"Let's go."
Whitebeard grasped his massive naginata, Murakumogiri, and strode alongside Wang Zhi toward the conference hall inside Skull Castle.
As they walked, Newgate silently noted the layers of security and patrols along the way. His gut told him this time, Captain Rocks was preparing for something big.
Inside the meeting hall.
Seven or eight division captains were already gathered. Each was a pirate with a bounty in the hundreds of millions, each with unique skills that earned them the right to stand as a commander in the infamous Rocks Pirates.
Newgate didn't spare them so much as a glance. He crossed his arms and sat, closing his eyes to rest.
Everyone present knew of the recent clash between Whitebeard and Golden Lion Shiki and of Ares's disappearance. Whitebeard's mood had been foul ever since. None of the captains dared strike up conversation with him, choosing instead to talk among their own circles.
"The World Government has more than fifty allied nations," one cautious captain remarked. "Even if we've destroyed one, their combined strength together with the Navy remains formidable."
Another laughed scornfully.
"So what? I put my life on the line the day I chose piracy. That hasn't changed."
"I've killed to my fill, taken my pleasures," a third sneered, licking his lips. "The only thing I haven't done yet is kill a Celestial Dragon. They live in luxuries we can't even imagine. One day, I want to see what their blood looks like."
A cold silence fell. The thought of raiding Mary Geoise the Holy Land itself was madness, but no one dismissed it outright.
At that moment, Golden Lion Shiki entered, cigar clenched between his teeth. His eyes met Whitebeard's, and the air turned heavy as steel.
The hall fell silent.
Soon after, Big Mom, Silver Axe, Shakky, and other cadres arrived. Finally, Rocks and Captain John stepped in.
Rocks didn't waste time. His sharp gaze swept the room.
"This Reverie will see kings uniting against us. We will not sit idle."
The meeting erupted with strategy, orders, and brutal plans. When it ended, Rocks gave the word to move.
1482, August (Sea Circle Calendar).
Cadres Shiki and Silver Axe, together with two thousand Longarm warriors, launched a raid on the World Government–affiliated Kingdom of Res.
1482, September.
Cadres Big Mom and Shakky, leading thirty-five hundred Snakehead warriors, struck another allied nation.
That same month, more cadres moved against other territories.
1482, October…
The flames of war spread across the New World. The Rocks Pirates targeted treasures of high value gold, jewels, Berries. Everything else was left to the torch.
The chaos spread like plague. Neighboring kingdoms used the turmoil as cover, launching invasions of their own. The New World descended into madness, every horizon filled with fire and blood.
On one battlefield, the roar of cannons and the crash of explosions shook the earth. Amid the trenches, dozens of children no older than eight huddled together. Their faces were caked with ash, their eyes void of innocence.
A soldier in armor barked at them.
"Barretts! Your mission is to carry these bombs and destroy the enemy's artillery!"
He pointed toward the distant cannons.
"Use whatever means you can. Blow them to hell! If you succeed, your merit will be recorded. Earn enough, and you'll receive the highest medal of honor and with it, freedom!"
Behind him, other soldiers leveled muskets at the children. Any disobedience meant execution.
In this war-torn nation, the moment a child could run, they were forged into weapons. Victory justified every cruelty. Lives were nothing more than ammunition.
Among those children was a boy whose eyes were already cold and merciless. His name would one day terrify the seas Douglas Bullet, the Demon Heir.
Even then, his gaze held no warmth, only a singular obsession:
Earn military merit.
Stack it high enough.
Win freedom.
Escape this endless battlefield.
He clutched the bomb in his tiny arms and set off.
All the children crawled across the dirt toward the enemy's position, bombs strapped to their small bodies.
Dozens had started out. Barely ten remained.
In war, human lives were as cheap as ants, snuffed out without a thought.
They were just children, only a few years old but on the battlefield, there was no such thing as children. Only enemies and allies.
Among them was a boy who lived every day teetering on the edge of death, a child hardened by fire and blood. His name: Douglas Bullet.
At seven years old, he already stared at the world with cold, merciless eyes.
Where others cried, he calculated.
Where others feared, he hungered for merit, for medals, for freedom.
Every kill, every mission, every step closer meant one day he would break free from this hell.
West Blue.
Far from the war-torn lands, the Roger Pirates had finally arrived at the legendary sanctuary of scholars Ohara, home to countless archaeologists and the colossal Tree of Knowledge. Its canopy stretched so wide it blanketed half the island.
"I'm certain the answers I seek are here." Roger's eyes gleamed with resolve as he gazed at the giant tree.
Beside him, Jabba exhaled in relief.
"Captain, leaving the New World was the smartest decision you ever made. That place is nothing but fire and war now. No one knows how long it'll last."
Roger tilted his straw hat low, shadowing half his face.
"Let's tread carefully. With the Navy and World Government focused on Rocks, the less attention we draw, the better."
He brought only Rayleigh with him. Among the scholars, they met a woman named Nico Olvia. Neither knew it then, but in that moment, Roger had planted a seed one that would later blossom into the unraveling of the Void Century's truth.
Two days later, Roger and Rayleigh returned to the ship with disappointment clouding their features.
The archaeologists, brilliant as they were, could not yet decipher the Poneglyphs. It would take years, perhaps decades. All Roger could do was leave behind a rubbing, a silent hope that when he returned someday, the scholars of Ohara would have unlocked the words of history.
A year later.
Sea Circle Calendar, 1483. July.
High upon the back of the ancient elephant Zunesha, the Mokomo Dukedom remained serene and untouched by the chaos raging outside.
"Training's over for today!" With a thunderous thud, Tengetsu Ares collapsed onto the ground, drenched in sweat, his heavy breathing rolling like storm clouds.
Kaido approached with a grin, carrying skewers of freshly roasted meat. He handed one over.
"Ares-ani, this is the last time we'll be training here. Tomorrow, we leave this island."
He chuckled, a trace of nostalgia in his tone.
"Hard to believe… it's already been a year."
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