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In the early months of Sea Calendar 1500, on the Sabaody Archipelago.
This island ruled by the World Nobles was still lost in a decadent dream, its inhabitants completely unaware of the oppressive atmosphere that precedes a great storm.
It was a picture of tranquility. The various slave auctions were held as scheduled, and the Sabaody Park was filled with laughter and joy. Only the Marine base had a slightly oppressive and solemn air.
For nearly two months—Kong, Sengoku, Garp, and the others—had adjusted their condition to its absolute peak, ready at any moment to arrest Redfield, and even Arthur and Whitebeard.
The future of the Marines rested on this one battle. Failure was not an option.
If they could not arrest Redfield, the World Government would undoubtedly hand over the authority of the Marines to their lapdogs, the World Government's direct, top-secret intelligence agency—CP0.
The final calm before the storm.
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In the lawless area, at a bar.
With the prestige of the Marines at an all-time low and the Great Age of Pirates gradually reaching its zenith, this island, a necessary stop for pirates entering the New World, was filled with noisy figures.
Merchants, bounty hunters, and pirates—a motley crew.
Occasionally, one could even see high-ranking officials bearing the mark of the World Government and the World Nobles wandering about.
Unfortunately, in the nearly two months Arthur had been here, he had not once seen these so-called World Nobles. Otherwise, a little warm-up event before the great battle would have been quite nice.
However, today, he had sensed two familiar auras...
He stepped into the bar as he usually did, wanting to see the "acquaintances" inside.
Striding through the main entrance, the noisy roars mixed with the smell of alcohol hit him in the face. Arthur frowned slightly. He disliked this kind of environment, but he liked to drink.
He pulled down the wide brim of his hat, ignoring the crowd around him.
It wasn't that Arthur liked to keep a low profile, but rather... he had no desire to associate with this group of pirates who were just playing make-believe. There were only a few rookie pirates on the sea that he would even deign to look at. He would directly ignore the rest of the trash.
The laughable thing was, in the two months that he had been coming to the bar almost every day to drink, he had not been recognized once.
It was a stark contrast to his time in the New World, where he was a dazzling figure, the center of attention wherever he went.
On the seas, eras change, storms rage, and all sorts of big news are constantly emerging. The new rookies who were constantly appearing rarely paid attention to a high-and-mighty figure like Thunder Emperor Arthur.
Perhaps it was because they thought such a great figure would never come near them. Coupled with the lack of information, someone who hadn't been seen for a long time was quickly forgotten.
Not everyone could be like the recently famous Doflamingo, who had made thorough preparations before setting out to sea.
More accurately, Arthur's rise to fame had been too short. His reputation was not as deeply ingrained as that of the Pirate King Roger, Whitebeard, the Golden Lion, or the Red Count.
Moreover, the recent news about the Thunder God Pirates had all been focused on Shiryu, Byrnndi World, and the others. These commanders of the Thunder God Pirates were making a name for themselves, conquering all in their path, their glorious reputations almost overshadowing Arthur's own.
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He approached the bar, ordered a few glasses of strong liquor, and was just about to drink in peace.
"Get lost, kid! This is no place for you to sit!"
A drunk, top-heavy pirate, his upper body incredibly burly but his lower half as thin as a bamboo stick, yelled, holding a wine glass.
"Hm?" The glass Arthur was bringing to his lips suddenly stopped. He was annoyed by the stupid man who had suddenly appeared to disturb his peace.
Eating, drinking, and sleeping were some of the things he valued most. To be disturbed would make him extremely angry.
"Get lost while I'm still in a good mood..." he said, casting a faint glance at the top-heavy, bizarre-looking pirate. Arthur drained his liquor, too lazy to bother with such an idiot.
However, not everyone had the eye to distinguish the strength of an enemy.
"Hahahaha! Edith, you idiot, did you just get ignored?"
"He told you to get lost! You can even tolerate that?"
The other pirates, who loved to watch a good show, all began to mock Edith, the pirate who had disturbed Arthur.
"You damn kid..." Edith was enraged by the humiliation. He had never expected that he, a man with a bounty of 80 million, would be ignored. This had never happened in the first half of the Grand Line.
"Hahahahahaha~"
Just as Edith was about to explode, a low, hoarse, yet strangely charismatic laugh echoed through the entire bar, completely drowning out all the noise.
"I'm about to laugh my teeth off. Thunder Emperor? You're letting some nobody like this get under your skin?"
In a corner of the bar sat a man in a bright red suit, his entire being exuding a sinister aura. Red clothes, red pants, a deep red cape, and a blooming blue rose pinned to his chest. His motionless left hand rested on a thin, weapon-like umbrella.
Patrick Redfield.
For him to be sitting here meant that the Army on the Red Line had truly been, as the rumors said, completely crushed by his hand alone.
In the eyes of a pirate, this was a terrifyingly great feat.
And sitting at the same table with him was a sloppy old man with glasses, sandals on his feet, and a full head of white hair—the right hand of the Pirate King, the "Dark King" Silvers Rayleigh.
The men of the previous era had all become remnants of the new one. No matter how deep their grudges, they could temporarily put them aside and raise a glass to each other.
Because only those of the same era and of great strength had the right to drink and talk face-to-face.
Of the older generation, those who had retired had retired, those who had died were dead. How many were left? They would only grow more and more lonely.
Sooner or later, Arthur would also face this situation. Perhaps in the future, in the entire world, there would not be a single person who could speak with him as an equal, to raise a glass and drink.
This was an inevitable reality, a cruel price that had to be paid for reaching the peak.
Arthur had long been prepared to welcome this loneliness that came after reaching the pinnacle. Or rather, he hadn't even considered it, and was too lazy to.
Rayleigh's golden hair was now completely white, scattered over his shoulders. Redfield was also old. The man who had once been like a nobleman now had wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his entire being filled with a twilight aura.
It was the symbol of age. No one could resist growing old.
"Redfield? Rayleigh?" A smile gradually spread across Arthur's face. To be able to reveal his identity and sit here meant that Redfield was also prepared to be ambushed by the Marines.
Arthur cast an indifferent glance at the pirates in the bar, who had fallen into a dead silence out of shock and panic.
"GET OUT. THIS IS NO PLACE FOR TRASH LIKE YOU."
"BOOM!!"
As if they had been granted a great amnesty, the pirates scattered in all directions, practically tumbling over each other as they scrambled out.
Three legendary-level great pirates had gathered in this small, unremarkable bar.
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