"Bwahahaha!"
"Hey, what is this—a fish hatchery?"
"If you can't handle your drink, go sit with the cabin boys!"
Under the starlit sky, raucous laughter echoed across the deck of one of the Whitebeard Pirates' ships. A massive banquet was in full swing—firelight, barrels of booze, grilled sea king, and the kind of crude jokes only pirates could love.
To pirates, a banquet wasn't just a party. It was a declaration: We lived another day. Whether it followed victory or defeat didn't matter—if you were breathing, you drank.
And if one celebration wasn't enough?
"Then have two!"—An old saying from the age of pirates.
"Gurararara~~~!"
Newgate's booming laughter rang out as he sat cross-legged on the deck, a keg of ale beside him and Murakumogiri—his newly acquired Supreme Grade Blade—resting majestically at his back.
It wasn't just a weapon. It was a statement of power. The only naginata among the Twelve Supreme Blades. Worth over 7 billion Berries on the black market, but priceless in the right hands.
And Newgate? He was the right hands.
The crew was euphoric. Their captain's strength had surged, and with it, their chances of survival. To them, Murakumogiri wasn't just treasure—it was insurance. It was future conquests. It was family protection incarnate.
Off to the side, Argus sat quietly, sipping wine beneath the edge of the main sail. He wore a slight smile as he watched the festivities unfold.
"Looks fun," he murmured, "but this kind of thing... isn't really my scene."
"Husband!"
A soft voice cut through the din.
Serena approached, her steps slow and deliberate, flanked by Sally and Shella. The three women walked with grace and dignity, the kind that made even battle-hardened pirates lower their voices out of respect.
Argus stood immediately, eyes flicking to Serena's abdomen.
"You're pregnant now," he said gently. "Don't overexert yourself. Watch your footing."
Serena gave a warm, composed smile. "Of course, husband. I'll be careful."
Argus's gaze lingered on her belly. Her child was already confirmed—S+ talent, with bloodline resonance to the Red Dragon King. That alone made her invaluable in his eyes. She wasn't just bearing a child—she was carrying a future pillar of the family.
Shella, meanwhile, had softened. Once aloof and unapproachable, she now gave a faint, respectful nod. "The food is not bad... better than I expected."
Argus raised an eyebrow. "High praise coming from you."
Shella sniffed but didn't argue. Instead, she stood beside Serena without a word, hands folded calmly. The more time she spent on the ship, the more she seemed to mellow.
Sally, on the other hand, had grown more assertive.
"Hiroshi tried to sneak in an extra bottle of rum," she reported crisply. "I had him run laps around the deck."
Argus smirked. "Taking initiative, are we?"
"I may not have your bloodline plans, but I have my pride," Sally replied, standing straighter.
He respected that.
Still, he noticed the tension. Both Shella and Sally kept their distance from each other—civil, yes, but guarded. That was fine. Time would do its work.
As for Serena—
Without ever raising her voice, she now decided the seating order, the menu, the maids' duties. She adjusted schedules around prenatal visits and made sure Argus's study remained off-limits when he worked.
Not once did she declare herself "Head Wife."
But everyone had already begun treating her as such.
Even Shella deferred to her. Even Sally consulted her. Serena wielded subtle control like a scalpel, not a sword—and that made her dangerous in all the right ways.
The party dragged on until the fire pits died and the kegs ran dry, leaving a trail of snoring pirates and empty plates under the moonlight.
Two Months Later…
Serena's belly was round and pronounced. She was nearly five months along.
Then the unexpected news hit.
"Pregnant?!"
Argus stared blankly at the physician.
The doctor, a composed woman in a clean white coat, bowed her head respectfully.
"Yes, Lord Argus. Both Madam Sally and Madam Shella are also pregnant—approximately two weeks along."
"...Both?"
Argus blinked. He had hoped for results eventually. But three pregnancies within a few months?
That was fast—even for him.
BANG!
The study doors flew open with a crash.
"Gurararara~~~!!"
Newgate stormed in, eyes gleaming. "ARGUS! I heard Sally and Shella are pregnant too?!"
Argus didn't bother looking up from his chair. "Yes, brother. The doctor confirmed it this morning."
"THREE nephews—or nieces!" Newgate shouted, pumping a fist. "This is what I'm talking about! THIS is legacy!"
Argus leaned back with a sigh. "You're more excited than the father."
Newgate waved dramatically. "Of course I am! You think I swung this damn naginata all these years for nothing?! This is what we fought for—a real family."
Argus gave him a long look.
Truthfully, the 'Many Children, Many Blessings' system did most of the heavy lifting. Still, he couldn't deny the satisfaction. Every new pregnancy strengthened his family tree. Every child had the potential to be a game-changer.
"Gurarara! This calls for a toast—again!" Newgate barked, then paused, stroking his chin. "Actually... with three women pregnant, shouldn't you start scouting for your next concubine?"
Argus tapped his fingers on the desk, thoughtful.
"You're not wrong. With Serena, Sally, and Shella all entering late stages soon, I'll need another candidate. But where do we find someone worthy?"
He didn't want just anyone.
The next concubine had to be rare. Gifted. Either with a strong bloodline, elite combat potential, or a unique racial trait that could carry to the child.
It wasn't about quantity.
It was about legacy.
And that meant being ruthless with selection.
(CHAPTER END)