Aeridar spat disdainfully, tossing the Den Den Mushi into a pouch without a second glance—never mind Fleet Admiral Sengoku raging in his office on the other end of the line.
"Heehee~ Captain, you've got guts! Talking smack about the Marines to the Fleet Admiral himself? Aren't you worried he'll strip you of your Warlord of the Sea title on the spot?" Millie and Mina giggled, practically in sync.
"Tch. I took a hit from that bastard Gutte for the Marines, cut me so deep I thought my guts were spilling out. Bled like a pig," Aeridar muttered coldly, rubbing the wound on his chest. "If Sengoku really wants to pull my title and wreck my plans, then I swear I'll snatch a Celestial Dragon and drag him into the New World for a joyride."
"Hahahaha! Captain, you're insane! Even a Celestial Dragon? You're not afraid of anything!" Millie and Mina clutched their stomachs in laughter. They knew enough about the Celestial Dragons, having once spotted one while out shopping, and the memory was far from pleasant.
"Celestial Dragons? Just parasites in fancy clothes. The biggest pieces of trash this world's ever produced," Aeridar sneered, eyes flashing with contempt.
If the Marines and the World Government weren't shielding them, even with whatever trump cards their twenty founding kings left behind 800 years ago... they would've been hunted to extinction centuries ago.
"That said... they do have their uses," Aeridar mused, stroking his chin. "Say, offering one as a tribute to Her Highness the Pirate Empress might grease the wheels for an alliance among the Warlords of the Sea."
Year 1514 of the Sea Circle Calendar, 25th day, 1:00 PM – Grove 7.
The Bubbledance Tavern, sprawling across 300 square meters, was packed to the brim.
Pirates made up the majority, but there were plenty of other shady types in the mix too—bounty hunters, informants, even the odd government or Marine spy.
All eyes were on one goal: getting a spot on Chris T. Aeridar's crew. Of course, some came to gather intel... and some, for a fight.
"Ha! You bastard showed up too!"
"Takes one to know one, idiot!"
"Damn... I count at least ten pirates here with bounties over fifty million."
"Hey, ain't that Johnson the Corpse Collector? Guy's got a 90 million bounty! What's that scumbag doing here?"
"Wait wait wait, am I seeing this right? That man there... that's Bright Ward, the 'Paperman,' with a bounty of 230 million berries! Even he's come?"
The tavern buzzed with chatter, the air thick with tension. Some notorious pirates were immediately recognized; a few even ran into old enemies, but they stuck to barking insults. No one dared draw steel.
No one wanted to be made an example of by the Chris Pirates.
If Aeridar gave the word, half the tavern would turn on a dime and dogpile any troublemaker, too many were hungry for a spot under his flag.
But what truly kept the peace... was the man on the high platform.
He sat lazily, eyes half-closed, a sharp hawk-like nose and thin lips framed by a lean face. He wore a simple white coat left open to reveal his chest, where a long, vicious scar carved down his torso. Black tight-fit pants, sleek leather shoes, and in one hand, a bottle of rum.
Twin famed blades rested at his waist.
This was Oliver, once a 120-million beri man known as the Slayer. No one was about to cause trouble with him keeping watch.
"Man, the turnout's insane. Word's really gotten out," muttered Bright Ward from a shadowed corner of the room, white suit immaculate, his crisp white hat low over his eyes. In his hand, a sheet of paper twisted and folded into various intricate shapes as if on its own.
"Boss... why are we here? Are we really gonna throw in with Aeridar?" asked the bald brute beside him, clad in an all-black suit, frowning.
"We spent a year grinding through the New World... and the Navy still beat us back," Ward said quietly. At that, the paper in his hand snapped into a four-pointed shuriken. "That tells me one thing, we're not strong enough on our own. We need allies."
"Allies?!" The bald man in the black suit suddenly lit up in realization. "Ohh, so Boss wants to form an alliance with them."
"That's just my wishful thinking," Ward muttered, lowering the brim of his hat to shadow his face. "But if we could work together... I wouldn't mind."
Elsewhere in the tavern, in a corner booth dimly lit and quiet, several figures sat cloaked in long black coats and wide-brimmed hats pulled low to conceal their faces.
"Captain... was it really a good idea to come here?" one of them asked in a low voice.
"Yeah, Captain," another added, sounding anxious. "If we get spotted, we won't make it out clean."
"It's fine," replied the one seated in the middle. "I just wanted to see that man face-to-face. If we're lucky, we might even see him show off a little strength."
"Show off strength? Captain, are you saying there's going to be trouble?" asked the one sitting at the edge, clearly startled.
"This world is full of idiots who dream of reaching the summit without the power to climb it," the man in the center sneered with contempt. "Fools who can't see their own limits, just the futile thrashing of the weak."
Backstage, behind the tavern—
Laid back in a reclining chair, shirtless and wearing only black slacks, Aeridar lounged in total ease. Millie and Mina flanked him, one feeding him fruit, the other massaging his shoulders. He looked so blissfully relaxed it was as if he'd forgotten how to stand.
Tap tap tap tap... tap tap tap tap...
Footsteps approached, growing louder. Dressed in a pale blue suit, Arlan walked in. The moment he laid eyes on Aeridar's "dying-of-comfort" expression, his mouth twitched.
"Captain, come on. It's time. Are you just going to keep lying there?" Arlan asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated.
"Ugh, you're such a buzzkill," Aeridar grumbled as he reluctantly sat up. "Time really flies."
"Alright, alright, Captain," Millie said with a playful giggle, gently nudging him. "Take care of business first, tonight, we'll spoil you all you want." She leaned in and whispered something softly into his ear.
Aeridar's eyes glinted with a mysterious light. "Time to meet those bastards," he said, suddenly invigorated. "Who knows... they might just be future crewmates."
He grabbed the coat beside him, threw it on, and strode out.
"This guy, I swear..." Arlan muttered, his expression twitching again as he sighed and followed after him.
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