Inside the meeting room of the Chris, Enrod and Galan sat across from one another. Steam curled from the tea set on the table before them, and serene landscape paintings, clearly the work of a master, adorned the wooden walls.
"So this is the ship they built back on Shiga Island, huh? No wonder they used top-grade timber everywhere... what a display of luxury," Galan murmured, lounging on the sofa as his eyes wandered across the polished floorboards, paneled walls, and the intricately carved ceiling.
At the mention of Shiga Island, Enrod's face darkened. Getting defeated in a single blow, that was a humiliation that still stung.
"But the Chris Pirates took a similar route to ours," Galan continued. "A semi-elite crew. Even the lowest-ranking members aboard this ship are far from weak."
Enrod nodded. He recalled the dozen or so crewmates left to man the Chris. Not a single one was beneath his own crew in strength.
There were a few typical pirate crew formations: full elite like Luffy's Straw Hat Pirates, few in number, but each one monstrously capable.
Then there were semi-elite crews, where even the rank and file outclassed standard Marine soldiers.
Lastly, there was the numbers game, pirates who recruited anyone strong enough to lift a sword, regardless of training or discipline. These mobs often lacked even the basic rigor a Marine foot soldier underwent.
Take, for instance, Krieg the "Admiral" from the early storyline. With only a 17 million bounty, he commanded over five thousand men and fifty ships. But they were little more than cannon fodder.
"Still... Aeridar-sama assembled a massive fleet at the Sabaody Archipelago," Galan mused, brows furrowed. "Including affiliated crews, he recruited thousands before even establishing a home base. It feels like he's gathering disposable troops, but I doubt a man like Aeridar would act without a plan."
Time trickled on, but neither Enrod nor Galan showed signs of impatience.
They knew full well that the Chris Pirates' core members had been invited as guests to Ryugu Palace by King Neptune of the Ryugu Kingdom and one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, Jinbe.
There was no chance they'd be back anytime soon.
Thump, thump, thump...
Thump, thump, thump...
A chorus of disorganized footsteps mixed with muffled voices echoed from beyond the meeting room.
Leading the group was a young man with a warm smile and gold earrings hanging from both ears. He wore a black coat patterned with white waves—elegant, striking.
Behind him were two others: one was a handsome blue-haired youth in a tailored blue suit, the other had a hooked nose and thin lips, his face perpetually lazy, a simple white coat draped over his shoulders and twin blades strapped at his hip.
The moment they stepped inside, Enrod and Galan stood up, faces etched with respectful admiration.
Every year saw the rise of new Supernovas, but that only marked potential, power still unproven.
To be named a Warlord of the Sea, to defeat or even kill a legendary pirate... that required more than talent. That demanded true power. And Chris T. Aeridar had more than proven himself.
"Hahaha! Long time no see! No need for formality, sit, sit!"
Aeridar laughed heartily as he waved them down, settling across from Enrod with ease.
"I heard you made it into the New World two years ago," Aeridar said with a knowing look. "So what brings you back to Fish-Man Island?"
As he studied them, Aeridar noticed they had aged; faces harder, eyes wearier. Scars marked their bodies now: Enrod bore a gash across his chest, and Galan only had one eye left. From the looks of it... life hadn't been kind.
Faced with his question, Enrod and Galan exchanged a look, both at a loss for words.
Realizing there was no hiding it, Galan let out a breath and began, "Alright... no point keeping secrets. We'll tell you the truth."
After being spared by Aeridar back on Shiga Island, they'd repaired their ship at the island's shipyard. Once seaworthy, they'd immediately set course for the Grand Line, spending over a month sailing before finally breaching its waters.
Even before setting foot in the New World, the Grand Line felt like a descent into hell.
With its insane, ever-shifting weather and monstrous Sea Kings lurking beneath every wave, Enrod and his crew had thought they'd seen the worst.
Even the Marines, usually feared across the seas, had to level up just to stay afloat there.
After surviving countless Navy pursuits and skirting death time and time again, they finally staggered their way to the Sabaody Archipelago.
By then, Enrod had already risen to the rank of Supernova, with a bounty of 120 million berries on his head, and a crew of over three hundred seasoned fighters under his command.
But the true nightmare hadn't even begun.
Once they entered the New World, the real hell revealed itself.
The balance of power was overwhelming.
Every worthwhile territory had already been carved up by major players. Even the uninhabited islands, those desolate dots on the map, were claimed by struggling pirate crews hoping to survive by any means.
There was no room for newcomers.
A year ago, after months of drifting, Enrod's crew formed a Grand Fleet alliance with several other pirate groups and seized a decently sized unclaimed island to use as a base.
But peace was short-lived. They faced constant raids and harassment from rival pirate fleets and factions vying for control.
Then, ten days ago, Enrod made a decision.
He and a few allied captains chose to shatter the stalemate by launching a full-force strike against a notorious enemy; a pirate captain they had personal history with.
Their goal: wipe him out and take his territory.
The resulting battle was brutal.
Their alliance, six pirate crews strong, numbering over 12,000 men, with several captains boasting bounties exceeding 100 million berries, stormed the enemy stronghold.
And they were obliterated.
Their foe, commanding a force of just three thousand, crushed them.
That man killed four of the nine high-bounty captains himself.
If Enrod and Galan hadn't retreated when they did, they might've died right there, assuming they weren't already mortally wounded.
"The 'Duke,' Garfield Caesar... That man's a straight-up monster," Galan muttered, his expression tight, a shiver flickering across his eyes.
Even Enrod, upon hearing that name, couldn't hide the tremble in his hand.
The name alone, Garfield Caesar, etched fear into their bones, carved deep by overwhelming defeat.
"Garfield Caesar, the 'Duke'?"
Arlan's tone dropped, fingers stroking his chin with deliberate thought.
"Can you tell me more about him?"
The Chris Pirates were preparing to enter the New World themselves. It made sense to gather intel on dominant players, especially a pirate with crushing power like that.
Aeridar had already laid out plans for a dedicated intelligence division once Phase Three of their plan was complete.
Their mission? To gather combat data on the world's most formidable warriors.
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