The air over the New World hung thick and cloying, heavy with the perverted sweetness of rot. Whole Cake Island, once a whimsical and terrifying kingdom of confectionery, was now a monument to gluttonous decay. Under the rule of Marshall D. Teach, the vibrant frosting had curdled, the candy-glass windows were shattered, and a shadow clung to the land that had nothing to do with the clouds.
Leading the charge against this corruption was a fleet that sliced through the dark waters like a promise of retribution. At its head, the magnificent, whale-shaped flagship, the Moby Dick, sailed with a renewed and ferocious purpose. Upon its iconic figurehead stood Gunnar, the new captain of the Bloodline Pirates.
His red and white hair, a stark banner of ice and fire, was whipped by the sea wind. Golden eyes, sharp as a hawk's, were fixed on the distant, twisted silhouette of the Whole Cake Chateau. In one massive hand, he held a large gourd of sake, taking a long, slow swallow. The liquid burned a pleasant trail down his throat. He wasn't a man for grand speeches before a battle. The battle was the speech.
"He took something that belonged to my family," Gunnar rumbled, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the deck. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, but the wind carried his words. "We're here to take it back. With interest." He crushed the empty gourd in his fist, the clay turning to dust. It was that simple. Blackbeard had humiliated the Charlotte family, captured most of them, and stolen Big Mom's very soul. Smoothie, his wife, was a Charlotte. Therefore, Blackbeard had made it personal.
Flanking the Moby Dick was the rest of the grand fleet, a testament to the power Gunnar now commanded.
---
On the port side, aboard a heavily reinforced vessel named The Phoenix Talon, the old guard stood watch. Marco, the 1st Division Commander, leaned against the rail, his expression calm and unreadable. He'd seen emperors rise and fall. This, however, felt different. Less a war for territory, more an act of extermination.
"He's quiet," Jozu, the hulking 3rd Division Commander, noted, his arms crossed over his diamond-hard chest. "Gunnar. Quieter than Pops ever was before a fight."
Vista, the elegant swordsman of the 5th Division, stroked one of his magnificent mustaches. "Oyaji would rally the world with his laughter and his conviction. Gunnar... he rallies us with the promise of a reckoning. The feeling is the same, even if the method is... sharper."
Marco nodded, his eyes drifting from Gunnar on the distant flagship to the corrupted island. "Gunnar doesn't fight for an era, yoi. He fights for his family. Blackbeard hurt his wife's family. He threatens ours. For Gunnar, that's all the reason he needs. It's a simpler, more brutal philosophy. And right now, it might just be what we need."
---
On the starboard side, on a swift, wolf-headed frigate named The Inferno, a different kind of energy crackled. Fire danced playfully on Ace's fingertips as he stared at the island with an impatient grin. As the newly appointed "Division Zero Captain"—a title Gunnar gave him for leading the most volatile, first-strike operations—he was practically vibrating with anticipation.
"Look at that place," Ace said, his voice alight with eagerness. "Gives me the creeps. Can't wait to burn it all down."
Beside him, polishing the blade of his katana, Kusanagi, sat Isshin Ashina. He was the calm to Ace's storm. Young, with sharp, focused eyes, he possessed an aura of deadly stillness that belied his age. He didn't look at the island. His focus was entirely on the steel in his hands.
"The den of a cornered beast is always the most dangerous," Isshin stated, his voice even and smooth. "He will not fight with honor. He will use deceit and desperation. Do not let your fire be smothered by his darkness, Ace-dono."
Ace laughed, a plume of flame escaping his lips. "Don't worry about me, Isshin! I've got you watching my back. Besides," his grin widened, his eyes glinting, "darkness is just a shadow waiting for a bigger light."
Isshin slid his perfectly polished blade back into its sheath with a soft, final click. He finally looked up, his gaze sweeping over the approaching coast. "There is only one rule in a battle for one's life," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Hesitation is defeat."
---
Lagging slightly behind, a deliberate position of honor and vengeance, was a familiar, candy-themed galleon. The Queen Mama Chanter sailed not with a song, but with a grim silence. On its deck stood the two tallest figures in the fleet.
Charlotte Katakuri, his arms crossed, his gaze like sharpened obsidian, watched his home approach. The sweet scent in the air was a mockery, a ghost of his mother's power now wielded by the man who had torn his family apart. Every line of his body was rigid with controlled fury. He could see it all with his Kenbunshoku Haki—a dark, chaotic future full of screaming and bloodshed. A future he was now determined to create.
Beside him stood Charlotte Smoothie, his sister and Gunnar's wife. She was a queen of war, her long legs and towering frame exuding an aura of regal lethality. Her eyes, however, burned with a cold, personal hatred.
"He's there, brother," she said, her voice dangerously low. "The man who defiled Mama's legacy. He's sitting on her throne, using her homies, his foul laughter echoing in halls that once held our siblings."
Katakuri's jaw tightened beneath his scarf. "He did not just defeat her, Smoothie. He absorbed her. That... abomination on the throne possesses a twisted version of her soul. An insult I will personally carve out of his flesh."
"Gunnar will break him," Smoothie declared, her gaze shifting to the Moby Dick. A flicker of pride softened her hard features. "My husband will shatter his bones and his ambition. But his soul... his soul is ours to reclaim. For every brother, every sister he captured or killed... we will wring it from him."
The fleet drew closer. The capital, with the monstrously deformed Chateau at its center, loomed before them. The sounds of a debaucherous pirate party, loud and crude, drifted across the water—the unmistakable sound of the Blackbeard Pirates.
On the Moby Dick, Gunnar's voice boomed across the fleet, amplified by a Den Den Mushi but needing no help to convey its power.
"Commanders! Let's get to work."
The invasion had begun.
***
Inside the cavernous, half-eaten husk of the Whole Cake Chateau, a grotesque parody of a banquet was in full swing. The air, thick with the smell of stale sugar and spilled liquor, echoed with the grating laughter of monsters. Broken gingerbread walls were smeared with frosting and grime. Sentient teacups, the "homies," shrieked in terror as they were shattered or used as ashtrays. This was the court of the new Emperor, Marshall D. Teach.
Blackbeard himself was sprawled on a makeshift throne of melted chocolate and hardened caramel, a throne ripped from the chateau's very foundation. A gargantuan, half-devoured cherry pie sat in his lap, its filling staining his black beard and bare chest.
"Zehahahahaha! To think the old hag's power was so useful!" he boomed, gesturing with a pie-covered hand. A nearby screaming candelabra, one of Big Mom's former homies, suddenly went limp, its flame extinguishing as a wisp of pink energy—a soul fragment—was drawn into Blackbeard's palm. He clenched his fist, and the energy vanished. "Fate truly sings my song!"
His Ten Titanic Captains were scattered around him, each a portrait of depravity.
"Wiiiihahaha! More booze!" roared Jesus Burgess, smashing two terrified, living beer steins together.
Vasco Shot, the "Heavy Drinker," was already passed out in a pool of his own making, his "topu topu topu" snores bubbling to the surface. Nearby, Doc Q coughed weakly, petting his sickly horse, Stronger, who looked moments from death.
Catarina Devon, the "Crescent Moon Hunter," was admiring her reflection in the polished blade of Shiryu of the Rain. "My, my, what a beautiful face I have," she cackled. "I wonder how many more I can collect today."
Shiryu didn't respond, his face impassive as he lit a new cigar. The only thing that mattered to him was the promise of a worthy throat to cut. Avalo Pizarro, the "Corrupt King," lounged across a collapsed cake spire, yawning. "This island is boring. When can this king rule a real kingdom?"
Laffitte, the elegant demon, tapped his cane rhythmically on the floor. "Patience, Pizarro-san. All things come to those who wait for the right winds of fortune."
Suddenly, Van Augur, who had been silently observing the horizon from a shattered balcony, lowered his rifle, Senriku. "Captain," he said, his voice calm and flat. "A fleet approaches. 'Destiny' has brought them to our shore."
The raucous laughter died down. Blackbeard stopped chewing, a piece of pie crust falling from his lips. "Oh? Who's come to the party uninvited?"
Before anyone could answer, a terrified pirate scout, his face pale and sweaty, burst into the throne room, tripping over the leg of a screaming armchair. "CAPTAIN TEACH! INVASION! A-A-A FLEET IS HERE!"
Shiryu's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes at the interruption.
The scout scrambled to his knees. "It's the Moby Dick, sir! And ships flying the banner of the old Whitebeard commanders! And... and..." He hesitated, trembling.
"Spit it out!" Blackbeard bellowed, his good mood evaporating.
"The Queen Mama Chanter is with them! C-Charlotte Katakuri is on the deck!"
A heavy silence fell. Blackbeard's grin returned, but it was wider now, more predatory. "Zehahahahaha! Whitebeard's brat... Gunnar. I heard he took in the leftovers of Big Mom's crew after I was done with them. And he brought the angry little mochi boy back home. How thoughtful!"
He stood up, his immense frame casting a shadow over the entire room. He tossed the half-eaten pie aside, where it was immediately swarmed by terrified, starving pastry homies.
"So, the son comes to avenge the mother-in-law," Blackbeard mused, a dark amusement in his eyes. "He thinks he can succeed where his old man failed? He thinks he can face me?"
From a shadowy corner of the room, a lazy, cold voice cut through the tension. "Ara ra... He's Whitebeard's son, Teach. And he has Ace and Marco. Underestimating them would be a pain."
Kuzan, the former Admiral, sat on a block of ice he'd created, a bottle of whiskey in hand. He hadn't partaken in the revelry, an outsider looking in. His gaze was tired, but sharp.
Blackbeard shot him a dark look before breaking into another booming laugh. "A pain? Zehahaha! Pain is just another part of the journey! This is perfect! Fate has delivered my next prize right to my doorstep! That Titan fruit of his... it'll make a fine addition to my collection!"
He raised a hand, and the very air seemed to groan. The remaining homies—the cake soldiers, the singing trees, the frantic teacups—all stopped screaming. Their eyes glowed with a sinister pink light, their forms twisting into more monstrous shapes. They were his army now.
"Ten Titanic Captains!" Blackbeard's voice roared, shaking the broken chateau. "Assemble the men! Wake up Sanjuan Wolf! Tell the prisoners from Impel Down that they get to have some fun!"
Burgess let out a "Wiiihahaha!" of pure battle lust. Shiryu drew his blade, a thin, bloodthirsty smile finally gracing his lips. Laffitte tapped his cane twice, a signal to the forces outside.
They filed out onto the grand balcony, overlooking the capital. Below, a massive, chaotic army was already forming. Thousands of the most ruthless pirates dredged from the depths of Impel Down roared and sharpened their weapons. And among them, a legion of grotesque candy soldiers and animated objects stood at attention, their eyes glowing with Blackbeard's stolen power.
In the distance, the Bloodline Pirates' fleet was now clearly visible, a line of sharks cutting through the syrup-sea.
"Look at them," Catarina Devon purred, licking her lips. "So many new faces to wear."
"Zehahahahaha!" Blackbeard's laugh echoed across his new kingdom. "Let them come! Let's show Whitebeard's legacy what a true Emperor's era looks like! Let's show them... a world of darkness!"