Kaguya's addition had further strengthened the Nightfall Pirates. Within ten days, he was already training alongside Teach and the others.
With abundant, nutrient-rich food, his frail, skeletal frame filled out quickly. He no longer looked like a walking shadow, there was now vitality in his movements, a faint glow in his silver eyes.
And then, the day came, the day of Gol D. Roger's execution.
"Roger's execution is in two days. I'll go alone. The rest of you stay here and watch through the broadcast," Teach said with a calm grin.
"Aren't we going with you? It's Roger's execution!" Wallace blurted, excitement bubbling in his tone. This was the kind of historical moment one couldn't just watch from afar.
"No," Van Augur interjected sharply, his tone uncharacteristically stern. "The top brass of the Marines will be there, Garp, Sengoku, the three Logia Admirals-to-be, plus dozens of Vice Admirals and elite units. If something happens, the Captain can escape. But with us… we'd just drag him down."
Baccarat adjusted her hair, her eyes narrowing. "He's right. If only the Captain goes, luck's on his side. If all of us go, that luck drops in half."
Nelson chuckled softly. "Then let's wait. What I'm looking forward to isn't his death, but the era that follows. Roger's illness, his surrender, this execution—it's all part of something greater. He won't simply die for nothing."
Kaguya looked at Teach, hesitant. "Be careful, Lord Teach."
"Zehahahahaha! Don't worry! Just wait here, our era's about to begin!" Teach's booming laughter filled the ship, his eyes gleaming with the light of a man who saw beyond the horizon.
The others couldn't help but grin, their blood igniting with that contagious fire.
Our era.
The words echoed in their hearts.
East Blue — Loguetown.
The final stop before entering the Grand Line, rich in trade and overflowing with people from all corners of the world.
But today, the city was unlike ever before. The streets overflowed with bodies, people standing shoulder to shoulder, roofs and balconies packed tight. The air itself seemed to buzz with anticipation.
The harbor—normally bustling with merchant ships—was eerily empty. Instead, Marine soldiers lined the docks in perfect formation, white coats gleaming under the sun, their blades flashing like polished steel. The path from the harbor to the execution square was sealed off, guarded with military precision.
Today was not just another day.
It was the day the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, would die.
And the world was watching.
A few miles off the coast, thirty massive Marine warships approached in tight formation.
Twenty-nine of them surrounded the main vessel, a fortress of a ship, at its center. This was the vessel carrying the man whose death would change the course of history.
The Pirate King himself.
Only the highest-ranking Marines were aboard. No one below Vice Admiral was permitted to set foot on this ship.
The escort list read like a legend:
Chief of Staff Tsuru, overseeing the execution.
Admiral Sengoku the Buddha.
Former Admiral Zephyr, now chief instructor.
Vice Admiral Garp, the Hero of the Marines.
And the three monstrous Vice Admirals, Sakazuki, Kuzan, and Borsalino, all destined to become Admirals.
Behind them were hundreds of officers, thousands of soldiers, and secret agents of the World Government.
Even the gods of the sea themselves couldn't have broken this escort.
On the bow deck stood Zephyr, clad in purple, his presence calm but commanding. He stared ahead toward Loguetown, the wind tugging at his coat.
"The World Government's really overdoing it," Zephyr muttered. "If they'd sent half this force after real pirates, the seas would already be clean."
Tsuru didn't even glance at him. "This isn't just an escort. It's a performance. Roger's execution must be flawless. Any mishap here would shatter the Government's credibility... and ours."
Zephyr sighed but didn't argue. She was right. Every corner of the world was watching. This was as much propaganda as punishment.
Beside them, Garp stood silent, unusually somber. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, on the island that held his oldest rival and, perhaps, his only true friend.
The strongest king of the sea was to die in the weakest of seas. There was something cruelly poetic about that.
"We're close," Sengoku's firm voice broke the silence as he lifted a Den Den Mushi. "All ships—prepare to dock."
Loguetown's heat pressed down like a heavy blanket.
The square was packed; anticipation and fear hung in the air.
In a small tavern tucked away from the main street, Teach sat at a wooden table with two cherry pies and a bottle of rare wine.
He poured a glass, savoring the aroma before drinking it all in one go.
Zehahahahaha… so many familiar faces.
Around him sat the young monsters of a future age, Mihawk, silent and sharp-eyed; Doflamingo, lounging with his trademark grin; Crocodile, exuding quiet arrogance; and Moria, already resembling a devil.
"Hey, kid. Lemme try your wine," a pirate slurred, swaggering up to Teach's table. His hand reached out greedily.
Teach's grin widened. "Didn't your mom ever tell you not to touch other people's stuff?"
He snapped his fingers—thump!—and the pirate went flying through the tavern doors, crashing unconscious into the street.
The tavern went still.
A few Marines appeared, shouting from the doorway, rifles shaking in their hands.
"Oi! No fighting here!" one barked nervously.
Teach just smiled, pointing lazily at the fallen pirate. "Relax. He just had too much to drink."
The Marines hesitated, then nodded, retreating. No one wanted trouble today. Not with Roger's execution so close.
As the door shut again, eyes turned back to Teach. No one dared provoke him now.
"What's that wine?" Mihawk asked quietly, curiosity breaking through his stoicism.
Doflamingo's grin widened. "Fufufu… Aphrodite's Kiss. A tribute wine from the Grape Kingdom, Celestial Dragon stock. Only three hundred bottles made a year." His gaze sharpened. "How'd you get your hands on that?"
Teach smirked. "What if I told you I stole it from a Celestial tribute ship?"
Silence. Then Doflamingo laughed softly. "Fufufufu… sounds like something you'd actually do."
Teach rose, bottle in hand, pouring a generous drink into Mihawk's glass, then Doflamingo's, Crocodile's, and finally Moria's.
As he poured, the air around them seemed to hum—a strange, shared understanding between predators.
The era of Gol D. Roger was ending.
But in that quiet tavern, over glasses of forbidden wine, the next era was already beginning to stir.