The sea stretched endlessly beneath a clear, windless sky. The ship cut through the calm waves as gulls drifted lazily overhead.
Life aboard Teach's vessel had settled into a steady rhythm, Gar and Wallace trained on deck, Pito sat quietly reading, and Teach and Baccarat fished off the stern.
The newest addition to their crew, the sharpshooter Van Augur, stood at the railing, his rifle gleaming faintly under the sun. His lone eye focused on a distant flock of seabirds. Without a word, he aimed. A single crack split the air—one bird stiffened mid-flight and dropped into the waves.
He fired again. And again. Every shot struck true, though his brow furrowed with mild dissatisfaction. The kills weren't clean enough... too much pain left behind.
It had been sixteen days since they left Jaya Island. Supplies had been restocked, and nothing notable had happened since Augur joined. He'd spent most of his time either honing his marksmanship or studying the Six Powers of the Marines. Teach had insisted every crew member be capable in close combat.
Augur wasn't weak without his gun, but even so, he trained obsessively to build up his body, preparing himself to wield Armament Haki one day.
"Baccarat," Teach sighed, casting a side-eye toward the woman lounging beside her overflowing bucket. "Stop cheating with your ability. That's not fishing."
Baccarat grinned, reeling in a line that twitched wildly. "Hey, someone's got to make sure we don't starve. Besides, I like seeing your sulky face when I win." She yanked hard, pulling up a thrashing two-meter fish in one motion. "Dinner's served."
Teach only chuckled. He was soft on her... maybe too soft. "At this rate, you'll make the sea run out of fish."
The ship rocked gently, sunlight glinting on the water. It was a quiet moment… until Teach suddenly stiffened. His expression darkened.
A pressure—massive, oppressive—brushed the edge of his senses. It was wild, untamed, familiar in a terrifying way. He'd felt something like this only a few times before… from people like Rayleigh.
Teach's Observation Haki expanded instantly, sweeping outward like an invisible wave. His gaze fixed on the horizon. Somewhere, to starboard, lay a small, uninhabited island. The presence pulsed from there, immense, unhidden, and deliberate.
Then he felt it; the other side was aware of him too.
On that island, a man sat on a massive rock before a fire, roasting meat on a spit. He was huge—muscles coiled like steel cables, the air around him heavy and burning. Mid-bite, he froze. His own Observation Haki surged outward, blanketing the island in an instant.
Nothing. No visible threat.
Still, he smiled faintly. "Heh. Someone's peeking."
Then he took another bite.
Back on the ship, Teach's crew noticed his sudden stillness.
"What's wrong, Captain?" Baccarat asked.
Teach didn't answer at first. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, thoughts racing. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "There's an island ahead. We're going."
The mood shifted. Gar immediately took the helm, steering toward the direction Teach indicated, while the others exchanged uneasy glances. They all knew their captain's Haki stretched far—yet his face now carried a gravity they hadn't seen before.
The closer they drew, the quieter Teach became.
When the island finally came into view, he took a long breath. "When we land," he said in a low voice, "don't interfere. No matter what happens."
They nodded silently.
The ship anchored by the shore of a barren island crawling with beasts. Teach stepped off first, his heavy boots sinking into the sand. He moved inland alone.
As he approached the island's center, the pressure ahead intensified until the air itself seemed to crackle.
Then...
BOOM!
A dark, tyrannical force erupted outward. Conqueror's Haki.
It hit like a storm. The sky darkened, winds roared, and streaks of red-black lightning danced between clouds. The entire island trembled.
Teach didn't flinch. He grinned, teeth bared, and released his own Conqueror's Haki in return. His aura burst outward—dense, black, gravitational—colliding with the other man's like two worlds crashing together.
The ground cracked beneath his feet. The air rippled violently. It was a contest of spirit, king against king.
For a moment, neither side yielded.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the two presences receded. The sky brightened again, though the atmosphere remained heavy with tension.
From afar, the crew watched the chaos unfold. Winds whipped across the beach; the ocean surged in waves.
"What the hell was that?" Baccarat gasped.
"Conqueror's Haki," Pito said, closing her book, her small hands gripping it tight. "It's the power of kings. You're born with it or you're not."
The explanation left the others silent. Wallace's eyes widened. "So that's what happened back at Hanabal… when everyone fainted."
Gar clenched his fists. "Then whoever Captain's facing, he's on another level."
Deep in the forest, the man finally appeared—massive, broad-shouldered, golden hair flowing behind him, eyes like molten iron. He wore a dark military jacket, ear muffs over his head, and a grin carved in defiance.
The moment Teach saw him, his heartbeat quickened. The air around the man vibrated with power—physical strength, Haki, and something else… a strange resonance with the earth itself.
That power. That presence.
Douglas Bullet.
The "Demon Heir." Former crewmate of the Pirate King. A man said to rival Rayleigh himself.
Teach couldn't help but laugh under his breath. Excitement coursed through him like fire. "Zehahahaha… so it's you."
For the first time in years, he'd found an opponent worthy of his full strength.
An opponent who could push him to the edge.
And on that silent island, beneath a sky still trembling from the weight of two kings' wills,
the clash between Marshall D. Teach and Douglas Bullet was about to begin.