The sea was calm that morning.
Soft waves moved along the coast of a small island in the Grand Line. Gulls circled above the harbor while merchants called out to dockworkers unloading rice, tools, clothes, and other supplies from several ships.
Children ran through the streets.
Fishermen returned from the sea.
Shopkeepers opened their doors one by one.
Nothing seemed unusual.
But above the tallest building in town, two flags fluttered together in the wind.
One was the familiar flag of the Whitebeard Pirates.
The other was the black flag of the ART Pirates.
They flew side by side.
For decades, the Whitebeard flag had protected this island. Its presence had been enough to keep most enemies away, allowing the people to live without constantly looking over their shoulders.
But Whitebeard was dead.
The news had changed everything.
Other islands that had once lived under his protection had already been attacked. Some had lost contact with the remaining Whitebeard Pirates. Others had been taken by pirates looking for territory in the chaos left behind by the world's greatest pirate's death.
This island had feared it would be next.
Until the ART Pirates' envoy arrived.
They had not replaced Whitebeard.
They had simply raised their own flag beside his.
The remaining Whitebeard forces continued to guard the island, but their numbers were smaller than before. With ART's protection added to theirs, however, the island had slowly regained its sense of security.
There were no ART ships in the harbor.
No black-sailed patrols surrounded the island.
No ART soldiers stood on the streets.
Yet their flag alone had changed the way people traveled through these waters.
Merchant ships had started returning.
Fishing boats were sailing farther from the coast again.
Criminals who might once have considered attacking the island now thought twice.
More merchant routes had begun to open.
More ships were passing through waters that had once been avoided.
Near the edge of the harbor, an old fisherman sat on a wooden crate and watched the busy port.
His name was Garon.
He had lived on the island for more than sixty years. He remembered when the harbor had been almost empty and every merchant ship had needed guards before it could safely unload its cargo.
He still remembered the day Whitebeard first gave the island his protection.
For most of Garon's life, that protection had been enough.
Now, he looked at the two flags above the town.
A young dockworker sat down beside him.
"Things are getting busy again," the young man said.
Garon nodded.
"They are."
"That's because of the ART flag, isn't it?"
"Partly."
The young man looked toward the harbor.
"More and more islands are flying it now."
Garon remained silent.
The young man frowned.
"So ART Pirates are gaining more territory."
"Looks like it."
"That's not comforting."
A woman standing nearby overheard them and folded her arms.
"Why not? They're protecting places like ours."
"Today," the shopkeeper replied.
He looked toward the sea.
"What about tomorrow?"
The conversation became quieter.
Nobody answered.
The arrival of ART had brought safety, but it had also created new questions.
How many people were actually part of the ART Pirates?
How quickly could they send help if an island came under attack?
And how many islands had already been placed under Arthur's protection?
The answers were unclear.
The newspapers rarely gave reliable information about the Emperor's crew. Even the World Government seemed uncertain about the full size of ART's forces.
Garon understood something the younger people did not.
Protection was not the same as safety.
Power could change hands.
And when it did, everything could change with it.
A bell suddenly rang from the harbor tower.
Everyone looked toward the sound.
A Whitebeard guard stood near the end of the pier, staring toward the open sea. His hand rested on the sword at his waist.
"What is it?" one of the dockworkers asked.
The guard did not answer immediately.
He watched the horizon for several seconds before finally shaking his head.
"Nothing in my eyes."
The people slowly returned to work.
Garon watched the guard lower his hand.
"Even the Whitebeard Pirates are nervous," the young man beside him said.
"They have reason to be."
"Do you think someone will attack us?"
Garon looked up at the two flags.
"I don't know."
The young man gave an uneasy smile.
"But ART is protecting us now."
Garon slowly stood.
"Protection is not the same as safety."
The young man looked at him.
"Why?"
Garon kept his eyes on the sea.
"Because the sea never stays quiet for long."
A strong breeze swept across the harbor.
The Whitebeard flag opened wide.
The ART flag billowed beside it.
For a moment, the entire town seemed to move beneath the shadow of both symbols.
Far below the island, where no ordinary person could reach, a faint mechanical sound echoed through the darkness.
A low hum.
Then silence.
Nobody on the surface noticed.
Not yet.
The merchants continued working.
The town continued its morning routine, unaware of what was coming.
Less than an hour later, the warning bell rang again.
This time, it did not stop after a single note.
A lookout on the harbor tower quickly raised his telescope.
He had been watching the sea since the earlier alarm, but the horizon had remained empty.
Then he saw something.
A dark shape in the distance.
At first, it looked like a small cloud resting above the water.
He adjusted the telescope.
The shape became clearer.
A ship.
A black flag.
The lookout's expression changed.
He lowered the telescope and looked again with his own eyes.
There was no mistake.
A large pirate ship was moving toward the island.
"Pirate ship approaching!"
His voice echoed across the harbor.
People stopped what they were doing.
Dockworkers turned toward the sea.
Merchants stepped away from their cargo.
Garon looked up.
"Which pirates?" he called.
The lookout raised his telescope again.
His face became pale.
"Lion Pirates!"
The people around him froze.
"The captain is Leo the Lion! He ate the Cat-Cat Fruit, Model: Lion! His bounty is three hundred million Berries!"
The peaceful mood of the harbor disappeared.
Some people immediately began moving toward the town.
Others stood frozen, watching the dark vessel grow larger.
The Whitebeard guards reacted at once.
"Everyone away from the docks!" their leader shouted.
"Move the civilians into shelters!"
"Get the women and children to safety first!"
Dockworkers abandoned their cargo and ran.
Merchants pulled down their shop doors.
Parents grabbed their children and hurried away from the waterfront.
Garon remained where he was for a moment.
The young man beside him stared at the approaching ship.
"Do you think they're here because of the territory?"
Garon's expression hardened.
"Probably."
The pirate ship continued forward.
Its black sails carried a strange skull symbol that none of the islanders recognized.
Then another ship appeared behind it.
And another.
The harbor fell silent.
The young man swallowed.
"That's not one ship."
Garon looked at the growing fleet.
"No."
His voice was low.
"It's an attack."
The Whitebeard guards gathered at the end of the pier.
Their leader, a broad man named Doran, stepped forward and studied the approaching fleet. He immediately understood the danger.
"How many?"
"At least six ships," one of the guards answered.
Doran's eyes narrowed.
"Raise the warning signal."
The guard hesitated.
"Our signal or the ART signal?"
"Both."
The guard quickly ran toward the signal tower.
Moments later, a second warning bell rang across the island.
This time, there was no confusion.
The island was under attack.
Doran turned toward his men.
"Close the harbor."
"But there are still civilians near the docks."
"Then get them out first."
The streets immediately became crowded.
Merchants abandoned their stalls.
Parents grabbed their children.
Dockworkers rushed away from the waterfront.
The Whitebeard guards moved toward the defensive positions around the harbor.
Doran looked toward the sea.
"Prepare the cannons!"
Several guards ran toward the coastal batteries.
Heavy cannons were pulled into position.
Their crews loaded them with cannonballs.
Across the water, the Lion Pirates continued advancing.
The distance between the fleet and the island slowly disappeared.
Then one of the pirate ships fired.
BOOM!
The cannonball flew across the sea.
It crashed into the water several meters from the harbor, sending a tall column of seawater into the air.
Doran raised his hand.
"Wait."
Another pirate ship fired.
Then another.
Cannonballs began raining across the sea.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The island shook with every explosion.
Some cannonballs struck the outer defensive wall.
Others splashed harmlessly into the water.
The Whitebeard guards waited.
"Hold!"
Doran watched the approaching fleet.
The pirate ships were still outside the most effective range.
"Wait..."
The enemy fleet moved closer.
"Now!"
Doran dropped his hand.
"FIRE!"
The island's cannons roared.
BOOOOOOM!
A line of cannon fire crossed the sea.
One cannonball struck the bow of the leading pirate ship.
Wood exploded from the impact.
The ship tilted sharply.
"Direct hit!"
The defenders cheered.
Another volley followed.
Two more cannonballs struck the side of another ship, tearing through its hull.
"Keep firing!"
The coastal batteries continued their attack.
For a moment, the defenders gained confidence.
The pirate fleet slowed.
One ship turned away from the harbor after suffering heavy damage.
Another had smoke rising from its deck.
"Don't let them get closer!"
The Whitebeard guards continued firing.
But then the pirate fleet answered.
A deeper roar came from the sea.
The Lion Pirates had begun firing all at once.
Dozens of cannonballs crossed the distance.
The sky seemed to fill with black shapes.
"Incoming!"
The first impact destroyed one of the island's coastal cannons.
The second smashed into the defensive wall.
The third exploded near a group of guards, throwing several men onto the ground.
"Medic!"
"Get the wounded out!"
"Keep firing!"
The defenders refused to stop.
Another volley was fired from the island.
One pirate ship lost part of its mast.
Another had its sail torn apart.
But the enemy fleet kept moving.
There were simply too many ships.
Doran stared at the sea.
"They're using the damaged ships as cover..."
The pirate vessels at the front took the brunt of the island's fire while the ships behind them continued advancing.
"They're pushing through!"
A cannonball struck the harbor wall.
The ground shook beneath Doran's feet.
Another explosion followed.
Then another.
The defensive position began to collapse.
"Move the cannons back!"
"It's too late!"
A large section of the outer harbor wall broke apart.
The pirate fleet was almost at the entrance.
Doran clenched his teeth.
"Everyone prepare for boarding!"
The cannons fell silent one by one.
The remaining defenders drew their weapons.
The pirate ships entered the harbor.
Their crews gathered along the decks.
Guns were raised.
Swords were drawn.
Doran shouted:
"Don't let them reach the town!"
The first pirate ship crashed against the damaged harbor barrier.
Wood splintered.
Pirates jumped from the deck.
The Whitebeard guards charged forward to meet them.
Steel clashed against steel.
The battle had finally reached the harbor.
For a few minutes, the defenders managed to hold their ground.
But more pirates continued pouring from the ships.
One wave.
Then another.
Then another.
The number of enemies kept growing.
Doran cut down one attacker and immediately turned toward the next.
"Push them back!"
His men obeyed.
But their formation was already beginning to break.
A pirate slammed into one of the guards and sent him crashing into a stack of crates.
Another attacker broke through the left side.
Then another.
"Doran!"
The guard leader turned.
The left flank had collapsed.
"Fall back!"
"We can't!"
"Fall back to the town!"
The retreat of the Whitebeard guards did not mean the island had no plan left.
Long before the attack, the people had prepared emergency shelters deep within the forests and mountains. Hidden paths connected the town to several safe areas, where food, water, medicine, and blankets had already been stored.
It had been a precaution they hoped they would never need.
Now, they needed it.
"Everyone! Follow the evacuation routes!"
A town official shouted through the streets.
"Leave the town! Do not use the main road!"
"Take the children first!"
The people obeyed.
Parents pulled their children along. Old people were helped onto carts, while others carried only small bags containing whatever they could grab before fleeing.
Smoke was already rising above the harbor.
The sounds of pirates breaking into buildings followed them from behind.
"Keep moving!" Whitebeard guards shouted as they guided the civilians toward the forest.
Several narrow paths led from different parts of the town into the trees. The evacuation plan had been designed to prevent the entire population from gathering in one place.
The people moved deeper into the forest.
Every distant explosion made them quicken their steps.
A little girl suddenly stumbled.
"Mom..."
"Are you hurt?" Her mother stopped and caught her.
"My legs hurt."
The woman crouched down, then lifted her daughter onto her back.
"Then I'll carry you."
"Are we going home?" The girl rested her head against her mother's shoulder.
"Yes. After the bad pirates leave." The mother looked toward the smoke above the trees.
"What about my doll?" The girl was quiet for a moment.
"You left it?"
The girl nodded.
The mother forced a small smile.
"Then we'll get it later."
"You promise?"
"I promise." The woman tightened her arms around her daughter.
She knew she might not be able to keep that promise.
But for now, it was enough.
A few paths away, an elderly man was helped through the forest by his grandson.
"Grandfather, you're bleeding."
"It's nothing," the old man said with a weak laugh. "Just don't tell your grandmother."
The boy smiled despite himself, but another heavy blast from the town quickly erased it.
They continued walking.
After several more minutes, the forest opened into a narrow valley between two mountains.
Wooden shelters had been hidden among the trees. Water containers stood beneath covered roofs, while boxes of food and medicine had been placed inside.
"This way!"
"Medical supplies are in the largest shelter!"
"Keep the children together!"
The civilians entered the valley.
Some collapsed from exhaustion. Others immediately helped the injured or searched for missing family members.
"Where is my brother?"
"He's with us!"
"Has anyone seen my husband?"
"He's coming!"
Slowly, the panic became more organized.
The little girl and her mother entered one of the shelters.
The girl looked through the wooden opening toward the forest.
"Can the pirates find us here?"
"They shouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because this place was prepared by The ART's envoy for something like this."
The girl leaned against her mother.
"Will the ART Pirates come?"
Her mother fell silent.
Several adults nearby heard the question but said nothing.
"I believe they will," the woman finally answered.
"You're scared, Mom?" The girl looked up at her.
"Yes." The mother smiled sadly.
The girl moved closer.
The mother wrapped her arms around her.
"But we are together. That's what matters."
The girl nodded and held her tightly.
Outside, more civilians continued arriving.
Then a wounded Whitebeard guard reached the valley. His clothes were torn, and blood covered one side of his face.
A man approached him.
"Have the pirates reached the forest?"
"Not yet." The guard shook his head.
Relief passed through the crowd.
The man hesitated.
"Will they?"
The guard looked at the people around him before tightening his grip on his weapon.
"We won't let them reach you."
It was not a promise that anyone truly believed.
But it gave the people something to hold on to.
For now, the mountains hid them from the pirates.
For now, they were alive.
Far beyond the trees, another explosion shook the island.
The little girl squeezed her mother's hand.
"I'm here, sweetheart," her mother whispered.
Back in town, the Lion Pirates continued moving through the streets.
They had taken the harbor.
They had broken the island's first line of defense.
Now they were searching for whatever they could steal.
They did not know that the people had already disappeared into the mountains.
They did not know that hidden shelters waited among the trees.
And they certainly did not know that beneath the island, something else was waiting.
But back in the city, the Lion Pirates were still moving deeper into the streets.
The guards began retreating.
Some tried to carry their wounded comrades.
Others stumbled backward while keeping their weapons raised.
Doran remained at the front until the last possible moment.
Then a powerful blow forced him back.
He looked toward the harbor.
Pirates were already pouring through the broken defenses.
The Whitebeard guards had lost the port.
"Retreat!"
His order echoed across the harbor.
The remaining defenders ran.
The pirates chased them.
Cheers erupted from the invading ships.
"We broke through!"
"Take everything!"
"Don't let anyone escape!"
The pirates flooded into the streets.
The people who had been trying to escape the waterfront suddenly found themselves facing the enemy from another direction.
"Take the food!"
"Take the money!"
Another group smashed through a market stall.
"Where are the women?!"
The streets that had been peaceful only minutes earlier became filled with pirates.
Doran looked back from the edge of the town.
His breathing was heavy.
Blood ran down his arm.
Around him, the remaining Whitebeard guards were retreating.
They had fought as hard as they could.
But there were simply too many enemies.
One of the guards looked toward the two flags flying above the town.
"The ART Pirates..."
Another guard lowered his weapon.
"Where are they?"
Nobody answered.
The black ART flag continued to wave above them.
But no ART ship appeared on the horizon.
No Emperor arrived.
No reinforcement came running through the streets.
And for the first time since ART's flag had been raised, the people of the island began to wonder whether that flag had truly been enough to protect them.