Early the next morning, Teach was ready to set off.
He knew the New World's map by heart, the famous islands, the strongholds of the great powers, the routes that carved through contested seas.
To reach Wano, he'd have to cross at least sixteen islands and four nations, and that was without counting unexpected detours or nameless rocks that dotted the seas.
Even with luck, the trip would take three months.
A small boat was all he carried, stocked with supplies and guided by an Eternal Pose. No farewells, no ceremony, Teach slipped out alone.
The sun blazed high, the sea sparkled, and the wind was kind.
Perfect weather.
Standing at the bow, Teach looked across the endless horizon. His heart raced, part nerves, part thrill. This was his first solo voyage, the kind of challenge he had always longed for.
Adventure. Mystery. The unknown.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the weight of a Den Den Mushi. Whitebeard had thrust it into his arms before departure. "If you're in real trouble, call us. Or if you just get lonely, brat, tell us your stories."
But this was Teach's trial. His voyage.
The New World wasn't kind. Without a skilled navigator, one storm could spell doom.
Sure enough, the skies turned within hours. Clouds boiled together, and rain hammered down like bullets, swallowing the sunlight. The boat creaked and groaned under the weight of the storm.
Teach bailed water by hand, laughing through the spray. "Zehahaha! If this keeps up, the sea'll swallow me whole!"
He rowed hard, oars biting into black waves, keeping his craft pointed forward. The rain hammered for hours before breaking. But the reprieve didn't last.
The air grew colder. Then came the hail.
Great shards of ice, each one big enough to shatter planks, plunged from the sky.
"Yasakani no Magatama!"
Teach's claws blazed with lightning and flame. He slashed the air again and again, shredding hail before it could smash the boat to splinters. Ice hissed into steam above his head, dissolving before it could touch him.
His fingers were no longer just fingers. Through Life Return, his body bent to his will, knuckles stretching, nails sharpening, palms widening into true claws.
Add Armament Haki, and they became demonic weapons.
It was the fruit of months of discipline. Notes stolen from the Navy's Six Powers, long nights of training, and his Hunter-like obsession with control. He had forced his body into something more, not unlike the 'sword is the man' philosophy of swordsmen, but for his hands. Man as claw.
Twenty minutes he fought, shattering hail at the rate of twenty strikes a second. By the time the clouds broke, he was soaked in sweat, gasping, his muscles screaming. And still the New World showed no mercy.
The sky blackened again. Lightning split the horizon. Waves rose, tossing the little boat like driftwood.
Teach gritted his teeth. This was the price of sailing without a navigator. Where the Moby Dick had slipped around danger with ease, here every cloud, every current was a trial.
He rowed on, veins straining under soaked clothes, every muscle burning. But he didn't yield.
Loneliness pressed down as heavy as the storm, but Teach had lived with it all his life. Training in silence, waiting in the dark. He endured.
Then the sea itself seemed to roar.
A shadow circled beneath the boat. Vast. Ancient.
The waters heaved, and a Sea King rose. A serpent, scales glistening, eyes burning, three hundred meters tall. It opened its maw, teeth like towers, tongue lashing.
"Zehahaha… come, then!"
The serpent lunged.
"GET LOST!"
Teach's eyes flared. Conqueror's Haki erupted, crashing over the beast like a storm of will.
The Sea King froze mid-lunge, eyes rolling white. With a thunderous splash, its titanic body toppled back into the waves, sinking into the abyss.
Silence returned, broken only by the slap of waves. Teach's heart thundered. That was his first real test of Conqueror's Haki and it had answered.
His spirit was stronger than ever.
The storm dragged on, but Teach rowed through it, never faltering. When the Eternal Pose held true, he let the boat drift forward, training even in the chaos.
Weights strapped to his arms and legs, one ton each, dragged against every push-up, every stroke of the oar. Six tons in total, hidden beneath soaked cloth. Training never stopped, storm or not.
Hours passed. Then, at last, the sky broke. Sunlight flooded the sea, painting it gold. The ocean sparkled, endless and magnificent.
Teach stood tall in the little boat, chest heaving, eyes bright.
Ahead, the outline of an island broke the horizon.
Day one of his solitary voyage was complete.