The geography of this world was both simple and complex in its design. Two massive formations—the Red Line and the Grand Line—encircled the entire planet like bands around a sphere, intersecting at perfect right angles to divide the globe into four distinct seas: East Blue, South Blue, West Blue, and North Blue.
The towering Red Line, an impassable continental barrier, cut the Grand Line cleanly in half. On either side of this legendary sea route lay the Calm Belts—mysterious windless zones teeming with massive Sea Kings that served as natural barriers, making the Grand Line the only viable path for those seeking to travel between the four blues.
As their coated ship rose with the powerful underwater current, breaking through the ocean's surface into brilliant sunlight, every member of the Spade Pirates felt their hearts racing with anticipation. The water streaming off their bubble coating caught the light like liquid diamonds, and for a moment, the entire crew stood transfixed by the sight of open sky above them.
"We made it," Deuce breathed, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and excitement. "We're actually in the New World."
This was it—the second half of the Grand Line, the realm where only the strongest pirates could survive. It was a place where the weak were either crushed by overwhelming force or sent fleeing back to the relative safety of Paradise. Here, the very ocean itself seemed hostile to those who dared sail its waters.
"Ah, I miss the Mermaid Cafe already," one of the newer crew members, said with a dramatic sigh as he gazed at the deceptively calm waters around them. "Those peaceful days enjoying coffee and pastries feel like a lifetime ago."
"That literally happened yesterday," his friend added, though he too wore an expression of nostalgic longing. "We left Fishman Island this morning."
Jerry couldn't help but laugh as he set up his fishing gear near the ship's railing. "You two have a real talent for making everything sound epic. Give it a few days and you'll be talking about 'the legendary breakfast we had this morning' like it was some grand adventure."
The crew's laughter was interrupted when Jerry suddenly tensed, his fishing line forgotten in his hands. Something had just moved beneath the waves—something large and fast. He squinted at the water, using his Observation Haki to scan the depths, but whatever it was had already disappeared.
"Everything okay?" Ace asked, noticing Jerry's sudden alertness.
"Maybe," Jerry replied, still staring at the ocean. "Thought I sensed something down there. Could be nothing, or could be our first taste of what makes the New World so dangerous."
After a few more moments of careful observation revealed nothing unusual, Jerry returned to his fishing. But he made a mental note to stay extra vigilant.
As the hours passed, the crew settled into their familiar routines. Some worked on ship maintenance, others prepared meals or simply enjoyed the sunshine.
Deuce had briefed them extensively on what to expect. The New World's weather patterns were notoriously unstable and unpredictable. Islands here could experience all four seasons simultaneously, with spring flowers blooming on beaches while snow fell on nearby mountains. Storms could appear out of nowhere, transforming calm seas into churning death traps in a matter of minutes.
"The thing about the New World," Deuce had explained during one of his lectures, "is that it doesn't play by normal rules. You might see sunshine and feel a gentle breeze one moment, then find yourself in the middle of a hurricane the next. Or the sea might literally catch fire if you sail over an underwater volcano. Or giant hailstones the size of cannonballs might start falling from a clear blue sky."
As if summoned by those words, the crew soon encountered their first taste of the New World's unpredictability. The weather shifted three times in as many hours—from sunny skies to dense fog to a brief but intense thunderstorm that appeared and vanished without warning.
"Welcome to the New World," Wallace muttered as he helped secure loose rigging after the sudden storm passed.
Their encounters with other ships proved equally educational. The first ship they spotted was a half-sunken pirate ship, its masts broken and sails shredded. There were no survivors aboard, and from the looks of the damage, it had been destroyed by something far beyond normal weather.
"Natural disaster?" Mihar asked as they sailed past the wreckage.
"Could be," Jerry replied, studying the destruction. "Or they ran into something even worse—another pirate crew that wasn't in a merciful mood."
The second encounter was more illuminating. A small merchant ship signaled for help, claiming engine trouble and requesting assistance. But Jerry's Observation Haki picked up the hostile intent radiating from the supposedly distressed sailors long before they came within boarding range.
"Pirates," he warned quietly. "Probably planning to play victim until we get close, then attack, you know the usual bounty hunter tactic"
Ace's response was characteristically direct. "Well, if they want a fight, let's give them one."
The battle was brief and one-sided. The fake merchants revealed their true nature the moment the ships drew close, launching a surprise attack with hidden cannons and armed raiders. But they had badly underestimated their targets. The Spade Pirates had been forged in the fires of the Grand Line's most dangerous waters, and these New World wannabes posed no real threat.
Within minutes, the attacking pirates found themselves either unconscious on their own deck or taking an unexpected swim in the ocean. The Spade Pirates sailed on, leaving the defeated crew to contemplate their poor life choices.
"That was almost disappointing," Ace commented as he watched the enemy ship recede in the distance. "I was hoping the New World would provide better competition."
"Give it time," Jerry advised. "We're still in the outer regions. The real challenges are deeper in, where the Four Emperors hold court."
Their third encounter proved even more telling. A heavily damaged pirate ship limped past them, heading in the opposite direction toward the Red Line. Its crew looked shell-shocked and desperate, their ship bearing scars from what must have been a catastrophic battle.
"Where are you headed?" Ace called out to them.
"Back to Paradise!" one of the retreating pirates shouted back. "This place is insane! We barely escaped with our lives!"
"What happened?"
"Ran into one of Kaido's crews! They didn't even bother taking prisoners—just sank three ships and left us to figure out how to survive!"
As the battered ship disappeared behind them, the Spade Pirates exchanged meaningful glances.
"Still want to challenge the Four Emperors?" Deuce asked quietly.
Ace's grin widened. "More than ever."
Days passed as they continued deeper into the New World, and with each passing hour, their reputation grew. Word spread quickly in these waters—a new crew had arrived, one that wasn't running scared from the first sign of trouble.
The New World's power structure was clearly defined and brutally enforced. Four massive pirate organizations dominated these waters like maritime emperors, each controlling vast territories and commanding fleets that numbered in the thousands. The Whitebeard Pirates, led by Edward Newgate—the man called the World's Strongest. The Red Hair Pirates, commanded by Shanks, the newest member of this exclusive club. The Beast Pirates under Kaido, a creature of legend whose very name struck fear into hardened criminals. And the Big Mom Pirates, ruled by Charlotte Linlin, whose sweet tooth was matched only by her terrifying power.
For pirates entering the New World, the choice was stark and simple: kneel or fight. Submit to one of the Emperors and accept a place in their hierarchy, or challenge them directly and risk total annihilation. Most chose submission. It was safer, more profitable, and allowed them to survive in a realm where survival itself was an achievement.
But Ace had no intention of kneeling to anyone.
Jerry understood his captain's motivations better than most. Ace's relationship with his father's legacy was complicated and painful. The name Gol D. Roger cast a long shadow, one that had haunted Ace since childhood.
Meanwhile, in another part of the New World, aboard the massive ship Moby Dick, the man at the center of Ace's ambitions was reading the morning newspaper with considerable amusement.
"Gurarara! So he's finally here!" Whitebeard's booming laughter echoed across the deck as he held up a newspaper that looked comically small in his massive hands.
"What's got you so excited, Pops?" asked a blonde man sitting nearby, looking up from his own reading with curious eyes.
"That interesting brat from the reports," Whitebeard replied, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "The one who rejected the World Government's offer to become a Warlord, then had the audacity to plant his flag above ours on Fishman Island!"
"Oh, him!" Thatch approached, carrying a tray of food and grinning widely. "So the Spade Pirates are finally making their move, huh? About time. I was starting to wonder if they were all talk."
"Gurarara! Well, now we'll find out what this new generation is really made of," Whitebeard said, folding the newspaper with obvious satisfaction. "It's been too long since someone interesting showed up to challenge us. The last one with any real spine was that Crocodile fellow, and that was years ago."
"Think he's actually got a chance, Pops?" Thatch asked.
Whitebeard's laughter rumbled like distant thunder. "We'll see, won't we? But I'll tell you this much—win or lose, it's going to be entertaining. I can feel it in my bones."
As the Moby Dick continued its patrol of Whitebeard's territory, the old emperor found himself genuinely excited for the first time in years.
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