If they stayed holed up in the Sphinx Sea day after day, living out their retirement without stirring up trouble, pillaging, or wreaking havoc on the seas—then when would the Dark-Dark Fruit he dreamed of ever appear?
After all, the very reason Teach had gone to such lengths to worm his way onto this ship was because of Whitebeard's vast power network and the crew's exceptionally high rate of acquiring Devil Fruits!
At first, he'd maintained a Buddhist-like mindset of "if it's meant to be, it will be; if not, so be it."
But over these past few years, Tenma's meteoric and domineering rise had been like a brutal slap across his face, violently awakening the ambition he'd let lie dormant.
Looking at the Whitebeard before him now—ravaged by illness and growing weaker by the day—the admiration in Teach's heart had long since curdled into something else.
What replaced it was a poisonous resentment born of frustration and disappointment.
Since you're destined to exit the stage of this era anyway… then why not let me take over the Quake-Quake Fruit and reforge this supreme glory myself?!
Teach lowered his head. Hidden within the shadows, his eyes flickered with a dangerous, icy gleam.
And all of this went completely unnoticed by Whitebeard, who was immersed in the newspaper headlines.
Whitebeard's gaze rested on the massive photo splashed across the front page—a young face beneath a cowboy hat.
He couldn't help but sigh.
"So… another ignorant brat who doesn't know how high the sky is, huh."
Hearing their father speak, the sons around him immediately chimed in.
"You mean Fire Fist, right, Pops? We heard he just rejected an offer to become a Warlord, and even slipped away from Marine hero Garp. His bounty shot up by another hundred million Berries!"
At the mention of Garp, the veteran pirates present all felt their hearts tighten.
That was a monster who had once chased Pirate King Roger all across the seas.
Satch, who hadn't yet had time to read the paper, widened his eyes in disbelief.
"Escaped from that old freak? That rookie's got some real substance then. Looks like he's planning to charge straight into the New World?"
Marco shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning lazily against the railing.
"There were sightings near Fish-Man Island a while back. By now, he's probably already been sailing in the New World for several days."
Whitebeard listened to his sons' discussion, the corner of his mouth curling into a disdainful sneer.
"A kid who's barely been at sea and already rushing for quick success—he won't amount to much."
He knew Garp's strength better than most.
For that brat to have escaped purely on his own merits—unless that old bastard Garp had deliberately gone easy on him, there was no way.
And yet, as Whitebeard's eyes returned to the name Ace and that face in the newspaper, an inexplicable sense of familiarity welled up inside him.
That feeling of déjà vu was like glimpsing a certain detestable old rival across time itself.
Suddenly, a spark of insight flashed through Whitebeard's mind.
Ace…
If he remembered correctly, Roger—that bastard—had treasured a sword named Ace as well.
Once this seemingly absurd association formed, it refused to go away.
Whitebeard stared at the photo for a long moment—then suddenly threw his head back and laughed.
"Gurararara! Interesting! Boys—keep a close eye on this brat's movements for me!"
Hearing that hearty laughter, the division commanders exchanged looks.
In all these years, this was the first time their father had shown such keen interest in a rookie who had only just set sail.
And so, at Whitebeard's command, his intelligence network began operating at full throttle.
Meanwhile, in the far northern reaches of the New World, on an island locked in eternal ice and snow—
Howling winds roared as goose-feather snow poured down from the gloomy sky like shredded cotton.
The biting cold cut like knives.
Outside a cave somewhere on the ice island, the pirates standing guard shivered violently, even wrapped in thick winter coats, desperately tucking their necks into their collars.
Yet just one wall deeper into the cave, it was a completely different world.
Orange-red flames crackled in a blazing bonfire, driving away all chill, while the clinking of cups echoed endlessly.
"So you're Ace, huh? How's Luffy doing these days?"
Red-Haired Shanks, bold and hearty, passed a brimming mug of rum to the young man across from him, his eyes filled with concern for the straw-hatted boy.
Ace accepted the cup, a trace of nostalgia flashing across his face before his gaze hardened with resolve.
"That idiot's still shouting about becoming Pirate King every day. But at this rate—"
"—the Pirate King's throne will definitely be mine first."
Hearing this youthful, fiery declaration, Shanks didn't get angry at all.
Instead, he broke into an approving, hearty laugh.
"Hahaha! That's the spirit! Pirates of the new era should have that kind of wild ambition! I've got high hopes for both you brothers!"
After several rounds of drinking, Ace suddenly set his cup down, his eyes burning as he stared at Shanks.
"Mr. Shanks—since we're all aiming for that position… as one of the Four Emperors, don't you have any thoughts about it?"
In Ace's understanding, ONE PIECE was merely the finish line.
To truly claim the title of Pirate King, one had to defeat the Four Emperors standing in the way—one by one.
"Pirate King, huh…"
A subtle ripple passed through Shanks' eyes, as though he'd fallen into some distant memory.
Then he gently shook his head.
"Compared to that empty title, I have more important things to accomplish now."
"I see…"
Ace nodded, wisely choosing not to press further.
For him, the pursuit of Pirate King wasn't about power or treasure—it was about finding the meaning of his own existence in this world, and following the path once walked by that man.
"Ah, enough of these heavy topics!"
Shanks suddenly laughed it off, raising his cup again.
"Anyway, you're bound to challenge the Four Emperors sooner or later. When the time comes, for Luffy's sake… I might even go easy on you."
The previously heavy atmosphere instantly shattered.
Ace grinned broadly.
"Then you might have to wait a while. On my schedule, you're actually last."
He stood up, battle intent blazing in his eyes like fire.
"Before that, I'll go pay a visit to the Flying Sky General—or Whitebeard himself—and use them as stepping stones to make my name in the New World!"
The banquet ended, and the group stepped out of the warm cave.
The moment they entered the blizzard, the members of the Spade Pirates—bundled in thick coats—immediately began shivering, their teeth chattering uncontrollably.
In contrast, Ace at the front—thanks to the Flame-Flame Fruit and the fire coursing through his body—looked completely unfazed, despite being dressed more lightly than anyone else.
Standing amid the wind and snow, he turned back toward the cave entrance and waved goodbye.
"Then we part ways here! Once again, thank you for saving my brother's life!"
"A small matter," Shanks replied with a smile. "Good luck carving out your name in the New World!"
Shanks watched with a gentle smile as the young figures disappeared into the vast snowy mountains, before turning back toward the lively camp behind him.
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