Sea Calendar 1520, March 15.
East Blue.
A massive galleon with a black panther figurehead and three decks sailed against the sunrise. Atop its mast, a dark skull flag billowed, adorned with a white skull flanked by red hourglasses—symbols of captured prey and inevitable surrender, proclaiming, "You'll yield to me; it's just a matter of time."
In East Blue, most knew this flag and ship. It belonged to the region's most notorious pirate crew, boasting the highest bounty.
On the Pseudo-Merry, Ata clutched wanted posters, eyeing the distant pirate ship. "The Krieg Pirates, claiming 5,000 men, East Blue's largest crew."
"Captain: Admiral Krieg, 17 million beri bounty, dubbed East Blue's overlord."
"Chief Commander: Ghostman Ajin, 12 million beri."
Ahua adjusted his glasses, studying the posters. "If they've got 5,000 men, why's there only one ship?"
"Probably patrolling their territories," Alo said, sliding down the mast. "Krieg wouldn't cluster everyone—it'd make them a navy target."
Glancing at the charging galleon, he added, "That's likely Krieg's flagship, *Dreadnaught Sabre*."
"So Krieg's on board," Ahua said.
The trio turned to Sora at the bow, awaiting orders. They didn't fear East Blue's "overlord." Compared to Sora, these pirates were frail. Five years ago, Sora had matched the legendary Okama King, whose bounty exceeded 80 million beri.
As Sora's crew spotted the Krieg Pirates, the enemy noticed them, veering straight toward the Pseudo-Merry.
The pirates couldn't fathom the grim fate awaiting them. Ignorance was bliss, letting them act without restraint.
Lucky or not for the pirates, for Sora's crew, it was a stroke of fortune—a break from the monotony of their voyage.
Watching the *Dreadnaught Sabre* close in, Sora turned to Ahua, Alo, and Ata, their eyes gleaming with excitement. A feral grin curled his lips. "Krieg's mine. Kuina takes the officers. You three handle the grunts."
"Woo!" The trio leaped, thrilled.
After years of sword training, they burned to be swordsmen who slew villains. Without hope of progress, they'd left the dojo. Facing heinous pirates, they felt no guilt.
Ignoring their fervor, Sora faced the Krieg Pirates, thoughts churning.
In the One Piece world, most held a sense of justice—not the World Government's, but a readiness to draw blades against evil. Even the navy, often called government lapdogs, was over 90% genuinely just.
His crew was no different.
Pirates, though, were criminals cloaked in dreams. The sea offered endless wealth, and some amassed fortunes through luck, courage, strategy, or strength. Most pirates simply robbed these earners, reaping riches effortlessly.
They squandered their plunder freely, unbound, even lawless.
True dreamers like Luffy were rare. Ambitious or strong individuals often turned to piracy, egged on by others, entrusting their lives to crime.
Here, one couldn't ignore Gol D. Roger. His dying words drove the hesitant, the aimless, even the indifferent to the seas. Some sought the One Piece, but most just wanted to be pirates, chasing beri and freedom, not treasures.
For this, Roger was despised—not just by the World Government and navy, but by islanders plagued by pirates.
Pirates weren't judged by strength but by cruelty. The weakest were often the vilest, targeting unguarded villages when they couldn't rob armed merchants. Robbery turned to arson, murder, even village massacres.
Sora had read countless such reports.
"Agh!" Ahua's shout snapped him from his thoughts. "I'll take ten!"
"Just you?" Alo scoffed, chasing him to the cabin. "I'll get fifteen!"
"Twenty, then," Ata said, exasperated, following the bickering duo. "Let's see who gets more."
"Bring it!"
"Hmph!"
Sora ignored the trio fetching weapons, turning to Kuina, who stared ahead. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, "Nervous?"
"I'm destined to be the greatest female swordsman. Why would I be?" Kuina met his gaze, her calm face tinged with excitement. Facing the Krieg Pirates, she said firmly, "I left nervousness at the dojo the day we sailed."
"Mm. Enjoy the fight. They're all scum anyway."
Even if they hadn't attacked, Sora wouldn't have spared them. Newspapers often reported their town raids.
He wasn't a saint. For villains at his doorstep, he'd send them to hell, even if some were new or less cruel.
So what?
He wasn't Luffy, sifting through guilt or innocence. He wasn't a cop, judge, or arbiter of souls. Just a guy raised under a red flag in his past life.
Anyone with justice would've fled such a crew. Those who stayed, even if unbloodied, wanted to be villains. To Sora, they were all the same.
The two ships met.
The Dreadnaught Sabre cut across, dwarfing the Pseudo-Merry like a child before a giant.
"What? Not a merchant?" Pirates leaned over the railing, scowling at the tiny sailboat. Initially mistaking it for a merchant vessel, they'd rushed over, hoping for plunder. Up close, they saw an empty deck with five sword-wielding youths standing calmly.
They loathed such ships—rookie pirates playing house, with no loot.
Even the striking couple at the bow couldn't tempt them. They weren't slavers. They craved resources, nothing else.
"Sigh."
Lowering rope ladders, they prepared to board. A mosquito's still meat.
A sharp, swift scrape rang out.
Zing!
A silver-white slash surged from below, slicing horizontally.
"Watch out!"
"Urk!"
Slow pirates barely screamed before their necks were cut, frozen in place. A red line appeared, widening.
Splurt!
Heads flew, tumbling back.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Faster pirates, retreating to the deck, heard the thumps. Stiffening, they felt something roll to their feet. Glancing down, they saw heads staring back, eyes wide with unyielding death.
A chill shot from their soles to their scalps, freezing them. They dared not look back. Swordsmen's flying slashes were beyond them—only their captain or officers could fight those.
Scrambling to the deck's center, they screamed, "Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
"What's the racket?" a calm, commanding voice cut through.
The crowd parted, revealing a tall figure in golden armor and black boots, a cape draped over his shoulders. Purple hair bound by a headscarf, his ruthless eyes marked him as trouble.
To his left, a lean man in a striped headband, green T-shirt, and gray jacket and pants. To his right, a man covered in round shields, a bubble atop his head.
The trembling pirates recounted the attack to their captain and officers.
"Swordsman?" Krieg eyed the headless corpses and rolling heads, his aura darkening.
Killing his crew in East Blue? They're begging to die.
(End of Chapter)