The sky over the coordinates once known as God Valley did not fade into a sunset; it collapsed into a white void. The World Government's "Buster Call" was a primitive tool compared to the celestial erasure that now descended upon the island. As the tectonic plates groaned and the emerald paradise began to sink into the lightless depths of the sea, the survivors stood on the precipice of a history that would be deleted before the dawn.
The Pact of the Legends
On a jagged piece of obsidian coastline that hadn't yet been swallowed by the waves, two men stood side-by-side. Their chests were heaving, their clothes were scorched rags, and the blood of the "World's Greatest Sin" stained their knuckles.
Monkey D. Garp and Gol D. Roger looked out at the chaos. The Saber of Xebec was a burning husk in the distance, and the God's Knights were already retreating to the safety of the Government vessels, leaving the "Heroes" to witness the slaughter they had participated in.
"We didn't win, Garp," Roger said, his voice a low, bitter rasp. He wiped a smear of blood from his lip, his eyes fixed on the spot where Rocks had finally fallen—not to their blades, but to the madness of the Domi Reverse. "We just did the Gods' laundry."
Garp didn't look at him. His eyes were focused on the horizon, searching for a specific ship—the one carrying a woman and a child. "The boy, Roger. Teach. If the Government finds him, they'll kill him. Not because of what he's done, but because of whose blood he carries."
"I know," Roger replied. He sheathed his blade, Ace, the metal singing a mournful tune. "Sengoku is already receiving the order. 'Erase everything. No survivors. No records.' If the world finds out Rocks was a father trying to save his family, the 'Justice' of the Marines becomes a joke."
Garp turned to Roger, his face a mask of iron. "Then we make a pact. Here. Now. We tell the world we fought Rocks to stop him from taking over the world. We bury the family. We bury the truth. If we don't, the Government will hunt that kid to the ends of the Earth."
"A pact of silence," Roger whispered. "To protect a child of the Dark from the 'Light.' How's that for a joke?"
They shook hands—a grip that bound the history of the world in a lie. Garp would be the "Hero," and Roger would be the "Demon," while the true tragedy of Rocks D. Xebec was cast into the abyss.
The Great Separation
As the island disintegrated, the evacuation was a nightmare of fire and shifting tides. The Rocks Pirates were a fractured mess. Edward Newgate (Whitebeard) had been separated from the main group during the final, catastrophic explosion of the central plaza. He had seen Eris and Teach boarding a small auxiliary craft, but a surge of volcanic ash and a bombardment from the Marine fleet created a wall of fire between them.
"NEWGATE!" Eris's scream was lost in the roar of the sinking island.
The small boat carrying Eris and Teach was caught in a gravitational whirlpool created by the island's descent. They were doomed until a small, fast vessel—the Freedom's Hope—slid through the mist. On the deck stood a young, stoic Monkey D. Dragon, alongside a flamboyant Emporio Ivankov and a massive, silent figure known as Kuma (carrying the revolutionary spirit of the "Tritoma" doctrine).
"Save them!" Dragon commanded, his voice already carrying the weight of a leader.
Kuma's paws moved with blinding speed, repelling the incoming cannon fire from the Marines. Ivankov reached out, pulling the terrified Eris and the silent Teach onto their deck just as their boat was crushed by a falling marble pillar.
But the reprieve was short-lived. A "Mother Flame" experimental strike from the heavens hit the sea nearby, creating a tidal wave that split the revolutionary ship's hull. In the ensuing disaster, the deck was torn apart. Eris and Teach, clinging to a small wooden raft that had been lashed to the side, were snapped away from the main ship by a 100-foot wave.
"Dragon! We've lost them!" Ivankov screamed, but the Freedom's Hope was being pulled toward a different reef.
Eris held Teach against her chest as the raft was cast into the lawless currents of the New World. They were lost in a bunch of fleeing slaves, broken pirate ships, and drowning Marines. The world was a blur of blue and grey until, days later, the raft washed ashore on a nameless, winter-stricken island.
The Island of the Hidden
The island was a bleak sanctuary. It was inhabited by the "ghosts" of the New World—escaped slaves, disgraced soldiers, and political refugees who lived in caves and mud-huts to hide from the World Government's census.
Eris and Teach were taken in by a group of former slaves. They lived in a state of constant, gnawing hunger. Their lives were a balance of insufficient scraps and the freezing cold of the northern winds. Eris, her health declining rapidly due to the untreated wounds from God Valley, spent her days educating Teach. She spoke of the "Vultures" in Mary Geoise. She spoke of the murderers, Garp and Roger, who had "extinguished the Sun" of their lives.
But as the months passed, Eris began to notice a change in her son.
Teach was seven years old, but he carried the stillness of a man of eighty. He sat at the edge of the cliffs at night, staring at the moon. He never slept. Not once. Eris would wake in the middle of the night to find him sitting in the corner of their hut, his eyes wide and dark, whispering to the shadows.
One evening, as Eris sat by a dying fire, her body shivering from a fever that wouldn't break, she called him over.
"Teach... my son," she whispered, her hand trembling as she touched his cheek. "Why do you not rest? You have been awake for three days. You will break."
Teach looked at her. His face was a mask of innocence, but his eyes were ancient. "I'm not tired, Mom. I'm sleeping well every night... in here." He pointed to his chest. "And I'm always energetic. But... someone else is talking to me."
Eris froze. "Who? Who talks to you?"
"The Dark Shadow," Teach replied calmly. "It tells me things while I'm helping the elders or playing with the other kids. It says... we have to kill them. All of them. It says the world is a dream that needs to be eaten."
Eris felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter air. She realized that something horrific had happened to her son during the Domi Reverse event at God Valley. The "Three-Man" nature of the Davy D. lineage had been forcibly awakened. There was a hidden, maniacal power source inside him—a "They" that was slowly consuming the boy he used to be.
If the world sees this, Eris thought, they won't see a boy. They will see a monster. I have to hide this. I have to protect him until he is strong enough to take his revenge for Rocks.
The Death of a Saint
The peace of the hidden island was shattered a year later. A fleet of "Contract Pirates"—privateers working under the table for the Marines—landed on the shore. They had found the sanctuary and intended to "reclaim" the residents as slaves to sell back to the Government.
The commander of the fleet, a cruel man with a scarred neck, stood in the center of the village. "You are all property of the State! Sign these labor contracts or face execution!"
Eris, standing at the front of the refugees, spat at the commander's feet. "We have faced the 'Gods' themselves! We will never be slaves again!"
The commander's face twisted in rage. "Then you are useless."
Teach was a few hundred yards away, playing a game of stones with the other children in a clearing. He heard the sharp, dry crack of a flintlock pistol. He didn't run. He walked.
When he reached the village square, the pirates were already loading people into chains. In the center of the mud, Eris lay still. A single bullet hole was centered in her chest. Her eyes were still open, looking toward the clearing where Teach had been.
Teach didn't scream. He didn't charge. He simply stood there and crying, his shadow stretching out across the dirt, turning darker and longer than it should have been. He felt a cold, humming vibration in his blood. The voices in his head were no longer whispering; they were laughing and his heard was filled with sorrow and sad soul that make his heart stone.
The Mercy of the Strong and the Justice of the Dark
Years later, the island changed hands again. The "Contract Pirates" had stayed to loot the village, but they hadn't noticed the massive, whale-shaped ship appearing on the horizon: the Moby Dick.
Edward Newgate, now known as Whitebeard, descended upon the island like a god of thunder. He didn't make people slaves; he liberated them. Within an hour, he had decimated the pirate fleet. He found the commander in the main hut, begging for his life.
"You're a coward," Newgate rumbled, his bisento held at the man's throat. "Taking from those who have nothing. Leave this island. If I see your sails again, I will sink you to the bottom of the sea."
Newgate turned and walked out, his cape billowing. He believed in the "Hero's Mercy." He believed that by letting the man live, he was upholding a code of honor.
Inside the hut, the commander breathed a sigh of relief. "Stupid old man," he muttered, reaching for his hidden knife. "I'll just bring a bigger fleet—"
He stopped. The shadows in the room had grown thick, like ink.
A small, Twelve-year-old boy stepped out from behind a crate. Teach held a jagged piece of broken glass in his hand. His face was devoid of emotion, but his shadow had split into three distinct, flickering heads on the wall.
"The old man is a fool," Teach whispered, his voice sounding like three people speaking in unison. "My mother told me... if you don't kill the vulture, it just waits for you to die.", This reward for you killing my mother.
The screams from the hut lasted for ten minutes. When Teach emerged, he was covered in blood, but he was laughing—a jagged, "Zehahaha" that made the nearby birds take flight in terror.
The Recruitment
Two days later, as Whitebeard was preparing to leave the island, he found a boy sitting on the dock. The boy was alone, his clothes tattered, a small bundle of belongings at his side.
Newgate stopped. He looked at the boy's face and felt a jolt of recognition that shook his very soul. Those eyes. That brow. It was a mirror of his old Captain, Rocks D. Xebec.
"You," Newgate said, his voice unusually soft. "What's your name, kid?"
"Teach," the boy replied. "I want to be a pirate. I want to be part of your family."
Newgate looked at the boy's shadow. It didn't move with the sun. It seemed to have a will of its own. He sensed a darkness within the child, a void that could swallow the world, but he also saw the orphan of his dead friend.
"Where are your parents, Teach?"
Teach looked at the Moby Dick, then back at the village where his mother was buried. "They're dead. Killed by someone. One of them is already finished... the other one has to be finished later."
Newgate didn't ask for details. He reached out a hand. "Then come with us. On this ship, we are all brothers. We are a family."
Teach took the hand. As he boarded the ship, he looked back at the horizon, toward the direction of the Marine Headquarters and the invisible throne of the World.
One finished, Teach thought, remembering the commander's blood on his hands. Garp and Roger... you're next.
The chapter ends as the Moby Dick sails into the sunset, carrying the seed of the world's destruction in the form of a smiling, silent child.
To be continued...