"What grand ambitions," Shakky murmured, taking a slow drag from her cigarette before exhaling a thin cloud of smoke. Her lips curved into a small smile. Watching Teach stirred something in her—a strange anticipation.
She was already an old woman, long retired from the seas. None of this had anything to do with her anymore. But to witness this man's growth… that might be worth staying around for.
A trace of nostalgia flickered in her eyes. This era hadn't truly ended. Rocks had been the overlord of the last age, his crew the pinnacle of power and chaos. The Rocks Pirates were a monument to hegemony itself.
Shiki, Edward Newgate, Charlotte Linlin, Kaido... every one of them had once flown under Rocks' flag. For all the chaos, none of them ever regretted it. Even Whitebeard never did.
"Rayleigh," Shakky asked suddenly, glancing at the man beside her, "you fought him before, didn't you?" She remembered Teach's challenge to Rayleigh earlier.
Rayleigh took a sip from his glass, savoring the wine. "Aye. That was two years ago. Not long after, Roger invited Oden aboard. The boy was only fourteen then." His eyes drifted with memory.
"We fought for three days straight. He'd beaten Eyedragon in just over a day, then turned his blades on me. We clashed until the end. That kid had stamina like an ocean, immense raw strength, swordsmanship at a master's level, and martial arts to back it. His Armament Haki was already formidable, his Observation sharp, sharp as mine, even."
Rayleigh exhaled, smiling faintly. "Back then, he already had the strength of an officer. No doubt about it—he was a monster. And now… he's stronger."
"Then you'd best prepare yourself," Shakky said, leaning against the bar with her chin propped in her palm. "Next time he comes, his strength will have climbed even higher."
"Hah! I promised him, didn't I? And besides"—Rayleigh raised his glass, swirling the rich liquid under his nose—"this wine alone makes it worth it."
Meanwhile, Teach and Peto arrived in Area 72 by carriage. With so many inns clustered there, it didn't take long before they checked into one.
Inside, Teach pulled a Den Den Mushi from his coat pocket and dialed.
Buruburu… buruburu…
The snail stirred awake, eyes opening. "Teach, what's going on?" Mostima's voice came through, breathless and strained beneath the distant roar of beasts.
On the other side, Mostima hurled himself sideways as a massive shadow fell from above. A colossal elephant trunk slammed down where he'd just stood, leaving a deep imprint in the earth, ridged with thick stripes.
The beast bellowed. Its forelegs reared up, then crashed down. Boom! The ground shook violently, aftershocks rippling through the air.
Mostima slipped free again, wings beating once to vault him skyward.
"Come to Sabaody," Teach said evenly. "I've got two Devil Fruits; the Gorilla-Gorilla Fruit, Silverback form, and the Lizard-Lizard Fruit, Lizard form. They're perfect for Hadena and Hademan."
Mostima's eyes gleamed. "I'll be there tomorrow." He vanished again just as the elephant's trunk swept wide, the beast blinking in confusion.
"Bring plenty of cash," Teach added. "There'll be a major auction in Area 1. Devil Fruits will be up for grabs."
"I understand," Mostima replied, already speeding off. Behind him, Ares was still in battle—his fist colliding with that of a giant ape, shaking the very air. The ape staggered back, overwhelmed by Ares' superior strength, collapsing heavily onto its backside.
Ares glanced once at Mostima's fading aura, then dismissed it. Minor matters. His attention returned to the fight.
Back in Sabaody, Teach turned to Peto. "Stay here. I have something to do."
Slipping into a black robe, he moved into the underbelly of the archipelago—the black market.
Devil Fruits were his quarry. Rarely did they surface for sale, but this was Sabaody: the crossroads of pirates, merchants, and hunters. Here, even people were sold. Why not fruits?
And for now, their value was far less inflated than it would be after the Great Pirate Era began. In the years to come, as the number of pirates doubled and demand for Devil Fruits soared, even the weakest Zoan would fetch over 100 million. But here and now? Fifty to sixty million was often enough.
Scarcity creates value. It was a truth Teach knew well.
He entered a slave shop, greeted by a beaming manager. "Welcome, sir! What sort of slave are you after? Singers, artists, fallen nobles, butlers, even exotic races. We've just had a fresh shipment."
Fresh. Meaning newly captured.
Teach let himself be guided deeper inside, past rows of cages. Men and women of all kinds sat chained, slave collars locked around their throats. Hatred burned in their eyes, but despair, too. Some still resisted, thrashing against bars. Others had already broken.
The manager sneered at their glares. He'd grown numb to them over the years. Still, he made mental notes of the fiercest eyes. Later, he'd break them properly. For now, the customer came first.
"Anything stronger?" Teach asked flatly.
"Of course! But it depends on the Beri," the manager replied, eyes glittering with greed.
"Money isn't an issue."
The man nearly rubbed his hands raw with excitement as he led Teach deeper. Here the cages held pirates with bounties, fallen nobles, beautiful women. All neatly packaged merchandise.
Then Teach's Observation Haki swept over them—and paused.
In the corner sat a white-furred Mink. A lion. His mane was wild, his body scarred and battered from fresh beatings. Even maimed, with one eye blind and scarred, the beast exuded raw ferocity. The aura of a born predator.
Teach's lips curled. He stepped closer. "This one."
"Excellent choice!" The manager's grin widened. "A rare White Lion Mink. We caught him when our ship docked on a beast island. He cost us dearly—many men died subduing him."
"Price," Teach cut in, uninterested in the sales pitch.
"Five million."
Teach nodded without hesitation. "Done."
The manager unlocked the cage. The Mink—Gar—tensed, shackled hands curling into fists. His instincts screamed at him to attack, to kill, to escape. But he also knew the collar around his neck could end him instantly. He'd seen it happen before.
Teach's voice cut through his thoughts. "Take off his shackles."
The manager obliged. Whether this slave killed his new owner later wasn't his concern.
Gar stepped out, muscles taut, mind racing. His eyes locked on the man in the robe. He was waiting. Waiting for the right chance to strike, to snatch the detonator, to be free.
But before he could act, Teach tossed him something. A small object clinked in his hand. Gar stared down—then froze.
The key.
The key to his collar.
Confusion and instinct warred inside him. Why… why give him this? Every nerve screamed danger. Whoever this man was, he was strong. Stronger than anyone Gar had ever met.
Teach's voice came calm and steady. "You're a Mink, right? What's your name? How'd you end up here?"
Gar's grip tightened on the key. His left eye, scarred and blind, glinted with something between suspicion and hope.
For the first time since his capture, his resolve wavered.