“Extra! Extra!”
“Red Count Baroric Ledfield captured by the Navy on Shaitan Island in the New World for killing a Celestial Dragon.”
“Breaking news: The infamous Red Count, on par with Whitebeard and Golden Lion, was captured by Navy hero Garp two days ago in the New World.”
The world was shaken. Countless news birds spread the news far and wide. Whether navy, kingdoms or even commoners, everyone spent 100 Berries buying a newspaper.
The reported event was like a bombshell, igniting awe and disbelief in gossiping hearts.
“How is this possible? The Red Count was captured by the Navy?”
“He’s a monster on par with Whitebeard.”
“After fighting Fleet Admiral Kong for ten days and nights, he was captured by Navy hero Garp due to exhaustion.”
“Even the Red Count fell to the Navy. It’s said that the Navy’s three monster vice admirals have recently captured many pirates with bounties over a billion.”
Many pirate crews read the report with apprehension.
The Navy was at an all-time high, led by Fleet Admiral Kong, with Admirals Buddha Sengoku and Black Arm Zephyr, the hero Garp who chased the Pirate King, and the capable strategist Crane. The three Logia monster vice admirals were especially noteworthy.
Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan…
The capture of the Red Count undoubtedly boosted the Navy’s reputation, making it the most powerful force on the seas.
South Blue, Baterilla Island
A simple, almost isolated island facing the sea, nestled among mountains. A small two-story courtyard stood there.
The sea breeze blew gently; white clouds drifted slowly across the sky.
Sunlight sparkled on the sea, creating a shimmering effect.
Under a large tree, a broad-shouldered figure faced away from the courtyard, laughing as he read the newspaper.
“Well, that’s unexpected.”
Wearing a high-collared, plain trench coat, his face was honest and cheerful, with a distinctive, funny mustache. His eyes sparkled with vitality and courage, though his face looked somewhat pale.
This man was Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King the Navy had long sought to capture.
His true name was Gol D. Roger.
The name issue was partly due to the interference of the World Government.
It had been a year since he became the Pirate King. Roger had retired here for unknown reasons, and the infamous Roger Pirates had long disbanded.
Sitting cross-legged on the grass, Roger couldn’t help but cough as he read the newspaper.
“The wind is strong outside.”
A gentle voice called out. A woman in a white dress, with long, golden wavy hair, a red hibiscus hairpin, and a beautiful face with a few freckles, exuding wisdom and gentleness, stood behind Roger, a hint of reproach in her tone.
This woman was very beautiful, especially with a calming presence that seemed to soothe the soul.
“Rouge.”
Turning around, Roger smiled, his eyes full of love.
Seeing Roger’s pale face, Rouge’s pretty face showed a trace of concern.
Holding Rouge’s delicate hand, Roger embraced her. Now, he wasn’t the awe-inspiring Pirate King but an ordinary man in love.
“I’m pregnant.”
Sitting in Roger’s lap, Rouge looked back at Roger’s stubbled face, smiling like a blooming rose, the most beautiful smile in the world.
Roger was momentarily stunned, and then a special energy enveloped Rouge’s belly. Feeling the tiny life within, he became flustered.
“I’m… going to be a father?”
Excited, happy, and joyful, Roger laughed like a child.
“Yes, you’re going to be a father, and I’m going to be a mother.”
Looking down, Rouge touched her belly, her eyes full of affection.
After the excitement, the two nestled together, Roger holding Rouge as they gazed at the blue sea. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he inhaled the familiar scent of her hair, wishing this moment could last forever.
“Let’s name the child.”
Holding Roger’s hands, Rouge leaned against him.
“If it’s a girl, we’ll name her Ann. If it’s a boy, we’ll name him Ace.”
“Gol D. Ann, Gol D. Ace.”
“Yes, Ann and Ace.”
Roger’s face was full of smiles, more nervous and excited than ever.
“Will you be able to see him born?”
Rouge’s gaze rippled as she looked at the horizon.
Roger fell silent; then his face darkened slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Rouge said nothing, just leaned against Roger, cherishing this precious time.
New World, on the turbulent sea, aboard a giant whale-shaped pirate ship flying a skull flag with an upward-curving white mustache.
The Moby Dick, the ship of Whitebeard, is the man known as the strongest after the death of Gol D. Roger. For the next 20 years, this would be his era.
In this sea area, any pirate crew that accidentally stumbled upon the sight of the flag would turn tail and flee without hesitation.
“Gurararara… Baroric.”
A deep, hearty laugh, full of vigor and dominance, came from the deck of the Moby Dick. A tall man with a giant sake cup gulped down some strong liquor, laughing as he read the newspaper.
With long, flowing blond hair and a massive, muscular chest covered with old scars, his crescent-shaped, upward-curving mustache was the most noticeable feature.
“Old man, the Red Count was captured after fighting Fleet Admiral Kong for ten days and nights. He was exhausted when Garp captured him. The World Government still loves to distort the truth, hiding Kong’s defeat.”
Beside him, a tall, slender man with short blond punk hair, a dagger at his waist, and the Whitebeard Pirates’ tattoo on his chest folded the newspaper with disdain.
He was Marco the Phoenix, the first division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.
“The World Government has always been like that, nothing surprising.”
Next to Marco was a burly, dark-skinned young man with a muscular build and a fierce appearance.
He was Diamond Jozu, the third division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.
“Gurararara…”
Standing up, Whitebeard moved to the railing, looking out at the boundless sea, lost in thought.
Behind him, Marco and the others were puzzled, feeling that something was off with their father today.
At the same time, high in the sky, above an unknown sea, islands floated like castles in the air, and waterfalls cascading down created a paradise-like scene.
On the edge of the central island, a man with long, flowing golden hair like a lion’s mane, a ship’s wheel on his head, looked at the newspaper, puffing on a cigar, gazing over the sky and sea like a king.
New World, on a stormy island, at the mountain’s peak.
A gust of wind suddenly exposed a figure cloaked in a deep green coat. In a flash of lightning, a fierce-looking man with no eyebrows and red square tattoos on his left face discarded the newspaper, gazing into the distance.
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