Sanji came to their table, his signature confident stride and charming grin lighting up the room. "Hey everyone! Hope you're hungry — the kitchen's cooking up something special!" He gave Mario a once-over, eyebrow raised in that playful way that made Mario's heart skip a beat. For a moment, Mario was starstruck, but he quickly steadied himself.
„Ah, the brightest star of the Grand Line," he began, waving a perfectly manicured hand in Nami's direction. "If beauty were a treasure, you'd be richer than any pirate in the world."
Nami rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
Mario watched, amused, as Sanji took a step closer, lowering his voice dramatically, "Tell me, miss , would you like to dine under the stars tonight? I promise the only thing hotter than my cooking will be the company."
„That is Sanji for you... No dont get distracted."
There must be a way to get stronger, Mario thought, eyes narrowing as he scanned the crew around him. Should I train with Zoro? No. His training regime is insane — I don't think I'm ready for that level of brutality yet.
His mind flicked to Usopp. No, no matter how much I love the guy, he's... well, not exactly the strongest.Nami? In the upcoming arcs, she's crucial, but for she's busy navigating and not exactly a fighter.And Luffy? Gods no. The man's on another level altogether.
Mario exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. Then it hit him.
The Krieg Pirates are coming with their ship… maybe they have something there that could help me get stronger. But timing is everything.
Just as Sanji was about to speak further.
"I'm sorry for interrupting… Sanji, right? I'm the ship's Quartermaster, and we need to stockpile some provisions for our trip. Can you tell me who I could talk to about that?" Mario asked, eyeing the stranger cautiously.
Sanji blinked, clearly surprised. He flicked the cigarette away with a flick of his finger and crossed his arms. "Look, I'm just the cook here at the Baratie. I don't deal with supplies or crew matters. If you want stockpiles, you'll have to talk to the captain or the Quartermaster of the ship."
Mario raised an eyebrow.
Sanji's smirk returned. "I'm just here to make sure everyone eats well—nothing more, nothing less."
"Ok, that's my cue! You guys can enjoy the lunch—I'm going to get us some provisions," Mario said quickly, using the moment to slip away from the lively—but chaotic—group.
He didn't wait for a response. The tension in his chest was too thick to stay. Krieg's pirate crew was closing in fast, and Mario knew he had to prepare. He needed to hide, at least for now. He hated the idea of being cowardly, but there was no other choice.
If I can't help them now, maybe I can when I'm stronger.
****
The chaos had already begun. Don Krieg, towering in his gleaming golden armor, stood imposingly on one of the extended fins of the Baratie. His presence alone cast a shadow over the floating restaurant, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut.
Mario's heart pounded as he slipped silently off the side of the ship, plunging into the cold, dark waters. The distance between the Baratie and Krieg's massive ship felt endless as he swam with every ounce of strength he had.
Above him, the majority of Krieg's pirate crew were gathered on deck, their eyes fixed on the brewing confrontation below. Some shouted taunts, others brandished weapons, but all were waiting for their captain's orders.
Mario kept his head low, the waves crashing against him as he drew closer to the enemy ship. He needed to get aboard without being seen—his chance to find something, anything that could turn the tide.
As he neared the hull, a shadow loomed overhead—a lookout scanning the waters.
Mario froze, heart in his throat.
Not yet. Not now.
He dove deeper, slipping beneath the surface just in time, then surfaced on the opposite side of the ship where shadows provided cover.
This is it. No turning back now.
He needed to act fast. Soon, the world's greatest swordsman, Mihawk, would arrive—and when he did, he would split this ship in two without hesitation. By then, Mario had to be gone, or his life would be truly at risk.
Crouched in the dim shadows below deck, Mario searched and searched, eyes darting across crates and scattered belongings. To his growing disappointment, there was nothing of interest—no hidden treasure, no mysterious weapon, nothing that could help him get stronger.
What troubled him even more was the state of the ship itself. It was battered and worn, the scars of the Grand Line etched deep into its hull and sails. Even Krieg's notorious crew couldn't keep her in top shape.
He forced himself to keep moving, desperate to find anything—a map, a special weapon, even a strange artifact. But the clock was ticking, and Mihawk's arrival was fast approaching.
I can't stay here long. Not if I want to see another day.
Mario's soaked boots made soft squishing sounds on the creaking wood as he crept through the dark corridors of Krieg's battered ship. His breathing was shallow, his heart hammering in his chest like a war drum. Every shout from above, every creak of the ship, made him flinch—but he pressed on.
He had skillfully avoided the patrolling crew so far, ducking behind crates, slipping into shadows, and moving with a quiet urgency that surprised even himself.
Then he saw it.
At the far end of the corridor loomed a pair of tall, blackened steel-reinforced doors—the largest on the ship. The paint was chipped, the handle worn with use. On the center was an old but still-visible carving: a crude symbol of a skull — Don Krieg's emblem.
The captain's room.
There must be something in here.
He reached out, hand trembling slightly, and slowly turned the handle. It gave way with a soft click, and the door creaked open just enough for him to slip inside.
Luck was on his side.
The room was empty.
Silent.
But oppressive. Like the air itself knew it wasn't meant to be disturbed.
The walls were lined with shelves full of logbooks, damaged maps, spare pieces of gold-trimmed armor, and weapons—mostly broken. On the far end, a desk covered in charts and unopened letters stood beneath a grimy window. One corner of the room was completely devoted to a weapon rack filled with spears, flintlocks, and curved cutlasses.
Mario's eyes flicked across the room, absorbing it all.
Come on… there has to be something useful here. Anything.
He moved to the desk and began searching—carefully but quickly—knowing that time was running out.
Mihawk's coming.
Mario knew it.
He had only minutes left.
Above him, the deck rattled with movement—shouts of confusion, boots pounding wood, and the distant boom of cannon fire. The air felt heavy, electric. Mihawk was coming. Destruction was seconds away.
Mario rifled through the last drawer beneath Krieg's desk with shaking hands. His fingers brushed against old papers, dull trinkets, useless maps—then—
Something different.
A false bottom.
He tapped it. Hollow. Without hesitation, he pried it up—and there it was.
A black leather-bound book, worn but intact, wrapped tightly in aged, crimson cloth and sealed with a wax insignia: a mask over a downward-pointing sword.
Mario's eyes widened in disbelief.
No way... this can't be real.
He carefully pulled the book free and unwrapped it. The cover was plain, but inside—etched in precise, almost clinical script—were words that made his heart stop:
"Cipher Pol Zero – Advanced Combat Doctrine Rokushiki Mastery – Haki Integration – Covert Mobility – Absolute Control"
Mario was shocked to say the least.
The strongest Cipher Pol, above even CP9. A World Government black-ops unit so secretive that their full capabilities were unknown, even to most marines. Assassins. Ghosts. Enforcers of global power.
He had no idea why this was here or how but he was damn glad that it exists.
And now—he was holding their training manual.
He flipped a few pages—detailed diagrams of Soru, the explosive speed technique. Notes on Tekkai, the iron body. Charts on integrating Observation Haki into combat flow. Conditioning regimens that would break most men.
His breath caught in his throat.
This… this is it. This is how I can get stronger.
But then—the ship lurched violently.
A terrible CRACK echoed through the hull as the first blow from Dracule Mihawk's black blade cleaved through the Krieg ship's mast like paper.
Time's up.
Mario stuffed the manual inside his shirt, sealing it tight against his chest. He slammed the drawer shut, threw the false bottom back in place, and ran.
The ship was already beginning to tilt.
Water rushed in from the distant gash Mihawk had just carved. Pirates were screaming above—some calling for reinforcements, others fleeing blindly.
Mario sprinted down the corridor, feet slipping on the wet floor as he made for the water.
He didn't look back.
With a deep breath, he dived off the ship moments before a second slash tore through the hull, splitting the deck like a banana peel. Shards of wood rained into the ocean around him.
Underwater, he swam with everything he had—lungs burning, heart pounding, hands clutching the manual like it was life itself.
As he surfaced in the shadow of the Baratie, gasping for air, he whispered:
"…I found it."
He dragged himself onto a floating plank just in time to see Krieg's ship begin to sink into the dark, bubbling sea.
The Krieg pirates were finished.