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Of course, the younger, ambitious pirates eager to challenge Ace were swiftly stopped by Robin.
"There will be opportunities in the future," she advised, her tone firm. "For now, let things unfold as planned. There's no need for unnecessary complications."
And so, time moved forward.
Seasons passed, spring gave way to autumn, and a year and a half slipped by unnoticed. The Sea Circle Calendar entered 1521.
The world continued to change, as it always does. Lifespans shortened, appearances altered, and power and wealth shifted hands. But amidst these inevitable transformations, three concepts persisted: inherited will, the dreams of the people, and the ever-changing waves of the era.
Whether it was a boy of destiny preparing to set out from a quiet village in East Blue or an ambitious man biding his time aboard Whitebeard's ship, the wheels of fate were in motion.
The New World
It was firmly under the control of the Four Emperors, stood as a testament to their dominance. Yet, as the Grand Line's most formidable region, it remained a magnet for countless pirates, drawn in by dreams of glory and riches, even as Marine influence expanded.
Beyond the fierce clashes between the Four Emperors, the New World remained alive with constant skirmishes. Fresh blood spilled daily as new crews sought to carve their place in this unforgiving sea.
Today was no different.
Off the coast of Whitebeard's territory, the night was alight with fire. The dark clouds above mirrored the chaos below as a burning ship drifted, battered and broken, on the edge of sinking. Flames consumed its deck, and shattered planks floated on the water's surface.
The battle aboard the doomed vessel was drawing to its grim conclusion.
"Clang—!"
A sharp metallic ring echoed as a man, wielding a sword with both hands, was hurled backward by an overwhelming force. His momentum carried him into the fiery remains of the cabin, scattering smoldering debris.
Whether it was the heat of the encroaching flames or the sheer terror instilled by his opponent, the man, clad in a chef's uniform, rose unsteadily, sweat pouring from his brow as he clutched his sword.
"Damn it!"
The captain surveyed the devastation around him—fallen crew members, a ruined ship, shattered dreams. His voice cracked with fury as he shouted hoarsely:
"You bastards ruined everything we worked for! Our dreams!"
Fueled by rage, he gripped his sword tightly and charged toward his opponent, his attack filled with desperation.
"Foolish dreams," his enemy replied coldly. "If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for crossing the Whitebeard Pirates."
The voice belonged to Thatch, the stoic captain of Whitebeard's 4th Division. His calm demeanor betrayed the raw power coursing through his veins. His arms, bulging with strength, held his weapon steady, ready to counter the reckless charge.
With precise control and a flash of Armament Haki, Thatch's blade met the attacker's sword.
—CRACK!
The captain's weapon shattered on impact, splintering like fragile glass. Thatch's strike didn't stop there. The force of his attack tore through his opponent, splitting the captain cleanly in two.
Blood sprayed across the deck as the lifeless halves of the man collapsed, motionless.
Thatch flicked the blood from his blade before calmly sheathing it. Without sparing another glance at his defeated foe, he turned and walked away.
Moments Later
In the distance, a figure shrouded in flames streaked through the air, heading toward Thatch's location.
"Thatch," the fiery figure called out, the voice unmistakable.
Seeing Ace waving as he approached, the chilling expression on Thatch's face softened, replaced by a cheerful smile.
"Oh! Ace, everything's already taken care of here," Thatch said with a lighthearted tone.
"Ah… what a shame," Ace replied, visibly disappointed.
Having spent over a year together, Thatch was well-acquainted with Ace's personality. With a helpless chuckle, he teased, "What's there to be disappointed about? Shouldn't you be celebrating for me instead?"
"You're done already? Doesn't that make my trip here to back you up a waste?" Ace retorted, smirking.
"You bastard," Thatch laughed, shaking his head. "Fine, I'll share some of the spoils with you."
"I don't need that," Ace said, waving dismissively. His eyes swept over the fallen pirates scattered across the deck. "I just don't get where they found the nerve to challenge us."
At a glance, it was clear these were rookies fresh out of the first half of the Grand Line—clueless about Haki and hopelessly outclassed. Thatch's division had dispatched them with ease, without so much as a scratch.
"I heard a bit of news," Thatch said, his gaze following Ace's to the battlefield. "Apparently, they hijacked goods from some underworld faction and then ran to our territory to stash them, thinking it would be a safe haven."
Ace scoffed. "Idiots. Instead of lying low, they stirred up trouble on one of our islands."
"Right," Thatch continued. "They've got no idea what they're doing. Supposedly, the goods belonged to one of the big players in the underworld."
Ace raised an eyebrow. "Aren't these guys supposed to have bounties over 300 million berries? What kind of pirates are scared of those underworld rats?"
Ace's disdain for the darker forces of the world was no secret. To him, such factions were beneath notice.
"Ordinary underworld figures wouldn't scare them," Thatch said. "But when it's connected to the Sky Kingdom, that's a whole different story."
"The Sky Kingdom?!" Ace's surprise was evident. Despite once considering challenging the infamous force, he had set aside the idea after joining Whitebeard's crew. Not only did he want to avoid trouble for his newfound family, but the immense power of Whitebeard himself had made him rethink the scope of what a figure like Flying Admiral Alex might command.
"It seems so," Thatch nodded. "And judging by the timing, it's not far from the Fire Festival—but that's not our concern. These guys are way out of the Flying Kingdom's league."
With a grin, Thatch added, "That just means their blunder benefits us, the Whitebeard Pirates."
Ace rubbed his hands together, excitement glinting in his eyes. "I've heard the stuff they send out for the Fire Festival is top-notch. Let's see what treasures they've got."
"Patience, Ace," Thatch said with a laugh. "Good things are meant to be shared. After all, we're one big family."
Before long, the spoils were loaded onto Thatch's ship, and the 4th Division and 2nd Division set sail back to the Moby Dick. By the time they returned, the sun was setting, casting the sky in hues of red and orange.
As the warm glow of dusk bathed the Whitebeard Pirates' flagship, Thatch instructed his crew to transfer the loot aboard. While Whitebeard allowed his captains autonomy over their spoils, many preferred to store their treasures on the main ship, reinforcing the sense of unity and family among the crew.
When Ace mentioned the haul being related to the Fire Festival, word quickly spread among the other captains. One by one, they gathered, curious to see what had been recovered.
Among the hoard of treasures, there were pearls, rare trinkets, and accessories crafted from exotic materials. However, the centerpiece was a small wooden box that Thatch held with care.
As they carried the box, Thatch—who had already peeked inside—smirked mischievously. "There's something extraordinary in here," he teased. "Care to guess what it is?"
His words drew the attention of the other captains, who started tossing out guesses:
"A gem?"
"A famous blade?"
"Idiot, the box is too small for a weapon like that!"
"Could it be… a Devil Fruit?" someone ventured, the suggestion silencing the others.
Thatch chuckled and stopped his teasing. With a flourish, he opened the box.
Inside was a fruit that resembled a pineapple, but its purple skin was adorned with swirling, snail-like patterns—unmistakable as a Devil Fruit.