A heavy hand clapped down on Dimitri's shoulder.
Dimitri was nursing a drink, eyes glued to the pole-dancing woman flaunting her curves in the center of the tavern. His mind wandered a little—until he felt that hand land on him.
He turned his head to find a burly bald man looming over him. The guy's right hand still rested on his shoulder. Dimitri blinked in surprise—he didn't recognize this guy at all.
"What do you want?" he asked, frowning.
Aeridar and Arlan turned at the sound of Dimitri's voice. They saw that behind the three of them now stood a scrawny punk with a rooster-comb hairstyle, flanked by five hulking goons. Every one of them wore a wicked, leering grin.
"Heh... nothing much," said the bald man, flashing what he clearly thought was a friendly smile. "Just wanted to get acquainted."
The three exchanged a glance. They seemed to understand exactly what was happening—but they were pirates. The freest people on the seas.
"We don't know you. And we don't want to," Aeridar replied bluntly, curling his lip.
"Yeah, not interested," Dimitri added with equal disdain, brushing the bald guy's hand off his shoulder.
The bald man's face darkened. He hadn't expected this level of disrespect.
"These two guys... they look familiar. Where have I seen them before?" The rooster-haired thug squinted at Aeridar and Arlan's faces, something about them triggering a sense of déjà vu. But he couldn't place them. One thing was for sure—this was their first time here. No one walked into this place without knowing who his boss was... unless they were new pirates, or worse—big-name pirates.
A chill ran down the punk's spine as he stared at Aeridar's expressionless face. Something about him felt off... and dangerous.
"You've got a hell of an attitude," one of the other goons—round-faced and broad as a boulder—snapped, pointing his finger at Aeridar. "Let me teach you some manners!"
He raised his fist, about to throw a punch.
"Oi, seriously?" Arlan sneered. "Picking a fight, are we? Against a bunch of low-tier thugs?"
Aeridar's voice was cool and steady. "Before you swing that fist, think carefully. Raising it means you're challenging me. It means you're ready for war. Are you?" He fixed his gaze on the guy's outstretched finger. "Also... I hate being pointed at. If you want to keep that finger, take it back."
The air in the tavern instantly shifted. Tension crackled between the two sides.
"W–war?" The round-faced thug froze. He was used to brawling with rival gangs, sure—but this guy talked like he was about to start a war. That word stunned him.
"Maru, drop it," the bald man snapped, eyes narrowing as he restrained his underling. He wasn't stupid. War wasn't a word you tossed around lightly. Only someone with real authority—second-in-command or higher—could speak that boldly.
Just who were these men? Gangsters? Merchant enforcers? Or... pirates?
"Wait a minute... bald head, scorpion tattoo on his right arm, that thick gold chain around his neck... isn't he—?!"
"Yeah! That's Mang, one of the top three bosses in the Coastal District!"
"No way! That kid talked back to Mang and walked away from it?! He's got a death wish!"
"Wait, wait... look at how calm those three are. They're not scared at all. Are they pirates?"
The surrounding patrons, mostly regulars of the Frost Dance Tavern, fell quiet. Many were locals who immediately recognized the bald man. The rowdy chatter died down, replaced by hushed murmurs—backgrounded by the tavern's pulsing music.
Bald Scorpion Mang—one of the three crime lords of the Coastal District. Violent, but not reckless. Cunning, ruthless, and backed by a noble family from Central City. Rumor had it he was in bed with a pirate crew and controlled a fifth of the Coastal District with over a hundred men under his command. His favorite pastime? Extorting wealthy out-of-towners.
"Are you a pirate?" Mang suddenly asked. That line—Aeridar's warning—had struck a nerve. It echoed an infamous line from the Pirate King himself, Gol D. Roger.
Though the wording was different, the meaning was the same:
"The moment you draw your gun... you're picking a fight with me. You ready for war?"
Twenty-four years ago, Roger had said it to a fearsome pirate in the New World with a 200 million bounty. That pirate's reply? One bullet. The result? He and his seven allied pirate crews—nearly ten thousand men—were annihilated. It had rocked the world.
"B-Boss! They are pirates! I—I know who he is!" the rooster-haired punk stammered, drenched in sweat, teeth chattering as he tried to speak.
"Oh?" Arlan let out a knowing hum, glanced at the trembling thug, and turned to Aeridar. "Captain, looks like our bounty posters are finally out. We just haven't seen a News Coo yet."
Mang's heart skipped a beat. He's the captain?! And judging by the scrawny one's reaction... a big one, too.
But... there was no such young pirate in the East Blue, was there?
"Captain of the Chris Pirates—Golden Ring Chris T. Aeridar. B-Bounty: forty million Berries..." the rooster-haired thug quivered, pointing at the gold ring in Aeridar's ear.
Mang's face went white.
"First Mate of the Chris Pirates, Second Division Commander—Blue-Hair Gilbert Arlan. B-Bounty: twenty million..."
Mang's forehead beaded with sweat. His eyes jumped from the gold earring to Arlan's unmistakable blue hair. Even the first mate's here?!
His men were on the verge of panic. The round-faced thug looked like he was about to wet himself.
Forty million. Do they even understand what that means?
The previous highest bounty in the East Blue was barely twenty-three million. And this was their first bounty—already at forty million?! That alone proved just how dangerous this man was. Even his officers had starting bounties far higher than most East Blue pirates.
In these waters, a bounty over ten million earned you the title of great pirate. One of these guys could wipe out Mang's entire crew without breaking a sweat.
"Ohh~ forty million? That high?" Aeridar raised his brows, clearly surprised—but his ego was thoroughly gratified. He hadn't expected his first bounty to top even Luffy's from the original story. Forty million Berries!
He'd only guessed he'd get thirty million max. And even Arlan had been given twenty million. Aeridar suspected Oliver was probably wanted too—and likely not far behind.
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