By afternoon, the Gigiriel had completely sailed beyond the waters of Kukos Island. The weather was clear and the winds were favorable—smooth sailing all the way.
"Hey~ Captain Jaron, I heard from Dimitri that your ship is a merchant vessel. You guys deal in things like fur coats, rare minerals, local specialties, that kind of stuff, right?" Aeridar stood on the deck, lugging his oversized bundle over his shoulder.
"That's right. Why? Looking to sell something?" Captain Jaron leaned lazily against the railing, casually glancing at the large hide-wrapped pack by Aeridar's side. He already knew Aeridar had gifted Dimitri a dagger crafted from the fang of a saber-toothed tiger, and he also knew that a bestial fang dagger from Kukos Island could fetch quite a price.
"Of course. If I want to travel to any populated island, I'll need money. And I'm broke—but I've got some goods." Aeridar, possessing Observation Haki, was fully aware that Captain Jaron had been eyeing his bundle, but he didn't mind. In fact, he directly opened it.
"I've got three full hides from beasts over eight meters in length, and five daggers and short blades made from beast fangs and bones." He pulled out a roughly 60-centimeter long short blade, its sheath wrapped in black animal hide, the blade itself a dusky green made from bone. He smiled and added, "This one's for you. Thanks for saving me. It's made from the scythe arm of a two-meter-tall Scythe Mantis. Razor sharp."
"Heh, well, I won't say no to that." Jaron had already been envious of Dimitri's saber-tooth dagger, but hadn't had the face to ask for one himself. Now, looking at the ruggedly crafted bone blade in Aeridar's hand, he was clearly delighted. Since it was a gift, he accepted it without hesitation. Drawing it from its sheath, he admired the bone's green sheen—roughly forged, but beautiful in its own wild way. "Nice blade."
"Ehehe, glad you like it." Aeridar beamed as he watched Jaron's eyes light up.
"Of course I do. Your beast hides and blades—these are top-grade. Durable enough to be worn as armor." Jaron inspected the blade briefly, then slid it into his belt. Picking up a pure-black pelt, he gave it a strong tug. Nodding in approval, he said, "Excellent quality. And since they're all from Kukos Island, I'll give you 200,000 Berries for the lot."
"That much? Thanks!" Aeridar was genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected such a high price and said cheerfully, "There are also some fang trinkets in here—consider them gifts for the crew. Thanks for looking after me."
"Haha, much appreciated. I'll pass them out to the boys." Jaron, standing nearly two meters tall, pulled out a fang bracelet and gave Aeridar a hearty slap on the shoulder.
Whistling, Aeridar made his way back to his room with his new earnings. Meanwhile, Jaron stood on deck, watching the young man's retreating figure. His hand rested fondly on the bone blade at his waist.
"Hah... what an interesting kid," he chuckled.
The sun was blazing, and by ten a.m., the heat was already strong enough to give an average person heatstroke.
"Hey, Dimitri... you got a dream?" Aeridar asked, nudging Dimitri as they lounged in a shady spot.
"A dream?" Dimitri blinked, caught off guard.
"Yeah. If you don't have a dream, how are you different from a dried-up salted fish?" Aeridar muttered, fanning himself. "Ugh, even the breeze is hot."
After thinking a moment, Dimitri answered seriously, "I want to be a navigator. A top-class one. My dad used to be a navigator—not a great one—but he always dreamed of becoming a real pro."
"A navigator, huh? Not bad." Aeridar smiled, then suddenly turned to face him, eyes bright. "Then, Dimitri—why don't you become the navigator on my ship?"
"Your... ship?" Dimitri looked stunned.
"Yup. I'll be of age in two years. Then I'll spend two more years building a ship and gathering a crew. On my twentieth birthday, I'll set sail—for the Grand Line." Aeridar stared out at the open sea, clenching his fists.
"W-Wait... you're setting out to sea? To the Grand Line?! That place is insane!" Dimitri jumped to his feet in shock. "Wait—are you saying... you want to be a pirate? You're chasing after Gol D. Roger's treasure, the One Piece?!"
"No. I'm not after the One Piece." Aeridar shook his head and gestured for Dimitri to sit back down. "I've got my own dream. So... will you come with me?"
"You'd really want me? I barely know anything about navigation..." Dimitri sat down again, voice full of doubt.
"Pfft—who cares? You've still got four years to learn." Aeridar wiped sweat from his brow, then stood up, waving as he walked away. "Think it over. Tell me when I disembark."
With that, he turned and headed up to his room on the second floor, leaving Dimitri deep in thought.
Just as Aeridar reached the stairs, an urgent horn blared from the lookout atop the mainmast.
"That's...!" Aeridar had never heard the ship's alarm before, but he could tell from the rapid blasts that something bad was happening.
"Pirates?! Is it pirates?!"
"Shit—are we under attack?!"
The sound of the alarm was like oil hitting an open flame—the Gigiriel exploded into chaos. Crew members dashed about: some rushed for weapons, others prepared cannons, and many scrambled up to the lookout posts.
The Gigiriel was a large merchant ship, roughly 150 meters from bow to stern, with two levels above deck and two below. With over 300 crew members aboard, the ship was heavily armed due to the surge in piracy triggered by the start of the Great Pirate Era, thanks to Gol D. Roger. Most crew carried weapons, and the ship was outfitted with rifles, cannons—everything needed to blow away small to mid-sized pirate crews.
"Don't panic!" Captain Jaron strode onto the deck, his voice loud and commanding. "First Mate—take fifty men and man the deck cannons! Blast those bastards to hell! Second Mate—take another fifty below deck, grab more weapons and ammo, and watch for hull breaches. Be careful! Third Mate—take fifty and prep for close combat. Do not let them board! The rest of you, grab your gear and get ready to fight!"
"Got it! I'll blast 'em all to hell!" roared the burly First Mate Helore, stripping the covers off the cannons and adjusting their aim.
"Understood. On it," said the usually quiet Second Mate Ayo, leading his team below with heavy footsteps.
"Leave it to me." The Third Mate, Malok, licked his dry lips as he hoisted a rocket launcher, a faint glint of bloodlust in his eyes.
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