Chapter 14: The Pirate's Flag
The G-12 fortress was dead.
The silence of the first day was heavy, broken only by the skree of seagulls and the distant crash of waves.
The hundreds of Marines who had lived here were gone, fled on rafts, lifeboats, or in some cases, by simply swimming for the horizon.
They had left behind a ghost town, a monument to their terror.
But on the evening of the second day, G-12 was alive again.
An impossibly delicious smell—of roasted meat, exotic spices, and baking bread—wafted from the central fortress, filling the parade ground where Commodore Grubb had been executed. It was a scent of defiance, a fragrant middle finger to the World Government.
Inside the Commodore's personal mess hall, a scene of beautiful, gluttonous chaos was unfolding.
"Meat! Cook, more of this pig!"
WHACK! A heavy steel ladle, wielded with blinding speed, slammed into the back of Shimotsuki Riyon's head.
"It is Chef, you moss-brained, sword-obsessed troglodyte!" Vasco roared, his face flushed with heat from the dozen ovens he was tending.
Vasco, having claimed the fortress's entire supply larder, was a man reborn.
He'd found his knives, and now, he'd found his kitchen. He was a whirlwind of fiery red hair and pristine white apron, a dervish of culinary art.
"And that is not 'pig'!" he bellowed, gesturing with a massive cleaver.
"That is a Bain-marie braised wild boar, slow-cooked for twelve hours with Rofure juniper berries and a white wine reduction! You do not shov-el it, you sa-vor it! It is my pride! Show some respect!"
Riyon, rubbing the new lump on his head, merely grunted and took an even bigger bite, his wolfish eyes betraying a rare, simple happiness. "Hmph. It's... acceptable."
"Acceptable?!" Vasco looked personally wounded, ready to lunge with a carving fork.
"He means it's the best food he's ever had in his life," Elara said, sipping a captured bottle of Marine-brand wine.
She was sitting at the head of the long table, surrounded by piles of navigational charts she'd "liberated." "Thank you, Chef Vasco. This is incredible."
Vasco instantly beamed, his prickly-pride replaced by a craftsman's joy.
"But of course, mademoiselle! Only the finest for a lady! You must try the seared Sea King scallop with lemon-butter-dill! I found it in the Commodore's private freezer. The man was a monster, but he ate like a king!"
I sat at the table, hooded, as the sun was long gone.
This was my night form. I was cold, my muscles ached, and my Sunshine was a distant memory. But I was surrounded by my crew.
I was warm.
I took a bite of the sandwich Vasco had made for me—a simpler, but no less artistic, creation. The bread was warm, the cheese melted, the ham perfectly salted.
[Consumable Used: Vasco's Pride Sandwich (Masterwork)]
[Effect: [Well-Fed] buff. Stamina recovery +200% for 1 hour. Minor boost to all stats (+1).]
[Chain Quest: Path of Strength – Stage 1] (96/100)
I smiled, a small, genuine smile.
"It's good, Chef."
Vasco, who had been about to launch into a tirade at Riyon, stopped. He looked at me, his sharp, hawk-like eyes softening for a fraction of a second.
"Hmph. Of course it's 'good,' Captain. It's perfect."
We ate, drank, and laughed for hours. Riyon and Vasco argued over whether a sword or a knife was the more "noble" blade.
Elara explained her new route, her eyes shining with a navigator's passion. And I... I just listened.
This was a crew. This was my crew.
The next morning, the third day, the sun rose with a brilliant, promising light.
I stood on the deck of the Purgatory, my body thrumming with the Sunshine's power. The ship was transformed.
The old, battered Marine caravel was gone. Riyon, a surprisingly skilled shipwright, had worked tirelessly.
He'd used the fortress's steel and timber to reinforce the hull, patch the holes, and even sharpen the ram at the prow.
"She'll hold," he said, joining me on deck. He was carrying a crate of new rifles. "She's not a warlord's ship, but she's a predator now. Fast. Tough."
"And she's stocked," Vasco added, rolling the last barrel of flour up the gangplank. "Food for three months. Rum for six. And a full spice rack. We are civilized."
"And we have a course," Elara said, emerging from the new map room she'd claimed below deck. She held up a rolled chart.
"The G-12 records were very detailed. I have a route, Captain. It's a smuggler's path, one the Marines were trying to shut down. It'll take us right into the first half of the Grand Line, bypassing the Reverse Mountain bottleneck."
"Excellent," I said, my voice the deep, confident baritone of my day form. "Then we are ready."
Elara looked up at the mainmast, her brow furrowed.
"Not... quite. There's one last thing."
She pointed to the massive, plain white sail. It was a Marine-issue sail, scrubbed clean, but it was... blank.
"We can't sail under a Marine flag," she said. "And we can't sail under a white one. That's just an invitation to be boarded by everyone. We need a symbol. We need a Jolly Roger."
There was a moment of silence.
"A skull," Riyon grunted, his arms crossed. "With a sun exploding behind it. Simple. Strong."
"How boring," Vasco scoffed, pulling a piece of charcoal from his apron.
"A flag should have... flavor! It should be a statement! How about a skull wearing a chef's hat, with a crossed Supreme Grade knife and fork behind it?"
Riyon and Elara both stared at him.
"We're a pirate crew, Vasco," Elara said gently. "Not a floating restaurant."
"It's the same thing!"
I stepped forward, a smile playing on my lips. I took the can of black paint Riyon had "liberated" and a thick brush.
"You're both right, in a way," I said. My voice quieted them. "Our flag must be a statement. It must show our strength."
I dipped the brush in the black paint.
"But Riyon, we are not a symbol of death. A skull is not our way. We are not murderers."
I turned to Vasco.
"And Chef, our pride is not just in our craft. It is in our souls."
I faced the massive, empty sail. My crew watched me.
"The world calls me 'Suncorch.' They call me a 'demon' and a 'traitor.'
They will hunt me. They will hunt us. When they see our flag, they should not feel random terror. They should feel awe."
I put the brush to the canvas. I was not an artist. But my hand, filled with the sun's power, was steady.
I didn't paint a skull. I didn't paint bones.
I painted a roaring, majestic, golden-maned lion. I painted its head in profile, its mouth open, its fangs bared, its eyes filled with an intelligent, arrogant, and absolute pride.
And behind it, with a can of golden paint Vasco had "found," I painted the blazing, multi-rayed corona of a rising sun.
The Lion of the Sun.
I stepped back, my work complete. It was bold. It was loud. It was... proud.
Riyon stared at it. His usual scowl was gone, replaced by a look of... approval. "Hmph. A lion. The King. I can follow that."
Elara smiled. "It's... beautiful, Captain. It suits you."
I looked at Vasco. The fiery chef was quiet, his arms crossed. He was studying the flag, then me, then the flag again.
"Captain," he said, his voice serious for the first time. "Yesterday, in that jail cell, I thought I was a dead man. I was... okay with it. I had kept my pride. That was enough."
He took a step forward, his hawk-like eyes locking onto mine.
"But this..." He gestured to the flag. "This is more. This isn't just one man's pride. This is a declaration. You didn't just save my life, Captain. You gave my pride... a home."
He unbuttoned the top of his chef's uniform and knelt, placing his forehead on the deck.
"Vasco, the Chef, is yours to command, Captain Luthor. My knives. My kitchen. My pride. They all sail under this flag."
[Vasco has officially joined your crew!]
[Loyalty: 90 (Unbreakable Pride)]
I walked over and placed my hand on his shoulder. "Stand up, Vasco. On this ship, no one kneels. Not to me. Not to anyone."
He looked up, a manic grin splitting his face, and stood.
I turned to my crew. My First Mate. My Navigator. My Chef.
[Main Quest: Hoist the Flag] -> COMPLETED!
[Crew Name: Suncorch Pirates]
[Reward: Title: Captain of the Suncorch Pirates]
[Passive Skill Unlocked: [Crew Morale Buff Lv.1: Increase All Crew members' strength by 20, Haki power 10%]
"The Suncorch Pirates," I declared, my voice echoing across the water. "Let the world know our name."
"HOIST THE MAINSAIL!" Elara bellowed, her navigator's authority taking over.
"Aye!" Riyon and Vasco roared back.
With a heavy creak, the massive sail was unfurled, climbing the mast.
Our new flag, the Golden Lion, caught the wind for the first time, the sun glinting off the paint. It was magnificent.
Screee!
A News Coo, as if summoned by the event, swooped down, dropping the morning paper on the deck.
Riyon picked it up. He didn't even have to open it. The front page was all that mattered.
My old bounty poster was gone.
In its place was a new, clearer picture of me, taken by a terrified Marine at G-12 during my transformation. My face was half-shadow, half-light, my hair glowing.
And the number beneath it...
"BWA-HAHAHA!" Riyon let out a short, barking laugh. "Captain! Your price has gone up!"
[Global Bounty Updated!]
[Bounty Increased: +150,000,000 Berries]
[New Total Bounty: 250,000,000 Berries]
[Reason: Annihilation of G-12, execution of Commodore "Ironjaw" Grubb, and declaration of the 'Suncorch Pirates.']
[Bounty Rank: Tier 5 (Threat: Admiral-Level Event)]
[Monthly SP Payout (in 27 Days): 250,000,000 SP]
"Two hundred and fifty million," Elara breathed, her eyes wide. "That's... that's almost Warlord level. For a first bounty..."
"A quarter-billion!" Vasco cackled,
"We'll be hunted by everyone! This is fantastic! I'll have to stock up on more food!"
I just smiled, the sun on my face.
The number was a threat. But to me, it was a promise. 250,000,000 Shop Points per month. The Will of the Captain trait was now within my grasp.
I stood at the prow of the Purgatory as it sailed from the ruined fortress. Riyon stood to my right, his hand on his sword.
Vasco stood to my left, polishing a dagger. Elara was at the helm, her eyes on the horizon.
"Elara!" I commanded.
"Aye, Captain!"
"Set the course! Take us to the Grand Line!"
"Full sail ahead!" she yelled, her voice filled with the joy of adventure.
The Purgatory, bearing the mark of the golden lion, turned its prow toward the rising sun and the greatest sea in the world.