Chapter Two

—1—

Deep-sea currents—the water that hits the Red Line and sinks down to the seafloor is said to take a whole two thousand years to reach the depths and surface again. Monsters, curses, souls of the dead—the sea is greater than the life span of a human being, country, tradition, or any other artifact of human civilization. It’s an object of fear and awe.

Once through the seafloor cavern near Fish-Man Island, you’re on to the second half of the world.

From there, you grab the rising currents to take you upward, from the abyssal depths to where the light trickles down. Above a depth of a thousand meters, the near-freezing water undergoes a dramatic transformation. Once in the sea layers where temperature rises and light penetrates, when the sailors see the direct light of the sun through the sudsy layer of the ship’s coating, they realize that they’re about to be freed from the ever-present cage of silent, deadly water pressure. With that rush comes the sense of what drove them to adventure on the sea in the first place: a yearning for and fear of the unknown, combined in an irresistible and indescribable exhilaration.

That is the light that leads to the New World.

And the majority of the pirates who survive the 70 percent failure rate of the Fish-Man Island trip find themselves shouting something else shortly after they reach the New World:

“I don’t want to die! Let’s go back to Paradise!”

A Jolly Roger consisting of a flaming skull with goggles, over a spade symbol.

The Piece of Spadille had made the trip up from ten thousand meters under the sea, through the base of the Red Line.

“I wanna eat seaweed brûlée, seaweed tarts, seaweed soufflé…”

“Are you guys men or not?”

Ace was annoyed at how nostalgic the crew members were for the frilly, girly Mermaid Café, as a pungent stew of deep-sea fish bubbled before them.

“You don’t know, Captain Ace, you weren’t there! The singing voices of the mermaids, the delicate flavors…”

“Take a hint from Kotatsu.”

“Grrr…meow?”

Kotatsu had been given one of the deep-sea fish heads and he was crunching down on it, bones and all.

“Whose flame do you think is cooking this stew, anyway?”

“It’s all thanks to you of course, Captain. We’re sorry, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”

A huge cast-iron pot was bubbling away in the middle of the Piece of Spadille’s mess hall.

Firewood was a valuable resource on a ship, and also a potential fire hazard, so you had to be very careful with it—on a normal ship. The Spade Pirates, naturally, were different. Having a captain with the Flame-Flame Fruit helped in that regard. He could simply adjust the fire to the strength that was needed to help cook.

“I don’t care if it looks like cat food, it’s a blessing just to get a hot meal while you’re out at sea…”

“That’s not a compliment, Ace.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said to Banshee. She clanged two ladles together menacingly, and the crew all went back to poking at their stew, murmuring insincerely about how delicious it was.

“About our earlier topic, Ace,” Deuce muttered under his breath.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“I was asking if you were serious about meeting with him to…”

But Deuce couldn’t even finish his sentence before the lookout burst into the mess hall.

“Captain! Enemy ships!”

“Awright!” Ace shot to his feet as if he’d been hoping this would happen. The others blew on their bowls of stew and began shoveling it in, making sure they didn’t miss out on a meal.

“Listen up, boys! Forget about the underlings. Look for the real prize…a cook to recruit to our crew!”

“Yeah!” cheered the Spade Pirates.

On the horizon, lightning was raining down on a distant island.

It was still midday, but the area was choked with dark clouds. Even on the Grand Line, the New World was above and beyond the norm. Volcanic rocks fell from the sky. Hurricanes, with several times their usual energy, were utterly destructive. Simply sailing a ship here was taking your life into your own hands.

“Give us a break…we’re just trying to get out of here!” sobbed a man wearing a captain’s hat, slumped on the ground before Ace.

“And you didn’t bother to check our pirate flag first? Did you realize you were attacking the Spade Pirates?” Deuce asked in the captain’s stead.

“We didn’t know! We just wanted to take your ship.”

“They got nothin’, Captain Ace!” said Skull, returning to the deck. “Their hold’s empty.”

“Not surprised. What’s with the pirate ships in the New World? They’re all cheapskates,” Ace grumbled. And it didn’t look like he was getting his cook.

“This ship’s falling apart. It’s a wonder it’s still floating. We can’t even dismantle it for anything more than scrap wood.”

It was the third time the Spade Pirates had been attacked since entering the New World, but for some reason, all of their enemies were in tatters before the fight even started.

“We were just trying to take your ship to escape! We want to go back to Paradise! C’mon, do us a solid!”

All of them wanted to return to Paradise—back to the first half of the Grand Line, where they’d enjoyed reasonable prestige as pirates.

“Fine, fine. I’ve heard enough from you gentlemen. I’ve got no more use for you.” Ace made a gun gesture with his fingers.

“H-hey, pal, what do ya say? We could be your underlings. Let us ride on your ship. And take my advice…turn back now! Trust me, you’ll want to—”

Fwum.

A ball of fire shot from Ace’s extended fingertip. It burst through the enemy flag and burned it to a crisp in seconds. “Sorry, I’m not interested in your flag,” he said, and gave his crew the order to withdraw.

“This is normal on the seas of the New World, apparently,” muttered Deuce. “The strongest rule, the ruled survive, and the weak who resist lose everything and have to flee.”

“Sounds neat.”

“To go back to what we were talking about earlier, are you serious about going to meet the Four Emperors, Ace?”

“Have I ever joked about something like that?”

“It…it’s too soon! I mean, speaking of Red-Haired Shanks…”

Red-Haired Shanks’s name was practically synonymous with the Great Age of Piracy. People spoke of his days of duels with Hawk-Eyes Mihawk, the greatest swordsman in the world. Even though he was missing an arm, he was considered one of the Four Emperors, alongside Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate, Charlotte “Big Mom” Linlin, and “King of the Beasts” Kaido.

“The government sources say the following about him…”

If you make Red-Hair angry, he’s frightening.

On that note, if you broke the laws of proper courtesy, Whitebeard was frightening. If you fouled Big Mom’s mood, she was frightening. Kaido’s existence all on its own was frightening. But there was no saying who exactly was vouching for all of this information.

“I’ve heard rumors that Red-Hair was actually on the Pirate King’s crew…”

At the time, Whitebeard and Big Mom were already powerful pirates, with Red-Hair and Kaido in the generation coming up after them. Shanks was a sailor on Gold Roger’s ship, the Oro Jackson, where he served under the King of the Pirates directly.

“There’s a story,” said Ace, “going back to just before Red-Hair lost his arm in the East Blue…”

A younger Shanks spent some time based near a little village in that distant sea. One day, there was some trouble at the bar with a mountain bandit. The bandit leader mocked him, saying pirates were scum, and dumped his bottle over Red-Hair’s head.

“What do you suppose he did, Deuce?”

“I’d bet that bandit is no longer alive.”

“You’d be wrong. Red-Hair just laughed it off, and apologized for the trouble.”

“Are you serious?”

But that wasn’t the end of the trouble. A boy from the village whom Shanks had befriended got kidnapped by the bandits. The kid wanted to be a pirate more than anything, and seeing pirates look weak made him furious, so he went to pick a fight with the bandits.

When they heard that the bandits had kidnapped the kid and hurt him, Red-Hair and his crew went and crushed the bandits. He said to them, You can pour drinks on me, throw food at me, even spit on me, and I’ll just laugh that stuff off. But whether there’s good reason or not, nobody hurts a friend of mine.

“Where’d you get this story, Boss? Even I have never heard this one.”

“Have you…met Red-Hair before, Ace?”

Deuce was from the East Blue, and that was where he’d met Ace.

But that wasn’t all. Ace’s father was none other than the King of the Pirates, Gold Roger—but Deuce was about the only person on the crew who knew that. If Red-Hair was indeed a member of that legendary crew, then Ace would represent a link to Shanks’s old captain, in fact.

“Nope,” said Ace, shaking his head. “I’ve never met him, but I want to. I’m not interested in the Pirate King. This guy grew up in the Great Age of Piracy with a front-row seat to history, and clawed his way up to becoming one of the Four Emperors. I wanna know what drove Red-Hair to do this.”

Maybe he could figure something out. Something that would put the Spade Pirates’ flag over Fish-Man Island, that place where all pirates and sailors passed through.

“I know you don’t just say these things without thinking, but we’re talking about an Emperor of the Sea. It’s almost impossible to meet these people face-to-face.”

Everything was different with the pirates of the New World.

First off, the scale was different. In Whitebeard’s case, Edward Newgate was a father figure to over ten commanders who served directly under him, along with their crew members. That alone was a huge force of over a thousand combatants, but in addition to that were dozens of affiliated pirate crews with a total manpower in the tens of thousands, and vast territorial holdings. The pirating business they maintained in that territory maintained the monumental pirate fleet.

From legitimate avenues like trade, port workers, and vendors of food and drink, to casinos, gambling, and show business, security of all kinds, weapons smuggling, even mercenary dispatches to distant wars—every kind of economic activity within the Emperor’s waters was closely related to the funds of the pirate in charge. Just the protection racket of having an Emperor’s flag over your territory could cost in the hundreds of millions, if not more.

The first thing any new pirate did when they got to this stretch of sea was to pay their respects to one of the Four Emperors. After this one could join their operation and be safe—usually.

“Ace, we’re not flying any of the Four Emperors’ flags right now. Whatever your intentions are here, once they come after us, there’s nothing we can do to survive.”

“Did you figure out where Red-Hair is, Skull?”

“Ace, are you listening to me?”

“Oh, I know where Red-Haired Shanks is,” piped up the enemy pirate captain.

“Eh?”

“Red-Hair’s harder to pin down than the other Emperors. Lately there have been rumors that he’s based out of a certain island…”

The captain then dropped the name of the place.

“You’d better not be playing games with us.”

“Hang on, Master Deu. That winter island was among the names in my intel,” claimed Skull.

“Go on, then. Go there and get yourselves killed! Red-Hair’s not the kind of man who cares much about others. He’s kind to his friends and merciless to strangers. He’s not going to give a lick of attention to a snot-nosed punk of a rookie with no manners like you! Aha ha ha ha!”

The defeated captain’s words hung in the air like a menacing curse.

—2—

The islands of the Grand Line each correspond to spring, summer, fall, and winter, and each type has four seasons, meaning that there are technically sixteen seasons in all. Summer on a summer island is the hottest, and winter on a winter island is the coldest. Spring on a spring island has the greatest blooming of life, and fall on a fall island boasts the most brilliant colors of all. The Red Line is, in fact, just a great amalgamation of all of these seasonal islands. The season will change depending on which island you visit, regardless of latitude.

Flying over the cave on this winter island was the Jolly Roger of a skull with three slashes—the symbol of the Red-Haired Pirates.

“It’s a warm one today.”

“Sleet outside. That’s rare.”

If it was warm enough to melt the snow falling on this winter island, the day was warm, indeed. The red-haired captain was the one who made the observation, and it was his first mate, Benn Beckman, who answered about the sleet.

“Days like this are usually when bad stuff happens… Munch, gulp.”

“C’mon, don’t start talkin’ like that. You’re usually right on the money about these hunches,” said a man with dreadlocks, responding to the round-faced Lucky Roux, who chomped down on a huge hunk of meat on the bone like it was a little snack.

People often imagined the Four Emperors living in palatial estates with every possible luxury at their disposal. Some were like that, of course. Charlotte Linlin, the leader of the Big Mom Pirates, was a crafty old pirate whose family consisted of forty-three husbands, forty-six sons, and thirty-nine daughters. All hundred-and-twenty-nine of them and their spouses ruled over a stretch of sea called Totto Land, and Big Mom herself lived on Whole Cake Island with all the sweets she could ever want to eat.

But Shanks traveled on a diminutive dragon-headed ship called the Red Force with a small, elite crew, moving from place to place.

It was time to prepare for the evening meal. When the pirate feast was starting, with the serving of food they’d procured in the day’s hunt, things suddenly got much noisier outside the cave. The fire that the crew was sitting around abruptly blazed much higher, as though they’d stoked the logs.

“Well, well. Sorry for interrupting your party. I was lured here by a delicious smell.”

It was a young man. He wore a cape around his shoulders and shorts around his waist. Could he really have come all the way to the cave in the midst of so much snow? And somehow, there wasn’t a single flake of snow on his body.

“Were you the one making all that noise?”

The Red-Haired officers all remained seated, as though they had already known someone was coming.

I know that guy. He’s Fire Fist…the one who spurned the Seven Warlords.

“Sorry, Chief… He just showed up and said he wanted to pay his respects,” said their lookout, a new guy, as he rushed into the cave a few moments later.

“Pay respects…to me?” Shanks fed another log into the fire.

It flickered momentarily—then returned to its previous strength.

Haki.

It was a threat. But the young man took it head-on. He wasn’t so weak that this would be enough to knock him over.

“No, I don’t mean it that way!” said the young man, Fire Fist Ace. “It’s just an introduction. Pardon me, sir, I just want to introduce myself. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” said Ace all of a sudden. He extended his hand, palm upward, in a sign of respect.

Shanks tilted his head in confusion at this unexpected act. He looked to his other officers. They were either frowning, or laughing, or watching with entertained looks on their faces.

“In that case…I return your greeting,” said Shanks. He, too, extended an upward palm. This was a formal exchange in the underworld, an indication that each side would remain humble toward the other, without trickery.

It was part of the old ways, the pirate code derived from the traditions of gamblers and yakuza and the like. But it was very old-fashioned, indeed. You didn’t see many observe these formalities anymore.

“I am…uhh…I am of birth of Baterilla, South Blue. I was raised in the East Blue. My name is Ace. Though I am newly started on this path in life, I am known as Fire Fist by the world at large. My humble bounty is…uh…how much is it, again?”

“The hell should I know?”

“This guy can barely get his words out straight,” teased the others around the fire.

“For I am such a simple country boy, I may have committed some errors of the tongue. I pleadificate for your generous forgivication… All right, boys, time to introduce the man of the hour.”

“Are you talking to your crew? Where are they?” Benn Beckman asked.

Ace spun around. There were no other members of the Spade Pirates with him.

“Oh…right. It’s just me. I didn’t want to bother you with the whole gang,” he said.

“You got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

“So what’s this little show all about, huh?” asked Shanks, looking at Ace with the little smirk he so often wore. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. Any uninvited guest who caused trouble here was likely to get himself sliced in two.

Ace thought it over, then scratched his head, deciding that it wasn’t going to work after all. “Dangit. I practiced it exactly the way Makino showed me. I’m just not that good at this stuff.”

“Makino?” The officers and Shanks wore puzzled looks.

Ace reached for his bag and pulled something out.

“A bottle?”

“This is a fine libation from the East Blue, where I grew up. Makino told me that this is how pirates offer a proper greeting.”

Shanks reached out and accepted the large jug of alcohol from Ace. He pulled out the cork and took a whiff.

“Ahh, that’s a familiar scent! Brings back memories of distant grog!”

The pirates excitedly began to pass around the jugs and take swigs from it. The fact that they drank seemed to be a sign that they weren’t going to slice him up right away, at least.

“Did you know that I spent some time in the East Blue years ago?”

“Yes, I heard. I lived near Windmill Village. Do you know Mt. Corvo? I was raised by some bandits who lived there.”

“Windmill Village? Well, that takes me back. How’s the mayor doing? So this booze is from Makino, eh?”

“No, actually. I bought it from a liquor store in Roguetown before I got into the Grand Line.”

“So I just did all that reminiscing for nothing?”

“Well, I did get some from Makino when I first set sail. But then I shipwrecked and washed up on a deserted island. You know, stuff happens.”

“You mean stuff that’s so stereotypical for rookie pirates that it never actually happens?” snapped one of the crewmates.

“I’m getting embarrassed for him just listening to this,” joked another, recalling his own youth.

“Well, if Makino’s doing well, that’s all that matters.”

“I bet she’s grown into a fine woman by now, eh, Captain?”

“I’d like to see that.”

The Red-Haired Pirates began to discuss their fond memories of Windmill Village among themselves, so Ace continued, “Anyway…my little brother says you saved his life, and all he does is talk about you, so I wanted to meet you and give my thanks.”

“Brother?”

“His name’s Luffy.”

Everyone gave him a look that said, Why didn’t you tell us that first?!

“You’re Luffy’s?! So he had a brother?! Welcome, welcome! C’mon, sit down and tell me how he’s doing!”

Shanks clapped Ace on the shoulder and beckoned him to join the circle around the fire.

Time to party!

—3—

As the saying goes, “A night’s lodging and a meal are a favor to be owed.”

Once they’d observed the customary greeting, the underworld way of things was to welcome in a traveler with no place to stay.

“C’mon, all of you, don’t be shy! We’re having a party here!”

“Ooh, you’ve got a cat?”

“Go on, Kotatsu, show them your party trick. Jump through this fiery hoop!”

“Grrr…meowww.”

Two pirate crews met up in the cave on a winter island and carried on like old friends.

At first the Spade Pirates were intimidated by the presence of one of the Four Emperors, but once the booze started flowing, they loosened up and turned lively.

“So Luffy got left with a bunch of bandits, huh?” said Shanks, taking a swig of his gift of grog and reminiscing about years past.

“Old Garp said it was going to shape him up so he could join the Navy,” Ace explained. Luffy had been a snot-nosed little kid dropped on the doorstep of Dadan the bandit on Mt. Corvo one day. At that point he already had the Gum-Gum Fruit powers that made him able to turn to rubber.

“And he still had the straw hat?”

“Yes. It was more important to him than his own life.”

“How can something be more important than your life?”

“He said it was because he made a promise to you about it. He was keeping that straw hat for you, and would bring it back to you one day. Once he was King of the Pirates.”

They were talking about Ace’s little brother, Luffy, a boy who befriended the Red-Haired pirates in a village where they’d once stayed. According to the story, Shanks lost his arm in the act of saving Luffy when he fell into the sea.

“So Luffy’s the grandson of Garp the Hero?”

Whether he’d been aware of that fact or not, Shanks was bound to have an antagonistic history with Navy Vice Admiral Garp. Before the Great Era of Piracy began, the counteracting power against pirates like Roger were mighty Navy officers like Sengoku the Buddha—currently the Navy’s fleet admiral—and Vice Admiral Garp.

“We brothers made a pact. We each swore to go to sea when we turned seventeen.”

“And how old are you, Ace?” Shanks asked. Ace told him, and the pirate began to count on his fingers.

“That would make Luffy…uh…”

“He’s three years younger than me, so he’ll be leaving soon. He’ll catch up to me in no time.”

“That’d be nice,” said Shanks, giving Ace a gentle smile.

“You mentioned Roguetown. Did you see it when you were there?”

“See what?”

“The execution stand."

The place the King of the Pirates died…The place where the Age of Piracy began.

“It’s yours if you can find it. I left everything in the world there.”

The Great Age of Piracy—the great quest for the One Piece—began there, with the final words of Gold Roger before his execution.

And a young Shanks was there, in a corner of the town square in which the execution stand was built…

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, I saw it, of course. It’s a tourist spot. But, unlike Luffy, I don’t have any interest in the King of the Pirates,” Ace said. He wasn’t going to reveal the truth about his father here.

“Ahh.”

“Then why’d you go to sea, Portgaz D. Ace?” asked the first mate, Benn Beckman, who was nursing his drink sip by sip.

“I knew I would set sail at the age of seventeen,” he replied. “Beyond that…I dunno. Maybe I was hoping to figure it out while at sea. Oh, but, there is one thing I knew I was going to do for sure.”

“And that is?”

“I’m going to make sure my name is heard around the world.”

Shanks did not miss the flicker of dark flame deep in Ace’s eyes as he said those words.

Wealth. Power. And…

“Fame, huh?”

“To you and the rest of the world, Gold Roger might have been a legendary figure, but to me…he’s just a dead man. He’d already been executed by the time I was born.”

That was why he didn’t care about the man’s title.

“If not as the King of the Pirates, then how do you plan to make yourself known?” Shanks asked.

“The Emperors,” Ace said. “First I topple the Four Emperors.”

A discordant air settled over the celebration.

“Ha ha ha,” Shanks chuckled. That eased the troublesome tension, nipping it in the bud.

“Oh, er, I didn’t mean it in the sense that I’d come to take you out. You’ve shown me warm hospitality here, and you saved my brother’s life.”

“Glad to hear I’m off the hook. But Roger was my captain once. Did you know that? I figured that all the young folks these days wanted to be like the King of the Pirates. I guess that’s not necessarily the case. I tell ya, it sucks to get old.”

The times roil and change.

Just as Roger’s generation had given way to Shanks’s generation, someday these rookies would have their day—the same way that the waves—and time itself—flow ever onward.

“Sorry, I guess I made things awkward for the party.”

“Well, if you don’t mind indulging my curiosity, which of the Emperors are you going after? Kaido? Big Mom? It wouldn’t be—”

“Whitebeard.”

Red-Hair and his men stopped and stared at Ace.

Hey! He thinks he’s gonna take down Whitebeard!

Whitebeard the pirate, more fearsome than a demon…

I’d die a hundred times rather than attempt a stunt like that!

This was in no way worth the trouble it would precipitate. Parents everywhere invoked Whitebeard to scare their children into behaving. His name was synonymous with a natural disaster, like a storm, earthquake, or tsunami.

Shanks told the young man, “A long time ago, there were the Seven Warlords and such who tried to topple Whitebeard…but I thought all those fools were gone now. Why Whitebeard?”

“Well, who else was Roger’s rival but Whitebeard? Plus, Whitebeard’s flag flew over Fish-Man Island. As I came into the New World, he was the first one to stand in my way.”

“Wait, you mean…”

“I put my own flag over Fish-Man Island,” Ace said, a fire now glowing in his palm.

“You burned it?”

“I suppose so.”

Shanks was silent, but the smile never left his face. “Well, I suppose it’s not my business to interfere with that.”

It was a four-way standoff. Each of the Four Emperors had such great power that it was nearly impossible for any of them to destroy the others. If any of them actually won such a war, the victory would come at a very high price and leave them vulnerable to the remaining Emperors.

The world was a big place. But it wasn’t quite big enough to contain the endless greed, power, and rivalry of mankind.

“I’m relieved to hear that. So if I take out Whitebeard, you won’t consider it an act of aggression against you,” Ace said boldly. It was a bit of a test.

Whitebeard was the most senior of the Four Emperors, so based on Aces’s way of saying it, Shanks could have taken this as an insult against himself.

Was it right for me to have been born?

That was the question Ace asked himself, from the first moment he could think independently.

He was born the son of Roger, King of the Pirates. From the time of his birth, his father was considered the worst criminal in recorded history. His mother had died, he was left with bandits, and he lived like a scavenger, picking through heaps of trash.

He would never tell anyone about that in order to win their sympathy. That was why Ace did not reveal that he was Roger’s son, and did not ask the Pirate King’s former subordinate Shanks for protection based on that connection.

What reasons did he have to keep living? The only ones Ace ever opened his heart to, to justify his survival, were his foster brothers back on Mt. Corvo before he went out to sea, the boys he shared ritual cups with—Luffy and Sabo.

Sabo went to sea a bit earlier than Ace did. Unfortunately, he perished, the victim of a cruel and unfair world. His boat was sunk for the so-called crime of passing in front of a Celestial Dragon’s ship.

The Celestial Dragons were the world’s nobles, the most privileged class of society. They lived in the sacred capital city of Marijoa, where they looked down upon the lower classes and owned many slaves. Even the higher-up heads of the military and government, and some monarchs, essentially lived under the brutal thumb of the Celestial Dragons.

What did Ace think when he lost Sabo? He had many thoughts about this, but he kept them confined to the moment they occurred to him, and did not go back to dwell on them.

The enemy that killed Sabo is the opposite of freedom.

It was the world that killed Sabo. You can’t really live or die unless you’re executed and change history with your death, like Roger did.

So Ace chose to be a pirate.

Whether or not the world accepts me or hates me, I’ll be a great pirate. I’ll show them all.

That was the genesis of Ace’s desire to be a pirate.

He’d never met his father and felt nothing but hatred toward him. Ace grew up tormented about being the son of a terrible criminal, and in the end, the only way for him to move forward and live freely was to go beyond what his father did.

He wouldn’t be “Ace, son of Roger.” From that moment, it would be “Roger, father of Ace.” That was what he needed to turn the tables. And it wouldn’t happen if he just did the same things Roger did. It couldn’t just be about the One Piece and being King of the Pirates.

It could be anything. Anything to become famous and make Gold Roger a name of the past. Here in the New World, it would all be about Portgaz D. Ace. He was going to make sure everyone knew the name given to him by his mother, Rouge, who hid from the government and secretly gave birth to him after twenty months of gestation.

Through talking with Shanks, Ace felt these vague ideas that had been floating in his heart coalescing, and turning into a solid conviction.

Without revealing what was on his mind, Ace told Shanks, “The entire world is my enemy. Warlords, Emperors, even Celestial Dragons…I’ll topple them all. I’ll bring low everything that now sits high and mighty. And I’ll do it with this flame…with my name and my flag.”

To surpass the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, the starting point for Portgaz D. Ace will be to defeat Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate.

Shanks held his silence, listening to him speak. He was going to let the kid get it all out of his system.

What was reflected in Red-Hair’s eyes?

Vague, undirected dissatisfaction and frustration toward the world. An impatient, youthful tendency toward danger. These things were true of just about any rookie pirate making their name in the world.

But what was that dark ember glowing beneath his violent, attention-seeking flames?

“But that’s enough about me. I want to hear about you now.”

“Me?”

Now it was Ace who wanted to hear from Shanks.

“Yeah. For instance, about your flag. You’ve got the three scars on the skull. They stand for those, don’t they?” Ace said, glancing at Shanks’s left eye. There were three long scars running from his forehead, over his eye and down his cheek.

“These?”

“Luffy’s got a scar on his left cheek, but apparently he did that himself, like a little idiot, thinking it would earn him a spot on your pirate crew. But yours—yours clearly came from battle. Who did it? Who could put a wound like that on you?”

Indeed, who was capable of scarring Red-Haired Shanks, one of the four most powerful pirates in the world?

Shanks traced the scars with three fingers. “These…”

“I can’t imagine who’d be terrifying enough to land a blow like that on you.”

Stories about Red-Haired Shanks in battle often involved his duels with Mihawk, the world’s greatest swordsman. But this was not a typical sword wound. The three lines were parallel, as though he’d been clawed.

“It happened in the East Blue, before I lost my arm.”

“Boss?” piped up one of his men, uncertainly. It seemed it was uncommon for Shanks to talk about the scar.

“It was the Whitebeard Pirates who put this scar on me.”

“It was Whitebeard?!”

“No. It was just a pirate under his employ.”

So it was just a man, not even one of his division leaders…

“You’re not saying this just to scare me off from going after…”

“I don’t care if you think I’m lying,” Shanks said, this being one of the rare times that he would test Ace with his words.

If you want to take out Whitebeard, you’ll have to beat not just him, but everyone in his entire family.

“What’s he doing now?”

“Dunno. I haven’t felt this wound itch in a while…”

A log in the fire popped and crumbled. The party’s conviviality had passed, and the evening’s drink had run dry. Shanks gave a nod, and his followers began to clear the path to the cave’s exit.

The night was over.

Ace had made his antagonism toward the Whitebeard Pirates clear. Since they’d shared a customary rite of welcome, Shanks wasn’t going to harm the other pirate, but as one of the competing Four Emperors, Shanks couldn’t extend any special treatment to the Spade Pirates beyond what he’d already done.

After, he would send a message to Whitebeard. He would write: The pirate Portgaz D. Ace who is on his way to challenge you has no special connection to the Red-Haired Pirates.

That, too, was one of the customary ways.

A clash between Emperors was an event that would shake the New World to its core. The buds of conflict had to be nipped off before they could grow.

For Ace’s part, he’d received the courtesy of a night and a meal in the Red-Haired Pirates’ territory, so it was common courtesy to return the favor by leaving without making any trouble. But this meant that venturing next into Whitebeard’s stretch of sea could lead to a rain of blood…

The Piece of Spadille departed the winter island.

“From the moment he approached the shore, I could sense his Haki. It was like flame itself.”

“No wonder he could melt a winter island’s snow. Woulda been a blizzard if not for him,” said Benn Beckman, pulling up the collar of his coat.

“What did you see in him?” Shanks asked, seeking the wisdom of his first mate.

“Say he beats Whitebeard. What does he do after that? Based on the story he was telling, I can’t envision it,” said Benn Beckman.

The entire world was his enemy. He would destroy the world order that kept the Celestial Dragons on top. And that meant destroying the Four Emperors, too. That was all part of Ace’s grand vision.

“Didn’t seem very pirate-like.”

“He was awful courteous at first, but then he starts going on and on about himself. The kid’s more naive than he looks. Like he’s not really a pirate, but a gladiator. If he wants to destroy the world that bad, why didn’t he join the Revolutionaries?”

No interest in the King of the Pirates or adventure. No intention to hunt pirates as one of the Seven Warlords. No desire to be a Naval hero, protecting the common people. If anything, the most appropriate place for him seemed to be with the Revolutionary Army, that group of so-called terrorists seeking to overthrow the World Government.

“He’s limiting his choices, all by himself. The way he’s acting, the best he’ll ever be is the captain of a single ship.”

Benn Beckman didn’t see any potential beyond that in the young man named Ace.

If he had logs, he could start a fire. But a fire wouldn’t keep burning with just that. If he started a fire somewhere, set a mountain ablaze and burned down everything in sight, the fire would eventually burn itself out. What was Ace going to do beyond that?

“He said he was from the South Blue.”

Baterilla… Shanks ruminated on the name of that island.

“You curious about him?”

Shanks sat in silence.

“He’s a rookie who turned down the Seven Warlords, so I expected a lot, but he seemed like your average kid with an inflated opinion of himself. He ate a Logia fruit, and now he thinks he’s invincible,” said Benn Beckman with a sigh.

“But that rookie got recommended for the Seven Warlords.” That meant that the World Government—Sengoku and the Five Elders—saw something in Ace.

“That’s what bothers me. Does that make him Warlord material or not? With a Logia fruit alone, you’d only max out in the hundred-million range. And the bounty currently sitting on Portgaz D. Ace’s head is…”

Ace’s bounty had soared in value after he spurned the Five Elders’ offer to join that elite cadre of privateers. It indicated that he was dangerous, but this was simply too much. There must be some other circumstance. Was that why the World Government was trying to lock Ace down into just the Warlord title?

“‘He’d already been executed when I was born.’”

“What?”

“For playing like he didn’t care, he sure thought a lot about Captain Roger… He even called him Gol D. Roger at the end.”

That was a rare thing from a young person nowadays. A faint smile played over Shanks’s lips.

This was different from the silent grin he always wore. Benn Beckman felt like it had been ages since he saw his captain smile with actual emotion like this.