The newspapers gradually stopped mentioning the ART Pirates. At first, people found it strange. How could the crew that had defeated a Yonko simply disappear?
Days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
Eventually, newer headlines pushed the old ones aside.
Another pirate defeated.
Another kingdom in turmoil.
Another Marine operation.
The world kept moving. To ordinary people, the ART Pirates slowly became nothing more than yesterday's news. Some assumed they had sailed into the New World. Others believed they had finally been destroyed.
A few even claimed the newspapers had exaggerated their achievements from the very beginning.
Without fresh stories to keep the legend alive... the conversations faded.
Life continued. Yet while the public gradually forgot... the rulers of the world never did.
Within the officer of Emperor Pirates, Marine Headquarters, the Cipher Pol divisions, and the highest chambers of the World Government, reports bearing the ART Pirates' name continued to arrive with unsettling regularity.
Not reports of conquered kingdoms.
Not massacres.
Not wars.
Instead... just sightings. A merchant had seen them in a northern harbor. A Marine patrol had confirmed their presence on a remote island. A government agent had discovered traces of them along an entirely different route only weeks later. Individually, none of the reports seemed alarming.
Together, they painted a picture that no one could fully understand.
A crew capable of defeating an Emperor had vanished from the world's attention...
Yet somehow... they were everywhere. No one knew what they were searching for. No one knew what they were building.
And to those who ruled the world... that uncertainty was far more frightening than any declaration of war.
...
The Grand Line never allowed anyone to grow comfortable.
No matter how long they sailed, the sea always found new ways to defy expectation. One morning, the Athena drifted beneath a sky so clear that the horizon seemed endless. By afternoon, black thunderclouds swallowed the sun without warning. Rain poured in torrents for less than ten minutes before disappearing as abruptly as it had arrived, leaving behind a brilliant rainbow stretching across the ocean.
No one aboard questioned it anymore.
That was simply the Grand Line.
The Log Pose continued pointing forward, faithfully guiding the Athena from one island to the next. Every destination promised something entirely different from the last.
Every island was another page in a world no map could ever fully describe.
...
The first island welcomed them with silence.
Snow blanketed everything as far as the eye could see. Towering pine forests stretched across white mountains, while frozen waterfalls glittered beneath pale sunlight. Tiny wooden houses clustered together beneath steep roofs designed to bear the weight of endless winters. Smoke curled lazily from stone chimneys, carrying the comforting aroma of warm bread and roasted meat.
"I hate this island already." The moment Sugar stepped onto the dock, she shivered violently.
Bepo, on the other hand, threw himself face-first into the snow with the enthusiasm of an excited child.
"It's amazing!"
Within minutes he had somehow convinced Sabo to help build an enormous snow bear that looked suspiciously like himself.
Arthur strolled quietly through the village, sketchbook in hand.
He paused near a frozen lake where children glided effortlessly across the ice on handmade wooden skates. Their laughter echoed across the snowy valley, carried by crisp mountain winds.
Arthur smiled.
Rather than sketching the frozen mountains...
He captured the children's laughter instead.
Robin later found him sitting beneath an ancient pine tree, carefully adding finishing touches to the sketch.
"You didn't draw the mountains."
Arthur looked toward the children still racing across the frozen lake.
"The mountains will still be here next winter."
His pencil continued moving.
"Their childhood won't."
Robin smiled quietly before continuing toward the village library.
...
Several weeks passed... the world transformed once again.
The sea itself seemed to burn beneath an unforgiving sun.
Golden dunes stretched beyond the harbor without end. Heat shimmered across the horizon, distorting distant cliffs into wavering mirages. Palm trees stood like lonely guardians around scattered oases where travelers eagerly sought shade.
"I miss the snow." The crew had barely crossed the dock before Baby-5 wiped sweat from her forehead.
"I take back everything I said." Sugar nodded immediately.
"...Can we go back?" Bepo looked equally miserable.
"No," Law answered without even looking up from his notebook.
The desert kingdom bustled with life despite the relentless heat. Merchants filled colorful bazaars with woven carpets, polished gemstones, fragrant spices, and handcrafted pottery painted in vibrant blues and golds.
The scent of cinnamon, saffron, and roasted lamb drifted through every street. Baby-5 disappeared almost instantly. Hours later, she returned carrying enough spices to fill several crates.
"I may have gotten carried away."
"You say that every island," Hancock said with a faint smile.
Nearby, Hancock lifted one graceful hand toward the cloudless sky. Soft white clouds slowly gathered overhead before drifting above the crew, shielding them from the blazing sun. A cool breeze followed. The entire market erupted into grateful applause.
One elderly merchant laughed warmly.
"I don't care who you are..."
"But you're welcome here anytime."
Hancock simply smiled before continuing down the street as though she hadn't done anything remarkable.
...
Their next destination felt like stepping into another world entirely.
Ancient trees rose hundreds of meters into the sky, their colossal trunks wider than entire villages. Thick vines connected towering branches, forming natural bridges high above the forest floor. Sunlight barely reached the ground.
Everything breathed. Flowers opened whenever someone walked nearby. Gigantic butterflies shimmered with metallic wings. Strange birds sang melodies unlike anything the crew had ever heard.
"...Magnificent." Robin's eyes sparkled.
She disappeared into the forest almost immediately, notebook already open in her hands.
Law wasn't far behind. Rare medicinal plants grew everywhere. Some glowed softly beneath the shade. Others released fragrant mist whenever touched.
"This doesn't exist in any medical journal," Law murmured while carefully collecting samples.
Arthur wandered more slowly than either of them. He stopped before a flower unlike any he had ever seen. Its petals continuously shifted through every color of the rainbow. He quietly sat upon a fallen tree. Opened his sketchbook. And began drawing.
Hours later, when Robin returned, she found him still sitting there.
"You've been here all afternoon?"
"The flower kept changing colors." Arthur nodded.
"So did your painting." Robin looked at the painting.
"I noticed." He smiled.
...
Not every island was peaceful. Some challenged the crew in unexpected ways.
One tiny island floated high above the sea, suspended by enormous pillars of rock that seemed to defy gravity itself. Waterfalls flowed upward instead of down. Fish swam through the sky as though invisible oceans surrounded the cliffs.
"...I don't even have questions anymore." Sugar stared upward with her mouth hanging open.
"I think that's the healthiest reaction." Koala laughed.
The crew spent an entire afternoon simply exploring, climbing impossible paths and watching clouds drift beneath their feet.
No enemies.
No battles.
Only wonder.
...
The Log Pose never stopped turning. Island after island. Season after season. Every destination rewrote everything they thought they understood about the world.
Arthur eventually stood alone at the bow of the Athena as another unfamiliar coastline slowly emerged from the morning mist.
Behind them...
A kingdom buried in snow.
A desert ruled by endless dunes.
A forest older than recorded history.
An island that floated among the clouds.
Each one had seemed impossible.
Until they reached the next one.
And somehow... the next island always managed to be even more extraordinary.
...
As the months passed, a quiet rhythm naturally settled over the ART Pirates. Every time the Athena anchored at a new island, no formal orders were needed. Everyone already knew where they belonged. Not because Arthur assigned them. But because, somewhere along the journey, each person had discovered what they truly wanted to pursue.
Robin and Law always disappeared first. Whether the island was home to a thriving kingdom or a forgotten fishing village, Robin's feet inevitably carried her toward one destination. The library.
Some were magnificent buildings filled with towering bookshelves and priceless manuscripts. Others were nothing more than a single room attached to an elderly schoolteacher's home.
To Robin... there was no difference. Every book contained someone's history. Every page preserved a piece of humanity.
Law usually accompanied her, though for entirely different reasons. His interests rarely lay in politics or legends. Instead, he searched for medical journals, anatomical records, botanical studies, and anything that could expand his understanding of medicine.
Occasionally, the two of them would become so absorbed in their research that sunset arrived before either noticed. One afternoon, inside a centuries-old library carved directly into the side of a cliff, Robin carefully closed a weathered book.
"The author was only a fisherman." Law looked up from a thick medical encyclopedia.
"So?"
"He documented the ocean currents for forty-three years."
"Not because anyone asked him to. But because he believed someone, someday, might need the knowledge." Robin gently brushed dust from the cover.
"The world moves forward because people like him exist." Law nodded thoughtfully.
"So does medicine." Robin smiled.
By the time they returned to the Athena that evening, Robin carried another stack of local history books, while Law carefully organized newly purchased medical texts inside waterproof cases. Neither considered them expenses. They considered them investments.
...
Baby-5 and Sugar were rarely difficult to find. One simply had to follow the irresistible aroma of food. Every island possessed its own unique flavors. Different spices. Different cooking methods. Different traditions.
Baby-5 treated each destination like another culinary school. In one kingdom she learned how to smoke fish over fragrant cedar wood. On another island she discovered bread fermented with wild fruit instead of yeast. A tiny coastal village taught her to preserve seafood using herbs that grew only on nearby cliffs. Every recipe found its way into the thick notebook she carried everywhere.
Sugar... contributed in her own unique fashion.
"...Can I taste that?"
She had already sampled half the marketplace before Baby-5 finished speaking with the first vendor.
"This candy has cinnamon."
"This one has honey."
"This one has both."
"You've eaten seven already," Baby-5 reminded her.
"I'm conducting research."
"...Research?"
"For desserts."
Baby-5 couldn't argue with that.
Especially after Sugar somehow discovered a tiny family bakery hidden behind the marketplace. The elderly owner proudly introduced them to pastries made from a recipe passed down for nearly two hundred years.
Baby-5 carefully copied every step.
Sugar carefully copied every sample.
Both left equally satisfied.
...
Hancock and Koala preferred exploring at a slower pace. They wandered through shopping districts, flower markets, artisan streets, and quiet neighborhoods untouched by tourism.
Sometimes they purchased practical supplies.
Sometimes... they bought things simply because they were beautiful.
Handcrafted jewelry.
Silk scarves.
Decorative seashell ornaments.
Painted teacups.
Fresh perfume distilled from local flowers.
Koala laughed one afternoon after watching Hancock pause before a tiny boutique window for nearly five minutes.
"I thought you weren't interested."
"I'm not."
"You've been staring at it."
"I've been evaluating it."
Koala smiled knowingly.
"So... are we going inside?"
Hancock looked away.
"...Perhaps."
An hour later...
Both of them left carrying far more bags than either intended.
Koala glanced sideways with a playful grin.
"I thought we were only looking."
"We were."
"...Then what happened?"
"The shopkeepers were very persuasive." Hancock looked perfectly composed.
Koala laughed all the way back to the harbor.
Baccarat and Kuina usually handled the crew's practical responsibilities.
Fresh rope.
Replacement sails.
Medical supplies.
Repair materials.
Navigation tools.
Extra lantern oil.
Water barrels.
Everything the Athena needed to continue sailing. Kuina approached shopping the same way she approached swordsmanship.
Efficiently.
Every purchase served a purpose.
Every coin was accounted for.
Baccarat, however... had developed an unexpected talent.
Negotiation.
She somehow managed to persuade merchants into offering discounts without ever raising her voice.
"You've saved us quite a fortune." Arthur eventually noticed.
"...Old habits. I spent years watching people negotiate." Baccarat smiled sheepishly.
"And now you're better than most of them." Arthur chuckled.
For the first time... Baccarat accepted the compliment without immediately denying it.
...
Meanwhile... Arthur rarely entered expensive shops. Instead, he wandered through ordinary neighborhoods. He sat beside old fishermen repairing nets. He watched blacksmiths shaping glowing steel. He listened to elderly storytellers entertaining groups of children beneath enormous trees.
Sometimes he helped craftsmen restore broken furniture. Other times he quietly painted street musicians while they performed. His sketchbooks filled far faster than his journal.
One afternoon, an elderly carpenter noticed Arthur studying a half-finished rocking chair.
"You build?"
"A little."
"Then stop watching." The old man handed him a chisel.
Together...
Without exchanging many words...
They finished the chair before sunset.
When the carpenter offered payment, Arthur simply shook his head.
"I've already been paid."
"I didn't give you anything." The old man frowned.
"I know." Arthur watched a little girl laughing as she rocked back and forth in the finished chair. Then he quietly walked away.
"...Strange young man." The carpenter stood there for a long moment before smiling to himself.
Every island taught them something different.
Some lessons came from books.
Some from recipes.
Some from conversations with strangers whose names they would never learn.
The world was far larger than battles. Far richer than treasure.
And every time the Athena departed another harbor... the crew carried far more than supplies aboard. They carried pieces of every island with them. Not every member of the ART Pirates searched for knowledge. Some searched for people.
...
Wherever the Athena dropped anchor, Sabo and Bepo somehow found the children first. No one knew how. Perhaps children simply recognized kind hearts more quickly than adults did. Within an hour of arriving on almost any island, the two of them would be surrounded by laughing boys and girls.
Sometimes they organized races through village streets. Other times they built treehouses, flew handmade kites, or played endless games of hide-and-seek. One island became famous for its spinning tops carved from ironwood. Another taught children to balance across floating bamboo poles above the river. Sabo joined every competition. Bepo usually lost every one.
"Again!" one little boy shouted.
"I almost won that time!" Bepo insisted.
"You said that five rounds ago," Sabo laughed.
"That only proves I'm improving."
The children erupted into laughter.
When it was finally time to leave, dozens of tiny hands waved from the harbor until the Athena disappeared beyond the horizon.
For many of those children... the strange pirate with the iron pipe and the white-furr bear became stories they would tell for years.
...
While laughter echoed through village squares...
Monet quietly disappeared. Few people ever noticed when she left. Fewer still noticed when she returned.
Every island held information.
Trade routes.
Political rumors.
Pirate movements.
Marine patrol schedules.
Black-market connections.
Revolutionary whispers.
Monet listened far more than she spoke. She visited newspaper offices, taverns, merchant guilds, shipwrights, fishermen, and travelers arriving from distant seas.
She never asked direct questions.
She simply allowed people to talk.
Most were eager to do exactly that.
Sometimes all it took was sharing a cup of tea.
Sometimes buying someone dinner.
Sometimes simply listening.
Weeks later, those conversations quietly became something much larger.
On one island, a retired navigator agreed to send her reports whenever unusual ships entered the harbor.
On another, a bookstore owner promised to preserve newspapers before burning old editions.
Elsewhere, a merchant captain offered copies of shipping manifests from ports across Paradise.
One contact became three.
Three became ten.
Ten quietly became dozens.
Without announcing it... Monet had begun weaving an invisible web that stretched farther with every island they visited.
"You've been busy." One evening, Arthur found her writing names inside a leather-bound notebook.
"I've been planting seeds."
Arthur glanced over the pages.
No classified codes.
No elaborate ciphers.
Only names.
Occupations.
Harbors.
Simple observations.
"The best intelligence network," Monet said quietly, "is built on trust."
"And trust can't be bought." Arthur smiled.
"No."
"It has to be earned."
...
Back aboard the Athena... life remained just as lively.
Ikaros, Nymph, and Astrea rarely left the ship unless necessary. Someone always needed to remain behind. Besides, they had happily accepted another responsibility. Arthur's three children.
Every afternoon the deck transformed into a playground. Wooden swords clashed against imaginary monsters. Paper airplanes filled the sky. Colorful chalk drawings covered sections of the deck before being washed away by the sea. Astrea enthusiastically participated in every game. Usually with far more enthusiasm than coordination.
"I won!"
"You tripped over your own feet," Nymph sighed.
"I still won."
"...How?"
"I don't know!"
The children laughed anyway.
Nearby, Ikaros quietly folded dozens of paper cranes with perfect precision before teaching the youngest child how to make one.
Each attempt looked slightly crooked.
Each one received exactly the same gentle praise.
"Very good."
The child's smile grew brighter every time.
Watching from the quarterdeck, Baby-5 smiled softly.
"They're becoming more human."
Robin glanced toward the three Angeloids playing together.
"They always were."
...
Arthur rarely followed anyone else's routine. Every island called him somewhere different. Sometimes he spent hours painting fishermen repairing their nets beneath the morning sun. Other times he sat quietly outside a bakery, sketching customers as they came and went.
He drew blacksmiths hammering glowing steel. Children chasing butterflies through flower fields. Old couples sharing tea beneath enormous trees. Street musicians performing for strangers. Busy markets. Quiet alleys. Ordinary moments.
His sketchbooks multiplied until an entire bookshelf aboard the Athena had been devoted solely to his drawings.
One evening, Koala flipped through one of them.
"...You've painted hundreds of people."
"I don't know any of their names." Arthur nodded.
"You don't need to." She turned another page.
An old woman feeding pigeons. A young sailor proposing marriage. A little boy asleep on his father's shoulders.
"They're beautiful."
"History remembers kings." Arthur smiled faintly.
"I'd rather remember everyone else." His fingers brushed gently across the page.
"And someday..." Robin, who had been reading nearby, quietly closed her book.
"...they may be the reason history survives." She looked toward the endless sea beyond the windows.
Arthur didn't answer. He simply continued sketching.
...
Months quietly became a year.
One year slowly became more.
The Athena crossed countless seas.
Visited dozens of kingdoms.
Celebrated unfamiliar festivals.
Learned forgotten traditions.
Shared meals with strangers.
Said countless goodbyes.
The Grand Line remained dangerous.
Storms still came without warning.
Sea Kings still lurked beneath the waves.
Pirates still chased fame.
Marines still hunted those they called criminals.
But between those moments...
Life continued.
And that was precisely what Arthur wanted his crew to understand. The world wasn't made only of wars. It was built by ordinary people living ordinary lives. Every island reminded them why they had chosen this journey.
Not to conquer the Grand Line.
But to know it.
...
As another sunset painted the ocean in shades of crimson and gold, the Athena sailed steadily toward the next unknown horizon.
Behind them... countless islands had become cherished memories.
Ahead... countless more were waiting.
...
The years passed more quickly than anyone aboard the Athena had expected. Not because they hurried. But because every day was filled with something worth remembering.
The Log Pose continued guiding them across Paradise.
One island became two.
Two became ten.
Ten eventually became dozens.
Some remained in their memories because of breathtaking landscapes. Others because of the people they had met.
There was a kingdom where every house was built into the branches of colossal trees.
A fishing village that held lantern festivals every full moon for sailors who never returned home.
A volcanic island where blacksmiths forged blades using lava flowing directly from the mountain.
A nation where musicians settled arguments with performances instead of violence.
A city whose streets bloomed with flowers all year because children cared for every garden together.
None of those places appeared on the front pages of newspapers. None shaped world politics. Yet each quietly reminded the crew that the world was far more beautiful than the endless conflict between pirates and the World Government.
...
The ART Pirates changed as well. Not through sudden breakthroughs. But through thousands of ordinary days.
Robin's library aboard the Athena eventually expanded into an entire archive. Books filled every available shelf, history, culture, medicine, navigation, architecture, agriculture, music, languages. Some books were priceless. Others were handwritten journals gifted by ordinary villagers.
To Robin... every one of them was equally valuable. Knowledge belonged to everyone.
Law's medical laboratory gradually became almost unrecognizable. Cabinets overflowed with herbs collected from every climate imaginable. Medicines developed on snowy islands stood beside remedies created in scorching deserts.
He experimented tirelessly, new antidotes, new surgical techniques, new methods of combining medicine with his Devil Fruit.
One evening, Arthur entered the laboratory carrying a fresh cup of coffee.
"You've been awake all night."
"I know." Law never looked up from the microscope.
"You should sleep."
"I will."
"...When?" Arthur waited.
"...Eventually." Law paused.
Arthur simply placed the coffee beside him before quietly leaving. Some habits... would probably never change.
Baby-5's kitchen slowly became legendary. Every island added another recipe, another spice, another cooking technique. Meals aboard the Athena no longer belonged to one nation. Breakfast might include bread from a northern kingdom. Lunch featured seafood prepared using recipes learned from distant fishermen. Dinner combined ingredients gathered from islands separated by thousands of miles.
Every meal became another reminder of their journey. Sugar remained her most enthusiastic assistant. Or, her most enthusiastic taste tester. Depending on who was asked.
Monet's information network spread farther with every passing year. Harbor masters, merchants, traveling musicians, shipwrights, doctors, journalists, innkeepers, none considered themselves spies. They simply trusted the woman who always listened more than she spoke.
Whenever the Athena reached another island... news was often already waiting. Marine movements, pirate sightings, political changes, rumors of rare Devil Fruits, strange disappearances, nothing escaped the invisible web she had patiently woven across Paradise.
Arthur often joked that newspapers eventually reached Monet before they reached the printing press. She never confirmed... or denied it.
Meanwhile... Arthur's collection of paintings quietly became something extraordinary. Hundreds became thousands. Landscapes, Portraits, Festivals, Markets, Children, Families, Craftsmen, Fishermen, Musicians, None were famous. Most would never appear in history books. Yet Arthur painted every one of them with the same care he once devoted to masterpieces.
One rainy afternoon, Koala wandered into the storage room where countless finished canvases rested safely inside protective wooden crates.
"...Captain..." She stopped in silence.
"Hm?" Arthur looked up from his easel.
"...You've painted an entire world."
"No." Arthur smiled faintly.
"I've only painted the parts worth saving." He gently brushed another stroke of color across the canvas.
...
By the beginning of the fifth year... the crew realized something remarkable. Paradise no longer felt unfamiliar.
Every route they had chosen...
Every harbor they had entered...
Every island they had explored...
Together they formed something far greater than a voyage. They formed home. The Grand Line had stopped being a place on a map. It had become part of them.
One peaceful evening, the Athena sailed beneath a sky overflowing with stars. The sea was unusually calm. Most of the crew gathered quietly on deck after dinner. Some watched the stars. Others simply enjoyed the cool breeze.
Arthur stood at the bow, exactly where he had stood five years earlier after crossing Reverse Mountain. No one spoke.
Eventually, Robin stepped beside him.
"We've changed."
"We have." Arthur nodded.
"We've explored every route we could."
"We have."
"We've met more people than I could ever remember." Robin laughed softly.
"That's why I painted them." Arthur smiled.
The sound blended gently with the waves. For several moments, neither of them spoke again.
Finally... Arthur looked toward the distant horizon.
"The world is ready."
"...For what?" Robin's expression grew thoughtful.
"For the next chapter." Arthur's crimson eyes remained fixed on the endless sea ahead.
Far away...
Beyond the peaceful waters of Paradise...
Inside the towering halls of Marine Headquarters...
A Den Den Mushi rang.
Pururururu... Pururururu...
"This is Intelligence Division." An officer answered immediately.
"We've confirmed another sighting." The voice on the other end spoke only one sentence.
"...Where?" The officer's expression changed.
"Paradise."
"Which route?"
"Now... all of them."
Silence.
Sheets of reports were quickly spread across a large table.
Island names.
Witness testimonies.
Marine patrol logs.
Merchant records.
At first, they appeared unrelated. Then someone connected the dots. The same pirate crew had appeared across every major route through Paradise.
Not raiding kingdoms.
Not conquering territories.
Not declaring war.
Simply... traveling, learning or juts sights seeing.
The room grew unnaturally quiet.
"They aren't wandering anymore." A senior intelligence officer slowly folded his arms.
"No."
"They're preparing." Another officer looked toward the growing stack of reports.
No one answered. Because everyone in the room had reached the same conclusion. The ART Pirates were no longer just another rising crew. They were becoming something far more dangerous. Not because of the battles they fought... but because of the world they now understood.
Far across the sea, completely unaware of the meeting taking place within Marine Headquarters, the Athena continued sailing toward the horizon. Its white sails caught the midnight wind. Its crew laughed together beneath the stars.
And somewhere beyond the darkness... destiny quietly waited.