The climate of the Grand Line was truly peculiar. Despite being situated along the equator, it remained completely unaffected by normal planetary weather patterns. Consequently, every island possessed a unique, localized climate entirely its own.
Sunshine, sandy beaches, beautiful women...
Summer Solstice Island—an isle where the climate remained perpetually summery—was a destination perfectly suited for a vacation. It also happened to be one of the few places in the treacherous first half of the Grand Line where one could find a rare sense of tranquility.
Along the pristine shoreline, tourists frolicked playfully in the surf.
Sitting atop the mast of the Little Fish, Darian swept his eyes across the beach with an appreciative glance. Before long, however, his enhanced vision spotted something rather intriguing.
Beneath a large sunshade near a beachfront café, a petite, youthful-looking girl was engrossed in painting on a canvas. Reclining in a deck chair right beside her was a lanky man sporting a ridiculous topknot shaped like the number "3."
With a lecherous expression plastered across his face, the man ogled the women on the beach, but his gaze kept drifting—whether intentionally or otherwise—in the direction of Darian's moored ship.
Their eyes met through Darian's spyglass. The man with the "3" hair—acting as if nothing had happened—promptly turned his head away to sip his drink.
"Interesting," Darian murmured.
Watching the man pretend not to recognize him, Darian broke into a cold smile.
Having spotted a potential adversary, Darian certainly wasn't about to sit idly by and wait for them to execute an ambush. The Straw Hat Pirates had nearly met their doom on Little Garden precisely because they underestimated Mr. 3's cunning.
Leaping down from the crow's nest, Darian stepped onto the shore. To avoid causing a panic (and to keep his passive charm in check so he wouldn't be swarmed by tourists), he kept his white mask firmly secured over his face.
Even so, his imposing physique drew several admiring glances. He had to politely decline the advances of two bold women before he could make his way down the beach.
"Goldenweek, he's coming over."
Seeing the masked man marching directly toward them, Mr. 3 began to lose his composure. He sat up, his drink trembling in his hand.
Miss Goldenweek—the young girl who was currently sketching, her face completely devoid of expression—glanced up briefly before dipping her brush in red paint. "I'll leave the fighting to you. I'll help you distract him."
Hearing this, Mr. 3 relaxed slightly and grinned in a shifty, confident manner. "Heh heh... let's give the 'White Emperor' a taste of the terrifying power of my Wax-Wax Fruit!"
Darian finally closed the distance between them. He stopped a few paces away from the sunshade, looking down at the duo.
"You two are Officer Agents of Baroque Works, aren't you?" Darian asked calmly.
Although he was certain of their identities, Darian decided to confirm it before engaging.
Upon hearing the inquiry, Mr. 3 gave a sleazy chuckle, adjusting his glasses. "As expected of a wanted criminal with a 66-million Berry bounty. You really are sharp! I am Mr. 3, and this is my partner—"
"Good. I was just worried I might end up killing the wrong people."
Darian didn't let him finish. He raised his right hand, two fingers extended. A thick, massive bolt of blue lightning shot out from his fingertips, aimed directly at Mr. 3's chest.
"Asura Path: One Million Volts..."
But before the lightning could strike, the young girl spoke in a flat, monotone voice.
"Colors Trap: Matador's Red."
She flicked her paintbrush. A streak of vibrant red paint splashed onto the sand right in front of Darian.
BOOM!
The lightning strike—which Darian had intended to unleash upon Mr. 3—suddenly veered off course. Darian felt an overwhelming, irrational compulsion hijack his nervous system. His arm jerked, and the lightning slammed into the patch of red paint on the beach instead.
The blast sent superheated sand flying in all directions, turning the silica into instant glass.
"Interesting," Darian muttered, lowering his smoking hand.
He had originally intended to vaporize Mr. 3 with a single blow. However, his interest was now piqued by this petite girl.
Marianne, codenamed "Miss Goldenweek," possessed a terrifying ability to manipulate the emotions and actions of others using hypnosis induced by specific colors.
Darian had assumed that only a simpleton like Luffy would fall under her influence. He never expected that he himself would be so easily hijacked. Affected by the "Matador's Red," Darian felt an intense, bull-like rage compelling him to attack only the color red.
Thunder boomed overhead as Darian fought the mental compulsion. The tourists frolicking on the beach began to flee the scene in panic.
Seeing that Marianne had successfully captured Darian's attention, Mr. 3 couldn't help but laugh triumphantly. "Well done, Goldenweek! I'll take it from here."
"Candle Lock!"
Mr. 3 conjured a massive glob of molten, white wax in his hands and hurled it directly at Darian's legs, aiming to immobilize him while he was distracted by the hypnosis.
The wax produced by the Candle-Candle Fruit, once solidified, possessed a hardness comparable to steel. If Darian were to be locked down by it, he would be at a severe disadvantage.
Darian snapped out of the red-rage just in time.
"Discharge!"
A burst of raw electrical energy erupted from Darian's body, vaporizing the molten wax hurtling toward him before it could harden.
Just as Darian raised his hand to launch another bolt at Mr. 3, a splash of yellow paint hit his shoe.
"Colors Trap: Laughing Yellow."
Darian's arm dropped. A sudden, uncontrollable urge to burst into hysterical laughter bubbled up in his chest. He clamped his mouth shut beneath his mask, his shoulders shaking as he fought the ridiculous compulsion.
Goldenweek had saved Mr. 3 again.
Having his mind manipulated repeatedly was deeply irritating. Darian had initially been reluctant to attack a girl who looked like a child, but her support abilities were too dangerous to ignore.
"Impressive," Darian managed to say, fighting down a chuckle. "I've got high hopes for your defense."
Darian shifted his stance. He stopped trying to aim at specific targets.
"Watch out, Marianne!" Mr. 3 yelled, feeling a sudden chill run down his spine. He threw his hands up. "Candle Wall!"
A massive, thick wall of hardened white wax erupted from the sand, erecting a barrier in front of the two agents.
But it was too late. And Mr. 3's defensive angle was entirely wrong.
"Heavenly Path: Area Discharge."
KRA-KOOM!
Instead of shooting lightning from his hands, Darian released the stored electrical energy from his entire body in a 360-degree omnidirectional blast.
The shockwave of electricity bypassed the wax wall entirely, arcing through the air and the wet sand.
When the thunder subsided and the blinding flash faded, both Goldenweek and Mr. 3 lay sprawled on the beach, their bodies smoking and scorched black by the electrical blast.
Darian looked down at the young girl, whose eyes had rolled back into her head. "Your ability is unique, but it has limits against area-of-effect attacks."
Just as Darian was feeling pleased with himself for neutralizing the threat so efficiently, a massive, deafening BOOM rang out from the docks behind him.
Thick plumes of black smoke began billowing into the sky.
Darian spun around. The smoke was coming directly from the Little Fish.
His expression instantly turned murderous.
The Shopping District.
Hearing the thunder and the subsequent explosion, Nami and the others—who were out shopping in the town plaza—froze.
"What on earth is Darian doing over there?" Nami grumbled instinctively, clutching a shopping bag. "Making such a huge racket!"
"I hope nothing bad has happened!" Vivi replied, looking toward the docks with deep concern.
"Nah, I doubt it," Nami sighed. "If something were really wrong, he'd contact us via the baby Den Den Mushi. Let's just ignore him for now; getting this shopping done before the stores close is what matters most."
Standing nearby, Robin wore a pensive expression as she cast a brief, analytical glance toward the thick black smoke. She knew exactly who was supposed to be on this island.
Hearing Nami assure them that everything was fine, the other women returned to their shopping.
The Docks.
Darian stood beside the Little Fish, staring gloomily at the massive, jagged hole blown into the side of the wooden hull.
On the deck, a gruesome scene had unfolded.
Darian hadn't anticipated this. Upon hearing the thunder of Darian's fight on the beach, Mr. 5—the "Snot-Nosed Guy"—had assumed Darian was distracted. Stripped of his weapons and stuck in a barrel of seawater, Mr. 5 had made a desperate, suicidal play.
He was a Bomb Man. His breath, his sweat, and his very skin were explosive. He had managed to heave himself out of the barrel and, in a final act of spite, detonated his entire body at point-blank range against the ship's hull.
The blast had killed Mr. 5 instantly, scattering his remains across the dock, and severely damaged the ship.
Darian, who had originally intended to keep the assassin alive until they reached Alabasta to harvest the Bomb-Bomb Fruit, flew into an absolute rage. The loss of a potential Devil Fruit was irritating, but the damage to his ship was unforgivable.
"Damn it!" Darian cursed, kicking a piece of splintered wood into the harbor. "How am I supposed to explain this to Nami?! She's going to kill me!"
Later That Evening.
Just as Darian had predicted, when Nami returned and saw the state he had left the ship in, she immediately unleashed a furious, Haki-infused combo attack upon his skull.
Although Nami didn't harbor a deep, sentimental attachment to the vessel itself, it had been a gift from her home village. But most importantly, repairing a ship with a gaping hole in its hull cost money—and lots of it.
In the end, Darian found himself owing Nami yet another massive, unpayable debt.
Of course, Darian had long since ceased to care about his imaginary tab with her; after all, Nami was practically his now, so whether he "owed" her money or not was irrelevant. Nevertheless, he remained absolutely furious over Mr. 5's actions.
Darian and his crew had originally planned to set sail immediately after stocking up on supplies. But due to the necessary repairs, they were forced to stay and rest on Summer Solstice Island for the night.
Fortunately, the resort island had a resident shipwright who was willing to work late for triple pay; otherwise, Darian surely would have chopped the unconscious Mr. 3 into pieces and fed him to the sea kings.
As for Miss Goldenweek, although the women were annoyed by the actions of Baroque Works, they felt a strange sense of sympathy for Marianne. Perhaps it was because they had seen her—a child, scorched black and looking utterly terrified after waking up bound on the deck.
In any case, after some negotiation (and intimidation), the crew aboard the White Emperor's ship had gained another, albeit sullen, hostage/member.
Nightfall.
The ship remained docked at the pier, making for a much steadier environment than the open sea. The day's events had been exhausting, so the women had all retired to their cabins early.
It was Darian's turn to stand watch again.
He sat in the captain's chair beside the helm, gazing idly at the moon and rubbing the fresh lump on his head.
Suddenly, the crisp sound of high heels clicking against the wooden deck drifted in from behind him.
Darian turned around.
"Carmen? Why aren't you asleep yet?" Darian asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
Carmen stepped into the moonlight. She was clad in a sheer, white silk nightgown trimmed with delicate lace. The thin fabric offered a tantalizing, unmistakable glimpse of the deep cleavage at her bosom, accentuating her sexy, alluring figure.
With every step she took, her long, fair legs peeked out from the high slit of the gown.
She was carrying a silver tray with a plate of pastries and a cup of warm tea. She smiled, her cheeks dusted with a light blush.
"Since you're the one standing watch tonight, Captain," Carmen said softly, her voice husky, "I was worried you might get hungry. So I prepared a late-night snack for you."
Compared to Nami and Robin, Carmen might have been considered slightly more 'ordinary' in terms of raw, unearthly beauty, but she was undeniably gorgeous, easily on par with Mikita or Vivi.
Gazing at her standing there in such a provocative, see-through outfit, holding a tray of food, Darian could only think one thing.
With you standing right here looking like that, how on earth am I supposed to have an appetite for pastries?
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[AUTHOR NOTE: My some fics are somewhat shadow banned by webnovel like my Naruto fic. Can you guys help me? Just try any other fic of mine and and add to your library if you like them. Have a nice day.]
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