In the depths of darkness, flickering candlelight cast a dim glow throughout a hidden underground chamber.
The flames danced quietly, barely pushing back the shadows as they illuminated the wide and mysterious room.
The chamber was vast. Strange swirling cloud patterns were carved into the stone walls. Around the perimeter stood towering wine racks, stone statues of fierce beasts, and over a dozen weapon racks. Each rack held a weapon, golden, silver, or inlaid with dazzling gemstones, each piece crafted so exquisitely it straddled the line between deadly armament and art.
In the heart of the room, shadows stretched long beneath the flickering light. Five figures sat around a round black table, its polished sheen gleaming faintly, etched with a symbol of unknown meaning. The table was two meters wide, forged from some unknowable material.
Each of the five wore white robes embroidered with golden threads and a distinct beast-shaped mask—tiger, wolf, lion, eagle, and serpent. Silent sentinels, they gathered in muted tension.
"Two more pirate crews landed today," rumbled a voice from beneath the tiger mask, deep and resonant. "One brought eight ships, the other only one. But they seem closely connected."
"And the plan?" asked the man in the savage black wolf mask, turning toward him. "Does it still proceed?"
"It does. There's only one key. At most, they're just treasure-hunting pirates," answered the lion-masked figure, his voice like low thunder rolling through stone.
"No... they're not just ordinary pirates," the eagle-masked one said gravely, sweeping his gaze across the table. "The crew with eight ships is the Chris Pirates. Their captain is Chris T. Aeridar, known as the Golden Ring. He's the newest member of the Seven Warlords of the Sea."
That name sent a ripple through the room.
"You can't be serious. The Seven Warlords?" The man in the red snake mask shot to his feet, gloved hands slamming down on the table. "The Seven Warlords are Dracule Mihawk, Donquixote Doflamingo, Boa Hancock, Bartholomew Kuma, Jinbe the Sea Knight, Crocodile, and Gecko Moria! Who the hell is this Chris T. Aeridar?! You sure you didn't get something wrong?!"
"Yeah, there's no such guy among the Warlords," muttered the wolf, also clearly confused.
"Wait," said the one in the tiger mask. "Eagle... you said new Warlord. You mean one of the original seven was defeated?"
"That's right," Eagle replied calmly, passing a cool glance around the table. "And I handle intel. You know my words don't come cheap, or wrong."
"Sit down, Snake," Lion said firmly, straightening slightly. "If Eagle says it's true, then it is. So... who was defeated? And what do we know about this new Warlord?"
Reluctantly, the snake-masked man returned to his seat, still fuming.
"Chris T. Aeridar," Eagle began, pulling several documents from his cloak and handing them out. "A rookie pirate, touted as the strongest of the new generation. Not long ago, he defeated Gecko Moria in battle. Moria was taken into custody by the Marines but mysteriously disappeared during transport. In the aftermath, Aeridar was appointed to take his place among the Seven Warlords."
"No way... Moria lost? To a rookie?" Snake's voice cracked with disbelief. Were it not for the mask, his stunned expression would've said it all.
"Snake," came Tiger's slow, heavy voice, "you've fought the Warlords before. You never told us who beat you. Care to share more... now?"
Two years ago, Snake had ventured out to sea, only to return after a few short months, gravely wounded. He had said little, only that he'd lost to one of the Seven Warlords.
"...Hahh." Snake exhaled deeply, as though preparing to shed a buried truth. "Actually, I was defeated by—"
A thunderous crash cut him off. The massive steel door at the chamber's entrance was hurled inward, slamming into the floor with enough force to shake the entire room.
Dust exploded into the air, and the warped, bloodstained door clattered ominously across the floor, clearly torn open by something powerful and recent.
"We've been breached!"
All five figures leapt to their feet, eyes locked on the entrance.
This place was thirty meters underground, ten stories deep. Only one path led to the surface, guarded by at least twenty warriors capable of felling wild beasts with ease. Thirty more men stood sentinel above. And yet... not a sound of battle had reached them until now.
"So that's the rookie who took down Moria..." a voice said with a trace of relief. "Good thing we didn't provoke him earlier, would've been a real mess..."
Through the swirling smoke and dust stepped a tall, lean man with messy blond hair and a predator's grin. He wore black sandals, and one eye was visibly larger than the other, giving him a manic, lopsided glare. Sharp teeth glinted in the low light. He twirled a golden triangular pendant around his neck as he strolled into the room.
The name struck like lightning. All five stared in shock.
"You dare break in here?" Wolf snarled. "Are you declaring war on us?"
"War?" Vito let out a mirthless chuckle that swelled into a cold, hollow laugh. "Heh heh heh... hahaha..."
"The map's in your hands. The key's in ours. You are the ancient guardians of the treasure, hiding it away for centuries... and we, we are the ones come to take it."
A towering, broad-shouldered man with a wild mane of golden hair stepped up beside Vito, his tone soaked in scorn. "You think we don't know what you're planning? You've been waiting for the chance to wipe us out, haven't you? Guardians of the Gamas Kingdom."
The moment they had forced their way in, blades drawn and blood spilled, any hope of peace had already crumbled to ash.
"Fernal Rock... you knew?!"
The one known as Lion, concealed behind a lion-shaped mask, clenched his fists tight. His voice trembled with shock, and the unmistakable undercurrent of murderous intent.
"Heh heh heh... Just a hunch. But from the look on your face, I guess we were right," Vito sneered, lips curling back to reveal his sharp, beastlike teeth. "Enough stalling. Hand over the map. I'm done playing games."
"Well, Guardians of Gamas... answer me. Is the map hidden here?"
He had already spent over a year on this godforsaken island. Whatever patience he once had was long gone. Dozens of his men had died trying to solve the treasure's traps. If the enemy's map could guide them through... then all that remained was the hard work of digging it out.
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