"How is this possible?"
"Damn it, are they treasure hunters too?"
"Shit, nine pirate ships? They've got way more people than us!"
"Besides us, no outsiders have set foot here for over a year. How the hell did they find this place?"
A wave of panic rippled across the pirates gathered along the shoreline. Even at full strength, their crew barely numbered two hundred. Now nine ships had appeared, easily suggesting a force in the thousands.
"Quit panicking!" roared a tall, lanky man with blond hair and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. He bared them with a growl. "They might be rookie pirates, washed ashore because of the tsunami! What, are you scared of rookies now?"
His shout snapped the crew back to their senses. Both those on the beach and those aboard the ship quieted down under their captain's bark.
"Bolton! Can you make out their flag?" shouted a brawny man with disheveled golden hair, addressing the lookout on the ship's tower.
"Yes, First Mate," came the reply. "I see the flag clearly. But it's not familiar, doesn't belong to any well-known crew in the New World."
"Looks like a rookie fleet cobbled together," the blond captain muttered under his breath.
"What do we do, Captain?" the broad-shouldered first mate asked, turning toward him.
"Don't cause trouble, yet," the captain growled, eyes sharp beneath mismatched pupils, one large, one small. His jagged teeth gleamed. "Watch what they're here for. If they get in our way... we eliminate them."
This treasure hunt had already cost his crew dozens of lives and over a year of time. There was no way he'd let some upstart pirate crew ruin everything.
"Captain, up ahead, there's a small makeshift port. One pirate ship docked," said Dimitri, peering through a spyglass toward Alvis Island.
"Huh? Isn't that the Triangle Pirates?" exclaimed Galan, also scanning the shore with his own scope. "Weren't they missing for over a year? What are they doing here?"
Having survived in the New World for two years now, Galan was familiar with most crews of note, if not their deeds, then at least their flags.
Aeridar stood up from his reclined chair as Millie and Mina helped him into his coat. He asked lazily, "The Triangle Pirates? Are they famous?"
"They've got some name recognition," Galan replied. "Been sailing the New World for at least eight years. Their captain is Quiniel Vito, known as 'Fanged Devil,' bounty: 265 million berries. First mate, Fernal Rock, goes by 'Big Gun,' bounty: 180 million. Head of Combat is Muir Marcus, 'The Executioner,' with a bounty of 169 million. They've got five to eight senior officers, all over 50 million. Total crew probably under 200."
He handed Aeridar three bounty posters. "These are from two years ago."
"Old dogs of the New World, huh. Three guys over 100 million," Aeridar muttered after glancing at the posters before handing them back.
At their current strength, the Chris crew had little to fear from anyone short of an Emperor's fleet. Unless someone on the level of Donquixote Doflamingo came knocking, even the stronger New World crews couldn't take them down, maybe beat them, but not destroy them.
Back in this era, the threshold for being considered a major New World pirate was a bounty of 300 million, like Doflamingo or Gecko Moria before their respective rises.
"No matter. We've got nothing to fear from them," Aeridar said with a dismissive wave.
Before long, the fleet pulled into the Alvis Island harbor. The dock was crude, entirely wood-built, but surprisingly spacious. Nine large ships had no trouble entering and mooring.
Other than the Triangle Pirates' massive 100-meter-long vessel, there were only a dozen or so small fishing boats and one aging passenger ship of about 50 meters.
Locals gathered along the shore, watching the approaching fleet with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. It had been years since they'd seen so many ships in one place.
"They're... not scared of us?" said Arlan, stepping off the ship and raising an eyebrow. The townsfolk were just standing there, watching with mild interest—no panic, no fleeing.
"Probably because they're used to seeing pirates," Galan suggested. "If enough have come through here chasing treasure, they might've gotten numb to it."
Aeridar, sensing the area with his Observation Haki, narrowed his eyes.
"These people... they're not ordinary."
Though dressed as common townsfolk, their auras told a different story—strong, controlled, disciplined. They weren't just unafraid. They were prepared.
With a bottle in hand, Oliver lazily strolled down the gangplank. He gave a passing glance toward the rival ship.
"Captain. They're watching us."
Aeridar turned to look. Sure enough, from the deck of the Triangle Pirates' ship, a number of pirates were staring them down, stone-faced. Some were even taking notes.
"Let them. Don't waste time on them," Aeridar said, rolling his eyes. He waved a hand. "If anyone wants to check out the town, come with me."
With that, he strolled off toward the settlement.
Following behind were Millie, Mina, Oliver, Dimitri, Gorbo, Otto, and a weary Dalt, who had spent the morning buried in experiments. Together, they headed straight for town.
Aeridar and his companions pushed open the creaking door, stepping into a sea of noise. The tavern bustled with brawny men clinking mugs and slamming fists in boisterous drinking games.
With a single glance, Aeridar scanned the room, his gaze briefly locking onto a tall, lean blond man seated alone at the bar.
"Fanged Devil Quiniel Vito, huh..."
His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice no more than a whisper, before he turned his attention elsewhere. Just a glance was enough.
"Hey, new faces again."
"Heh, treasure hunters, maybe?"
"There's a woman with them, damn, she's a looker."
"You think they're pirates? Mercenaries? Wonder how long they'll stick around?"
Their arrival brought a momentary hush to the tavern, like a held breath. Then came the wave of murmurs, gossip rippling through the room, every word aimed at Aeridar's group.
The tavern's clientele weren't ordinary folk. Each man stood at least two meters tall, built like siege engines, muscles rippling under weatherworn clothes.
The air practically crackled with raw energy. No wonder they showed no fear toward Aeridar's crew.
Even Quiniel Vito, already here long before them, hadn't made a move against this town. Instead, the infamous rogue sat drinking quietly, biding his time.
Seems this place might be more interesting than it looks.
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