Mostima nodded, and Ares stopped pressing the matter.
"Ares, you'll stay here with Mostima. I'm not worried about your strength. But, If you run into problems, ask him."
Teach grinned. "Next time I come back, you'd better be even stronger."
"Just don't let me surpass you, Teach," Ares replied with a faint smile. His words carried the confidence of a king. In truth, despite his mature presence, he was still young—no older than fourteen or fifteen in human terms, when adjusted for the lifespan of a gold-devouring ant. It was why Teach often called the Ant King a true monster, a born ruler. Even without him, Ares could have risen to dominate Devil Island in no time.
"Zehahaha! As if that could happen. Just don't die before I return." Teach laughed heartily. With Ares's nature, patience was unlikely. He would challenge the sea's powerhouses soon enough—and might even make a name for himself faster than Teach.
In that moment, Conqueror's Haki erupted from Teach, clashing with an equally forceful surge from Ares. The air between them rippled before both pulled it back just as quickly.
The others were stunned. The Ant King possessed Conqueror's Haki too—the mark of a king. And yet, despite having the qualifications of a ruler himself, Ares still yielded to Teach.
"Then all of you need to grow stronger, fast," Teach said, smiling. "The New World is about to grow even more chaotic. Without strength, you'll be swept away by the current."
They didn't fully grasp his meaning, but Mostima's eyes sharpened. He remembered Teach's earlier words, the great events looming ahead, the hints about Roger. Could it be?
Roger, the Pirate King, suffering from an incurable disease, already surrendered to the Marines… Would he truly die so easily? Mostima doubted it. But if Teach was right, they wouldn't have to wait long for the world to change.
The New World was a storm of titans: Whitebeard, Kaido of the Beasts, Big Mom Charlotte Linlin, and Golden Lion Shiki with his unrivaled Flying Pirates. Beyond them were countless ambitious powers clawing for dominance.
Alexandre Caesar, the "Devil" of the Satan Pirates, a Mythical Zoan Human-Human Fruit, Devil Form user.
Akane Rexter, the "Trickster" of the Weird Pirates, who wielded the Paramecia Mind-Mind Fruit.
Apep, the "Demonic Sword," a Great Swordsman with the Teleport-Teleport Fruit.
Together, these crews rivaled the legends. Beneath them, more predators emerged—new names rising from the chaos.
Eric, captain of the Eric Pirates, a Logia Acid-Acid Fruit user, already carving out a bloody reputation.
Katakuri, Big Mom's second son, mastering the Mochi-Mochi Fruit and displaying terrifying Observation Haki even at a young age.
Lemor, once the third prince of the Kate Kingdom, now Kaido's subordinate, bearer of the Ancient Zoan Tyrannosaurus Rex Fruit. He had survived Teach's hand, admired Kaido's overwhelming strength, and pledged loyalty to him.
And from Whitebeard's crew—Marco the Phoenix, Diamond Jozu, Flower Sword Vista.
This sea had no shortage of monsters.
Teach didn't plan to linger. He would depart in one day, but there was still preparation to finish.
The next morning, at the port of Whitewater Island, Mobius waved from the deck of a ship Mostima had arranged. "Boss Teach! We're off! See you down the line!"
Teach watched them go, smiling faintly.
Mostima stood beside him. "Aren't you going to see them off? What if they run into trouble?"
"They need to learn to survive without me. If they die, then that's as far as their path went. But I trust them. They're strong enough to carve their own way now."
Mostima smirked. "How heartless." But inside, he was pleased. He didn't want a leader swayed by sentiment. Teach's decisiveness proved his worth.
"Zehahaha! On this sea, even Pops faces the deaths of his sons. If he shielded them from everything, the Whitebeard Pirates would never have grown, and Pops wouldn't be a legend. Family is both his burden and his reason to grow stronger. That's what makes a great pirate—a man who accepts both ambition and sacrifice. Out here, lives are cheap."
Teach's laughter rolled across the port. Mostima listened silently, then Teach's eyes fixed on him. "Don't die. Wait for me to come back."
"Of course," Mostima said firmly. "I won't allow myself to fall behind." The gleam in his eyes showed his determination. He had glimpsed Teach's ambition and intended to keep pace with it. The Night Pirates would one day stand among the world's greatest crews—he couldn't lag behind.
"Zehahahaha! Good. If you want real growth, find a beast island. Training alone won't cut it."
Mostima nodded. He'd remember those words.
Teach turned. "Then I'll go too." His path lay ahead: a merchant ship bound for Paradise, the first half of the Grand Line.
There were two ways from the New World: the perilous route through Fish-Man Island ten thousand meters below, crawling with sea monsters… or the safer route over the Red Line through Mariejois, controlled by the World Government. That path required expensive permits but was safer for merchants. Pirates often disguised themselves to pass through, though at greater cost.
This ship specialized in trading Whitewater Island's crafts to noble buyers in Paradise. The profit margin was enormous—sevenfold or more.
Teach and Pito boarded, supplies in hand. Departure was set in two hours.
Out at sea, Mobius leaned on the railing of his own ship, watching the endless waves. For the first time, his heart pounded nervously. With Teach around, he'd always felt secure. But now, alone…
This was his true beginning.
"Voss, we have to work hard now," Mobius said, clenching his fists. "When Boss Teach returns, he'll have even stronger comrades. If we don't grow, we'll be left behind."
Voss's hand touched the hilt of Night Raid, his short sword. "Hmm." He agreed completely. Teach's ambition was boundless, his expectations high. To disappoint him was unthinkable.
"Then let's train now. No excuses." Mobius strapped on heavy weights and began exercises. Voss followed, matching his intensity.
On a beast island nearby, roars shook the forest. Ares stood at the center, aura blazing, golden horns gleaming. The beasts rallied against him, furious at the intruder challenging their rule. But this was exactly what he wanted. Ares was a conqueror—he would subjugate them all.
He carried with him a Devil Fruit Teach had given him: the Human-Human Fruit, Wildman Form. The Wildmen were a brutal race, furred giants with immense strength but slightly dimmed intelligence compared to humans. It was perfect for Ares, who planned to subdue one worthy subordinate.
Blood, roars, and thunder filled the island.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts, Mostima honed his body through combat against beasts. He knew his weakness was physical strength, and he meant to overcome it. If others could train themselves into monsters, so could he. Whitewater Island lay just minutes away by his speed, so he wasn't worried. With Ares there, no real danger could threaten them. And this was Whitebeard's territory—protection was assured as long as tribute was paid.
Far away, Mobius set foot on Seth Island again. The rebuilt port bustled with life. Under Anthony's leadership, the island had not only recovered but flourished.
"Boss Mobius, you're back!"
Mobius turned at the familiar voice. A young man in a silver guard's uniform ran toward him, eyes bright.
"Dubai!" Mobius laughed, recognizing his old comrade.
Dubai grinned. "I'm a guard now! They said I had talent. Lord Anthony himself trained me."
Mobius's eyes softened. He hugged Dubai, pride in his chest. Then he introduced Voss. "We've come to join the guard for training. Two years of hard work. This is my partner, Voss."
"Then I'll take you there right now," Dubai said warmly, leading them toward the Executive Building at the island's heart.