The joy and uproar of a wedding would, in the end, settle with time into nothing more than memory.
After parting ways at Baltigo, two more years slipped by.
These two years were the most leisurely, and the most boring, two years Kael had lived since crossing over.
The monstrous waves stirred up by the battle at Mary Geoise had, after the World Government's paper-thin "explanation," strangely calmed for real.
There was no expected Buster Call. No insane retaliation. The Navy did not even increase patrols around Sabaody by much.
The world was as if it had forcibly forgotten that night.
Under Kael's instruction and Caron's meticulous control, the underground industries spread across the world entered full silent-hibernation mode.
They were like massive beasts diving into the deep sea, drawing in every claw and fang, lying perfectly still, waiting for the next command to stir the heavens and churn the tides.
The seas remained lively. Rookie pirates poured into the Grand Line like a ceaseless swarm of fish crossing a river, chasing their dreams and ambitions.
But none of that had anything to do with Sabaody.
This place was the end of the first half of the Grand Line, the unavoidable gateway to the New World.
Every day, countless pirate ships docked here to get coated and resupplied.
Yet strangely, this island chain, once a lawless mess, had become the "most peaceful" harbor on the entire route.
Over time, an unspoken rule took root in every pirate's heart the moment they set foot here.
On Sabaody, do not draw steel.
The reason was simple.
The owner of this island was that man.
Wave King, Aaron Kael.
No one wanted to find out what would happen if they caused trouble and attracted his attention.
After all, becoming fertilizer for the Yarukiman Mangroves was not a death worth bragging about.
…
"Bastard! What the hell are you staring at? Look again and I'll dig your eyeballs out!"
Outside a bar in Grove 24, a rising rookie captain from the North Blue, freshly infamous with a 30,000,000 berri bounty, was screaming at a hulking thug with a face full of meat and malice.
The big man grinned, flashing a mouth full of gold teeth, his right hand already resting on the handle of the axe at his waist.
The atmosphere inside the bar froze instantly. Everyone stopped what they were doing. The air reeked of gunpowder.
Bang!
The door was kicked open. A man in a black suit and sunglasses walked in.
He did not even glance at the two captains ready to kill each other. He went straight to the counter and tossed down a gold coin.
"Boss. Two cups of rum. Deliver them to Entrance Three on the west side of the Crucible."
Only then did he turn slowly, the gaze behind those sunglasses sweeping over the two pirates.
"Want to fight?" His voice was flat, but the temperature in the entire bar seemed to drop. "Sabaody welcomes the brave. It doesn't welcome idiots."
The rookie captain's face flushed green, then white. Of course he'd heard the rules, but youth ran hot, and he'd always believed rules were made to be broken.
"I…"
"If you want to prove you're stronger, go to the Crucible." The man in black pointed toward the center of the islands. "Plenty of space there to decide life and death. Win, and you can take his head, and you'll get a fat cut of the ticket money too. And if you're lucky…"
He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting into a meaningful curve.
"…Kael-sama or Caron-sama might take notice of you. One step, and you're in the sky."
That sentence was like a bucket of ice water dumped over the rookie's fury.
One step to the heavens.
To any pirate with ambition, those four words were pure poison and pure temptation.
He glanced at the gold-toothed brute. The murderous glare in the other man's eyes had already turned into greed and battle lust.
"Fine!" the gold-toothed brute snorted, pulling his hand away from the axe and striding out. "I'll twist your worthless head off in the Crucible!"
The rookie captain gave a cold laugh and followed.
A street brawl dissolved into nothing.
The bar patrons were used to it. They went back to drinking and bragging as if nothing had happened.
That was Sabaody now.
And the "Crucible" they spoke of was Caron's proudest creation over the past two years.
A colossal arena standing at the center of the archipelago, capable of holding a hundred thousand people.
If you couldn't let pirates slaughter each other openly on the streets, then you provided an official, legal dueling platform that also printed absurd profits.
That was Caron's business logic.
Here, you could apply for a "standard duel," stopping short of killing, turning hostility into reconciliation.
Or you could sign a life-or-death contract and enter a "bloody death match" where only one walked out.
Every duel sold tickets. The winner took twenty percent of the total ticket revenue as prize money.
Blood, violence, money, opportunity.
These elements fused perfectly, turning the Crucible into Sabaody's hottest attraction.
Countless pirates, bounty hunters, and thrill-seekers swarmed in just to watch the brutal, bone-crunching slaughter up close.
More importantly, rumor said the island's master, Wave King Kael, would occasionally appear in the top-floor private box to look down upon the fights.
That single rumor became the most feverish dream of every bottom-tier striver.
…
At the very top level of the Crucible, inside a luxurious private box with an excellent view.
Kael lay sprawled on a soft couch, legs propped shamelessly on the low table in front of him, a skewer of freshly grilled takoyaki still in hand.
His lazy gaze drifted down to the massive circular arena below, where two Devil Fruit users were locked in a chaotic fight.
One man could sprout bone spikes all over his body, and he was chasing another opponent whose body stretched like dough.
Spikes flew. Dough whipped around.
The spectacle was absurdly comical.
Pfft.
Kael spat out a bamboo skewer, landing it perfectly in the trash bin in the distance.
"Caron."
"Yes, Kael-sama."
Behind him, Caron stood in a pristine suit, hair combed razor-neat, bowing slightly.
In his hands was a tablet crammed with dense data.
"This quarter, the Crucible's ticket sales, merchandise, and paid online broadcasts, after all costs and staffing expenses, produced a net profit of 2.7 billion berri. That's an eight percent increase over last quarter."
Caron's tone did not ripple even slightly, as if he were reporting the weather.
"Mmm." Kael grabbed another skewer of octopus balls. "That bone-spike guy's kind of interesting. Mark him down. Keep an eye on him."
Without changing expression, Caron made a note on the tablet. "Understood."
"And," Caron continued, "Lord Donquixote Doflamingo sent word. He's taken interest in last week's death match winner, a swordsman called 'Demon Slash.' He wants to transfer him to Dressrosa as a coliseum gladiator."
"Let him handle it." Kael waved a hand. "Don't come to me with every little thing."
"Yes."
Below, the fight was nearing its end.
The bone-spike man seized an opening. His spikes surged wildly, pinning the dough man to the wall, then he slammed in with a headbutt and ended it.
The arena exploded with roaring cheers.
The victorious bone-spike man was drenched in blood. He did not care. He lifted his head at once, using every bit of strength to stare up at the legendary top-floor box, eyes brimming with longing and desperate hope.
But Kael did not even lift his eyelids.
He simply looked at Caron standing respectfully beside him and suddenly smiled.
"Taking pirate bloodshed and wrapping it into a grand commercial spectacle. Turning survival-of-the-fittest jungle law into a profit chain that never stops. You even rolled out paid livestreams and cross-border underground betting so that rich bastards around the world can throw money at Sabaody's fighters…"
Kael sat up and patted Caron's shoulder.
"Caron, you're a damn genius."
The praise came straight from the heart.
Kael knew he was built to be a hands-off boss, but Caron could take an idea Kael tossed out casually and turn it into something this massive, this precise, and this violently profitable.
When it came to professional work, you really did need professionals.
Caron's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Then he bowed deeply, and for the first time, his voice carried a faint trace of emotion.
"Sharing your burdens is my honor."
"Alright, alright. Don't do that." Kael waved him off, then flopped back onto the couch and stretched with a huge yawn.
He stared out at the unchanging blue sky and white clouds beyond the window and let out a long sigh.
"Ah… so boring."
"Nothing big has happened at all?"
"Did those old bastards in the World Government really decide to cultivate inner peace and retire as a group?"
These two calm years had almost made him forget the taste of slaughter.
He felt like all his parts were rusting.
He needed some fun.
And this world never let his expectations sit unfulfilled for too long.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Don't forget to add this story to your Library, drop a review, and leave a Power Stone if you enjoyed it!
If you're itching to see what happens next, check out the advanced chapters on my Patron!
[email protected]/_theon
Change @ to "a"