BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"Help! Someone help me!"
"No—no! Please, I'm begging you, spare me!"
"Bastards! I curse you all!!"
A certain stretch of sea was engulfed in deafening explosions. Seawater churned violently, thick smoke billowed into the air, and the ocean echoed with screams, desperate pleas, and curses.
Before long, the chaos subsided.
A massive three-masted warship, its figurehead shaped like a wolf's head, sailed steadily away, leaving behind a grisly scene: shattered wood and bloated corpses littered the bloodstained waters, with the wrecks of several burning ships slowly sinking into the depths, dark smoke curling into the sky.
The deck of the Chris was piled high with crates and barrels—some opened to reveal glittering gold and silver treasures, exotic fruits, hunks of beast meat, even whole giant fish—all spoils seized from the defeated pirate crews. The loot included everything from riches to food to weaponry and ammunition.
Sitting shirtless in a lounge chair, Oliver was wiping down his blood-soaked swords—Nagamitsu and Yubashiri—with slow, deliberate movements. His bloodstained shirt lay discarded to the side. He scowled and barked impatiently,
"Hey, Dimitri, how much longer till we reach that desert kingdom? It's only been a week, and we've already run into three pirate crews, each with over five hundred men."
"About another week," Dimitri replied without looking up. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, meticulously cleaning the dust and powder from the disassembled flintlock pistols spread out before him.
"Such a pain in the ass!" groaned Arlan, sprawling bloodstained across the deck, arms and legs spread wide.
It had been seven days since Aeridar and his crew left Little Garden. Since the Log Pose required an entire year to fully store Little Garden's magnetic field, Aeridar—unable to endure a full year marooned there—had ordered Dimitri to use a permanent pose pointing toward the desert kingdom of Alabasta. They had set sail on the third day, thus dashing Aeridar's hopes of visiting Drum Island to meet that adorable reindeer, Chopper.
Though the route to Alabasta passed through the general vicinity of Drum Island's waters, without a Log Pose to guide them, it was impossible to locate the island. Unless they got incredibly lucky, blindly stumbling upon it like a stray cat pouncing on a dying mouse, they'd never reach it—the Grand Line was simply too vast.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap—
A series of heavy footsteps echoed.
Aeridar came striding down from the ship's quarterdeck, his broad chest bare to the sun, with Millie and Mina trailing behind him. His voice thundered across the deck:
"Why the hell is all this crap still piled up on deck? Move it to the lower storage holds—NOW! And keep the first-level cannon deck manned at all times. Any ship that dares approach us—SINK THEM without hesitation!"
"Captain... he's really fired up," Backan whispered to Arlan, lying nearby. Well, he thought he was whispering—everyone else heard him loud and clear.
"You shut it, Backan! You think I can't hear you with that loud-ass voice?!" Aeridar shot him a glare so fierce that Backan flinched, scrambled to his feet, and bolted off to wash up.
"Captain," Millie said sweetly, clinging to Aeridar's arm without a hint of shame as her eyes roved over the half-naked men working the deck, "don't you think we're a little... short on manpower? Even third-rate pirate crews have over five hundred men."
Mina, casually twirling a flintlock pistol between her slender fingers, added with a sigh,
"Yeah, and fighting that many at once is getting real annoying."
"I know," Aeridar grumbled, scratching his head. "But I only want people who are actually strong—and preferably with a special skill or talent. What's the point of recruiting a bunch of cannon fodder? They'd just get wiped out the moment we ran into the Navy or another big-name crew. I'd rather have a few reliable people than a horde of deadweight."
Crew members bustled about the deck, steadily hauling the spoils below to the second-level storage hold. The Chris crew had just struck it rich.
By three in the afternoon, the deck was clear, save for the two rows of cannons lining the sides. Aeridar had set up a lounge chair and small round table at the ship's bow, sipping leisurely at his afternoon tea. The warm sun bathed him in drowsy comfort.
"Dimitri," Aeridar mumbled with his eyes closed, "wouldn't it be nice if the whole trip to Alabasta stayed this peaceful?"
Dimitri shot him a sidelong glance, full of disdain.
"Captain, you're dreaming. This is the Great Pirate Era. Every damn day, new pirates set sail. The whole world's crawling with them."
Aeridar cracked one eye open, clicked his tongue in annoyance, and said nothing more.
"C-Captain! There's... s-someone in the sky!!"
The sudden, terrified shout startled Aeridar so badly he sprang up from his lounge chair. Dimitri, sitting nearby, jolted upright as well.
Within moments, the entire crew came pouring onto the deck—Arlan, Oliver, and the rest, weapons drawn and ready for battle.
When Aeridar first heard the lookout's cry, he immediately thought of the legendary pirate Golden Lion Shiki. After all, the image of a man flying through the sky instantly brought Shiki to mind.
But when Aeridar turned and looked toward the rear skies—he realized he was wrong.
There, leaping effortlessly among the clouds, was a tall figure wearing pointed leather shoes, seemingly stepping on invisible platforms. Short blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, a pair of stylish sunglasses perched on his face. He wore a flamboyant pink feathered coat, a black suit with a red tie underneath, and white cropped pants adorned with orange flame patterns around the cuffs. A wide, wicked grin stretched across his face.
"Who... who the hell is that?!"
"He's flying through the sky!"
"That's not Geppo... is it a Devil Fruit power?"
The crew stared in shock. They'd seen Geppo techniques before—those allowed you to "walk" through the air—but this was different. This guy was literally soaring among the clouds with ease.
Aeridar's expression darkened.
"That guy... that's Heavenly Yaksha—Donquixote Doflamingo, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea!" he said, voice grim.
A deep unease gnawed at him as he muttered to himself,
"Didn't the papers say a few months ago that he became king of Dressrosa? What's he doing all the way out here? Looks like he just returned from one of the Blues..."
"The so-called 'Most Dangerous Man among the Seven Warlords'—that gangster scum?!" Dimitri exclaimed, his face turning pale as he stared up at the sky.
Arlan raised his spyglass, peering carefully at the airborne figure. A strange sense of familiarity gnawed at him.
"That guy... he looks really familiar. Where the hell have I seen him before...?"
In the One Piece timeline, Doflamingo seized the throne of Dressrosa in the Sea Circle Calendar year 1514. Aeridar's voyage began that same year, meaning this scene is set eight years before the main storyline, or ten years before the Dressrosa arc. And yes, Doflamingo's younger look was accurately described here: black suit or black shirt beneath the signature pink coat.
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