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"Roger is already Pirate King? And he's been missing for over a year?" Arthur, swirling his drink, stood and grabbed a newspaper from the bar.
The Sea Calendar, Year 1498, June.
[The Roger Pirates are plotting something big! Citizens—be vigilant! Don't trust the words of a pirate!]
The headline was clearly a preemptive strike by the World Government, an attempt to discredit Roger before he revealed the truth of the Void Century, a truth that could topple their 800-year reign.
Arthur scoffed.
The World Government—always hiding things, always manipulating the masses. When they couldn't hide the truth, they'd resort to propaganda, to fear-mongering, to control the narrative.
He sighed, noting the date. Mid-1498.
Roger's execution was imminent.
Another legend was about to fall...
"Using his own life to ignite a new era...To pass on his will..." Arthur thought.
"The Great Pirate Era is coming... My Thor should be ready by now."
He had been away from Skypiea for two years, from sixteen to eighteen. If they hadn't finished his ship by now, they were useless.
A pirate without a ship, was no pirate.
"First, I'll head back to Skypiea, retrieve the Thor, then head to Marineford to wait for Shiki's little tantrum. Then, I'll free Vegapunk..." He hadn't forgotten his promise.
And the time was ripe.
He downed his wine, stood, and prepared to leave the New World—temporarily. Without Roger, the sea was...dull. The thrill was gone.
The bar brawl continued, pirates fighting for their idols, their convictions.
"KILL!!!" A drunken fool, his eyes blazing, charged at Arthur, his sword raised high.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. He hadn't planned on getting involved, but this idiot was asking for it.
"Get lost."
He released a wave of Conqueror's Haki, silencing the bar, most of the patrons collapsing, unconscious.
Clang!
The sound of dropping weapons echoed through the now-silent room.
Arthur adjusted his hat, not bothering to see who was left standing, and walked out.
The few who remained conscious recognized him instantly.
"It's Thunder God!"
"The one who vanished a year and a half ago! The one they call the strongest after the Four Emperors!"
They stared, awestruck, their fear palpable.
One of them, his eyes gleaming, slipped away, pulling out a Den Den Mushi.
The snail bore the mark of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Brrring! Brrring!
"Marco-yoi? It's me...I've spotted the Thunder God on Alasolan! The one who killed Squard—" The pirate's voice was cut short as a hand clamped around his neck, lifting him off the ground, squeezing, his breath catching in his throat.
Arthur, having overheard his name, had teleported behind the pirate, his hand wrapped around his neck.
He'd been planning to leave, but now...
"Hey! What's going on? Speak up!" Marco's voice echoed from the Den Den Mushi.
———
On the Moby Dick, in the first half of the New World, Marco turned to Whitebeard. "Pops, I just got a call. Someone spotted the Thunder God..."
Before he could finish, a cracking sound echoed from the Den Den Mushi, followed by a low, mocking laugh. The snail's face transformed, its expression arrogant, a wide-brimmed hat appearing on its head.
"Hahahaha! The Whitebeard Pirates? I hear you've been looking for me."
"Who is this?" Marco's voice was sharp, his anger evident.
"Seabury D. Arthur. The one who killed Whitebeard's ungrateful son, Squard—" The snail's face mimicked Arthur's smug grin.
"Seabury D... It's you! the lightning brat?" Whitebeard took the Den Den Mushi from Marco, his booming voice echoing in Arthur's ear.
"You dare to show your face?"
"Whitebeard? Oh~ I'm terrified~ I hear you're the Strongest Man in the World now. Well... I'll be waiting for you on Alasolan." Arthur's voice was filled with a manic excitement.
His lightning, transformed, craved release.
His own power, he believed, rivaled the legends. He'd traded blows with Garp and lived to tell the tale. He was ready for Whitebeard.
He wanted to experience his power firsthand, to see if the rumors were true.
The New World was filled with monsters. To be hailed as the strongest among them—what did that even mean?
Of course, the World Government hadn't officially recognized Whitebeard's title yet.
"Gurararara!! Who do you think I am? I am—Whitebeard!"
His voice boomed, the force of it shaking the very air, the sea itself seeming to tremble, the clouds above parting.
"Lightning brat—Enjoy your last night on Alasolan. Tomorrow, you'll be at the bottom of the sea, feeding the fish!" Whitebeard's grip tightened on his bisento, his crew, sensing his fury, roaring their approval.
"Alasolan! Set course!"
Jozu, at the helm, changed direction, the crew's roars echoing across the waves.
——
"Hahahaha!" Arthur's laughter echoed through the sky, storm clouds gathering, lightning crackling.
Crack!
"Don't disappoint me, Whitebeard." He licked his lips, then returned to the bar.
The title of "Strongest Man in the World"—it wasn't just about strength. It was about overwhelming, absolute power.
The bartender, his eyes wide with fear, watched as Arthur, ignoring the chaos, sat down, his expression calm, his mind focused.
This—this would be the battle of his life.
Whitebeard, in his old age, would only grow weaker. Arthur, on the other hand, was just getting started. The gap between them would only widen.
The legends, the old guard—their time was coming to an end. A new generation would rise to take their place.
But were there any in that new generation who could truly challenge him? Perhaps—but they needed time to grow, a decade, maybe two.
"A final feast for the old era—a celebration of the new." Arthur closed his eyes, his lightning coiled, ready to be unleashed.
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