…
After this round of maneuvering, the ones who suffered the most were still the small nations already being crushed under the weight of the Heavenly Tribute.
Although the World Government's more than 170 affiliated countries could be considered relatively stable regions in today's world, that didn't mean every nation was living in peace and prosperity.
Weak states with failing national strength and chronic budget deficits, as well as countries wracked by internal unrest, were far from rare.
Take, for example, the superpower whose situation had grown especially volatile this year—the Kingdom of Alabasta.
Not only had the capital been plagued by inexplicable drought for years on end, with no rain in sight,
but the scandal of the king secretly using the banned substance known as Dance Powder had also been exposed.
Rebel forces within the country grew stronger by the day, and civil war was on the brink of eruption.
With the nation itself already teetering on the edge of collapse, having to scrape together an enormous sum of Heavenly Tribute was nothing short of the final straw that broke the camel's back.
Sea Circle Calendar Year 1518.
Aside from the turmoil in Alabasta and the political games at the World Conference, another major event shook the seas.
The Spade Pirates, who had practically dominated headlines throughout all of 1517,
after failing in their challenge against Whitebeard, had actually joined the Whitebeard Pirates in their entirety—along with that super rookie, "Fire Fist" Ace.
And by the middle of that year, this monster-like newcomer once again lived up to his reputation.
At an astonishing speed, he took over the long-vacant position of Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.
As the captain of a combat division, this role invisibly elevated his status to stand shoulder to shoulder with veteran commanders like Marco and Jozu.
He became a brand-new banner of the Whitebeard Pirates.
For a time, the name Fire Fist Ace echoed throughout the entire New World.
If he had once been known merely as the strongest rookie,
then now he truly possessed the hard power needed to dominate a region of the New World.
Because of this, the young and hot-blooded retainers under Tenma grew intensely jealous, one after another clamoring to go find Ace and "have a match."
Naturally, all of these troublemakers were ruthlessly shut down by Robin, her face icy cold.
There would be plenty of chances to fight in the future.
For now, the most important thing was to let the situation proceed smoothly along the course Lord Tenma had laid out—there was no need to create unnecessary complications.
And so—
Time slipped by, swift as a white colt passing through a crack.
A year and a half passed without a sound.
The calendar turned to Sea Circle Calendar Year 1519.
All things in the world were changing subtly with the passage of time.
Human lifespans, appearances, even those intangible things like power and wealth—
none could escape the erosion of the years.
Only the three eternal concepts—
Inherited will, human dreams, and the tides of the era—
continued to surge unceasingly through the long river of history.
Whether it was the child of destiny waiting out the final half year in some obscure fishing village in the East Blue,
or the schemer lurking in the shadows aboard Whitebeard's ship, biding his time—
The New World remained the same.
Though it had already settled into a stable order ruled by the Four Emperors,
as the terminus of the Grand Line—and with the Marines' influence growing ever stronger—
countless desperadoes still flooded into these waters every single day.
Setting aside the occasional deadly clashes between the Emperors themselves,
in every stretch of the New World's seas, slaughter never truly ceased as fresh blood poured in.
Today was no exception.
In a sea area bordering Whitebeard Pirate territory—
Towering flames lit up the darkened ocean beneath heavy storm clouds.
A pirate ship had already been completely engulfed in roaring fire.
Its masts were snapped, the hull listing badly, as if it might sink beneath the waves at any moment.
Under relentless bombardment, the entire ship had become a massive torch.
Broken planks and severed limbs floated everywhere across the sea.
And upon that flame-devoured deck, the battle was already nearing its end.
Clang—!!!
A sharp, ear-splitting clash of steel rang out.
A man gripping a sword with both hands was overwhelmed by a force like a collapsing mountain, his body sent flying like a cannonball.
His back smashed heavily into the burning wall of the cabin, scattering sparks into the air.
Whether it was the scorching heat of the surrounding flames or sheer terror at the strength of the man before him—
Amidst the flying splinters, the man was drenched in sweat, barely managing to prop himself up with his trembling sword.
"Damn it!!"
Gazing at the utterly惨烈 scene around him—
at his companions lying in pools of blood,
at the dream ship reduced to ruin—
This man, the captain, let out a beast-like roar of despair.
"You bastards… you destroyed all of our dreams!!!"
With that desperate howl, he clenched his sword in both hands and lunged at his enemy like a mad tiger.
"Such a boring dream."
"You've only got yourselves to blame for being blind enough to pick a fight with the Whitebeard Pirates."
Facing this all-out suicidal strike, Thatch, commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' Fourth Division, remained utterly calm.
The muscles of his dual-wielding arms bulged with veins like coiling dragons—the pure concentration of raw power.
Carrying an overwhelming sword intent, he brought his blades crashing down on the charging figure.
—Shkrrch!
A nauseating tearing sound rang out.
The long sword the man cherished shattered into fragments the instant they collided.
The captain himself was cut cleanly in half at the waist, like a rag doll whose strings had been severed.
Blood sprayed like a fountain as the two halves of his body collapsed limply onto the deck, twitching a few times before going still.
Thatch expressionlessly flicked the blood from his blades, smoothly sheathing both swords.
He didn't even spare the defeated man a second glance, turning and walking away without pause.
Not long after the battle ended—
From the distant sky, a figure wrapped in flames streaked in like a meteor from another direction.
"Thatch!"
Seeing the flaming figure waving as he approached, the killing intent on Thatch's face instantly vanished.
It was replaced by a hearty grin.
"Oh! Ace, huh? I've already wrapped things up on my end."
"Ah… what a shame."
Ace landed on the deck, the flames around him fading, his face full of disappointment.
After more than a year together, Thatch, as his close friend, understood Ace's personality perfectly.
He laughed helplessly and said,
"Hey, hey—what are you so disappointed about? Shouldn't you be celebrating your buddy's big win instead?"
"You took care of everything by yourself. Doesn't that mean I ran all this way for nothing? I didn't even get a proper warm-up," Ace pouted.
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