaker. They can suppress the Warlords if they want to. And the Navy's just one of the World Government's enforcement branches."
Aeridar downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and shot Oliver a glance.
"…The world's a bigger place than I thought," Oliver muttered, his expression shifting. But even so, his hand rested on the hilt of his blade. In his eyes burned excitement, battle hunger—mad anticipation.
Thud.
Aeridar suddenly dropped his ivory goblet to the deck.
"…We've got uninvited guests. Looks like we'll be adding to the dinner menu."
He stood up, ignoring the look on Oliver's face, eyes narrowing as he stared at the sea.
"…What?" Oliver blinked, confused. "There's nothing there—"
Whooosh!
The ocean, once calm, suddenly surged. Waves rose one after another as a massive dark shadow burst from beneath the surface.
"Holy crap—what the hell?!"
"What's going on?!"
"It's huge!"
"What is that?!"
"S-Sea King!"
"You've gotta be kidding—that thing's enormous!"
"No way! We just set sail today!"
"Captain! Save us!"
Panic gripped the crew as the once-stable Chris rocked violently in the waves. The frenzied celebration ended in chaos—people tripping over tables, tumbling to the floor, screaming and scrambling for balance.
And then they saw it.
A towering monster, dozens of meters tall, loomed before the ship.
Its massive, serpent-like body—coated in deep blue scales spotted with black—rose from the ocean, over fifty meters visible above water. The creature opened its gaping maw wide, aiming to bite down on the Chris. Rows of fangs glistened like daggers.
Aeridar had no interest in testing the ship's resilience using that thing's teeth.
"You cowards! Shut up! I'm not dead yet!"
Furious, Aeridar roared down at the crew.
"It's just a Sea King! What the hell are you screaming for?!"
The second he yelled, the chaos ceased. Everyone froze. The captain was mad.
"First time seeing one that big," muttered Arlan, adjusting his blue suit with surprise.
"Damn oversized lizard ruined my party," grumbled Gorbo, still dressed in black.
"Captain, let me cut that bastard down," Oliver snapped, reaching for his sword.
"I'll handle this."
Aeridar pressed a hand down on Oliver's half-drawn blade, locking eyes with the sea monster.
"…Let this mark the rise of my Jolly Roger."
Without another word, he leapt from the figurehead—stepping through the air as if it were solid ground, rushing toward the Sea King.
ROOOAAARRR—
The sea monster shrieked as the tiny human closed in, opening its maw wide to devour him midair.
"Armament Haki: Iron Fist—Mountain-Splitting Strike!"
Aeridar's arms turned jet black with Armament Haki, one hand a palm to steady, the other clenched tight in a fist.
BOOM—
The serpent exploded into gore, chunks raining from the sky in a crimson storm.
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