Not long after Sue left the Grand Line to wander the Four Blues…
Midway through the Grand Line, on a small island…
"Gold Bomb!!"
Tesoro's fist—encased in a golden gauntlet—crashed into a pirate's descending blade and shattered it on impact.
The pirate froze, stunned. Tesoro's other hand shot forward, clamping around his face.
A golden blast erupted at point-blank range, launching the man into the air. He traced a perfect arc—like a glittering parabola—before splashing into the sea.
"D-don't hesitate! If we rush him together, we can take him!"
"Kill this bastard and it's hundreds of millions of berries! Fight like your lives depend on it, you scum!"
"Tough luck." Tesoro's voice stayed calm. "It's true I've got so much gold I could throw it away by the fistful… but I decide how it's spent. Outside of business, I only spend it on myself—and on the people I care about."
He brought his gauntlets together with a sharp clang, a warning meant for every pirate closing in.
Despite the heavy metal wrapped around his arms, he moved like lightning. He slipped past every swing and thrust, then methodically dropped pirate after pirate.
Each time his fist landed, golden light burst outward. Shockwaves rippled across the battlefield—so intense that even those who weren't hit flinched.
It was a spectacle. Brutal, beautiful, and terrifyingly precise.
And it wasn't just Tesoro.
"Damn it—he's too strong! Hey! Grab that woman as a hostage—threaten her—wait, what?!"
The pirate's gaze snapped to the "hostage" he'd chosen.
Only, she was already cutting down the men he thought were still standing.
Stella—slender arms that didn't look built for combat—held a golden spear longer than her own height. With one sweeping swing, she knocked several burly pirates off their feet.
A heavy axe came down for her neck—no hostage-taking, no bargaining; they were here to kill. Stella turned her wrist, deflected the blow with a clean, effortless motion, and then swept upward.
The man went flying.
The path of her spear, the gold armor she wore, and the shining trails that followed her movements—like light caught in motion, like gold scattered through the air—painted a scene of combat so dazzling it almost didn't feel real.
To the pirates, those glittering arcs must have looked less like beauty and more like the swing of Death's scythe.
Damn it… I didn't sign up for this. Even the woman is this strong…?!
"Well then," Stella said softly, "I won't insult you by asking if you're ready."
A heavy hand dropped onto the man's shoulder with a dull thud.
He jolted, whipped around—
—and found a golden fist hovering a hair's breadth from his nose.
Tesoro exhaled, almost bored. "Sigh… seems like more of these types have been showing up lately."
"Maybe that just means you've become famous," Stella replied. "Though… it's hardly something worth celebrating."
Over the past few years, the name Gild Tesoro had spread across the Grand Line.
He catered to an enormous clientele: pirates, underworld brokers, wealthy merchants, and the sort of people who never appeared in daylight. As a black-market merchant, he was relatively "mild" compared to most—he refused to deal in slaves or drugs—but his networks were vast, and his deals were clean. The security of his transactions, refined over years of blood and caution, earned him trust in places where trust didn't exist.
In certain circles, he even counted nobles and officials from World Government member nations among his regular clients.
Some used him to fatten their own pockets. Others treated him as a "necessary evil," a tool to keep their countries afloat—or rich.
And as Tesoro's influence grew, it was inevitable that people would start targeting him… and Stella, his lover… to seize that wealth and power for themselves.
But Tesoro repelled every attack.
Sometimes he hired mercenaries. Sometimes he hid behind the shadow of powerful nations or organizations.
And sometimes, he simply stepped forward and crushed them with his own fists.
With the awakened power of the Gold-Gold Fruit—and with Sue's guidance—Tesoro refined his abilities at a frightening pace. He never stopped training, never stopped sharpening himself. Direct combat was a necessity in these seas, and he mastered it with the same ruthless discipline he applied to business.
And it wasn't just Tesoro.
Stella, who chose to live at his side, trained just as hard.
She'd once lived far from violence—so far it might as well have been another world. But her mental strength and resolve rivaled Tesoro's… perhaps even surpassed it. A woman like that would never accept being nothing but a burden.
At first, her skills were little more than basic self-defense.
Then she found mentors.
Sue had spared time to train her. The Hancock sisters—whom Stella met in Mary Geoise—helped open a door, and through them she gained access to Kuja warriors and even veteran fighters who were willing to guide her.
They were also among Tesoro's key clients, and through that connection, they agreed to teach her.
They couldn't meet often, which meant Stella trained mostly alone.
Even so, she pushed herself until her hands blistered and her muscles screamed. She refused to stop.
After roughly two years of relentless effort, she'd reached a level where she could handle ordinary pirate grunts—impressive self-defense by Grand Line standards.
And with Tesoro's specially forged gold armor—lightweight yet far stronger than ordinary steel—her offense and defense rose to a level most wouldn't believe at a glance.
Furthermore, a certain incident (・・・・・・) had triggered an even greater surge in her power… but for now, only Tesoro knew the full extent of her transformation.
Before Stella could tell Sue, Sue had already left to roam the Four Blues.
And because it wasn't the kind of news you shared over a Den Den Mushi, Stella decided she'd tell Sue in person the next time they met.
Tesoro's grin said it all.
He was probably looking forward to Sue's stunned reaction.
"Still," Tesoro said, rolling his shoulders, "it's getting harder to keep going like this. We're planning to expand the business even further, so… maybe it's time we start gathering reliable allies."
"Maybe," Stella agreed. "But it's tricky. We have to be careful who we trust."
"Yeah." Tesoro's eyes sharpened. "But I'll make it work. I'm going to climb higher and higher, no matter what. With the very power of money that made us miserable, I'll become the happiest man in the world this time."
"Heh. I'm looking forward to it," Stella said. "But don't push yourself too hard, Tesoro. I'm already happy—every single day. I can't even imagine being happier than I am now."
"That's fine," Tesoro said, voice low and fierce. "Then I'll show you a kind of happiness you can't even imagine. Not just you—Sue, Hancock, Rayleigh, Shakuyaku… I'll seize something so huge it'll leave them speechless!"
A man burning with ambition, yet still gentle at his core.
A woman who chose to walk beside him, protecting the happiness they'd fought to earn.
Their golden path had only just begun.
---
"President! President Morgans!"
"What is it, Eddie?" Morgans snapped without looking up. "I heard you the first time."
At the headquarters of the World Economic News—a colossal newspaper company read across the globe—the president, half-man and half-bird, was already in high spirits, churning headlines in his head for the day's issue.
The one who came rushing in was Eddie, an editor Morgans had personally recruited.
In the past few years, Eddie had become one of the company's key figures—largely thanks to a single writer he was assigned to handle.
Sue.
The "Pirate Literary Master."
"Sue-sensei's manuscript is here!" Eddie announced, practically glowing. "It's the new work she told us about!"
It went exactly as Morgans expected.
Nine out of ten pieces of good news Eddie brought him had something to do with Sue. Everyone in the company knew it—not just Morgans.
Sue had left the Grand Line to travel the world, and distance made exchanging manuscripts harder… but Morgans' company had its ways. Through a web of strings pulled in the shadows, they always got the pages.
Even now, Sue's output hadn't slowed—if anything, it matched or exceeded her previous pace. Eddie stayed cheerfully buried in work, as always.
"Ah, it's here!" Morgans said. "Have you read it? What's it about?"
"It's… intense," Eddie said. "The Loyal Retainer Glide. A historical novel set in the fictional Kingdom of Akō. Their lord is unjustly executed due to palace power struggles. His retainers—led by their most loyal knight, Glide—raid the estate of the noble responsible and kill him in revenge. Then instead of fleeing, they submit themselves to judgment. Their lives and deaths move the people deeply. Something like that. No flashy action, but it's heavy."
"I see, I see…" Morgans tapped the manuscript with a clawed finger, amused. "A story that defies government and authority, yet doesn't become a revolution—doesn't topple the state. Instead, they accept punishment for the crime they chose to commit… dark, but with a spine. Fascinating!"
He took the pages from Eddie and skimmed, eyes moving quickly.
Then, without hesitation, Morgans grabbed a Den Den Mushi and called the editorial department of his affiliated publishing house, summoning them to headquarters.
He'd already decided: this manuscript was going onto the agenda at the next meeting.
"Sue is…" Morgans mused. "Last I heard, she was in the South Blue, right?"
"Probably," Eddie said. "She said she'd rotate through the South, West, North, and East Blues in that order… though she might return to the Grand Line now and then if something urgent comes up."
"Hm. Judging by the social structure she's portraying… she's likely around Centorea right now. That place is still run by nobles, absurd trials, rotten customs… She must've gotten the idea after seeing it herself."
Morgans referred to a World Government member nation as a "shithole" with the ease of breathing. Eddie and the others didn't even blink.
If it was interesting enough, Morgans would print far worse—right on the front page.
"Sensei tends to get inspiration on site," Eddie said, smiling. "Then she writes like she's possessed."
He remembered traveling with Sue in the old days—before she became the Pirate Literary Master.
Sue would experience something, suddenly gasp, It's coming! and then sprint back to their inn. By the next morning, a complete story would be sitting on the desk, still warm.
A writer driven by instinct and momentum—that had always been Eddie's impression of her.
"That's how novels work for her," Morgans said. "She doesn't start with a theme and build a plot around it. She sees an image—something vivid—and then she chases it. I remember her saying once… 'The characters in my head move on their own. I'm just writing down what they do.' Something like that."
"She also said this," someone added. "For her, being a writer means sharing the wonderful, joyful fantasies inside her with everyone who reads them. That's why she can't write something she doesn't genuinely enjoy."
"Sounds like her," Morgans snorted. "It's not that she can't write what she doesn't want to. It's principle. She'd rather die than write something she doesn't believe in. She's a purist."
"And that's exactly why Sue-sensei's stories—no matter the genre—hit so hard," Eddie said, shining with pride as he gathered the pages back up. "They're alive."
He turned, already shifting into "meeting prep" mode.
Then Eddie practically bounced out of the room, excitement leaking from every step.
The other employees watched him go, used to the sight.
Ah. The manuscript's here.
Morgans returned to preparations for the meeting—then, suddenly, picked up a freshly printed copy of his company's newspaper.
The front page carried a report on the increasingly active "Revolutionary Army."
For now, their name sat near the bottom of the page—an organization with dangerous ideology, dismissed by most as little more than another band of pirates.
They hadn't drawn real attention yet. People assumed they'd be crushed and vanish, like countless others who tried to oppose the World Government.
But Morgans' instincts whispered otherwise.
Still, what occupied his mind wasn't the Revolutionary Army itself.
It was—
"Thinking about it," Morgans muttered, gaze shifting to the board beside his desk, "the Government's got a completely twisted perspective. Sue's written plenty of stories that brush against that line, so I suppose it's not entirely irrational."
Pinned to the board was a wanted poster.
Sue.
"Pirate Literary Master."
"They know she writes for herself and her readers," Morgans continued, voice low, almost amused. "But they don't believe it. They're starting to treat her like a dangerous, anti-government agitator."
Sue's books—despite being written by a pirate—had found readers everywhere: ordinary citizens, nobles, even a handful of Marines.
That wasn't something the Government could ignore.
As a writer, Sue had a rare kind of power: influence that crossed class, age, and borders. She could reach people with words in a way most leaders could only dream of.
If that voice ever turned toward subversion…
The Government couldn't afford to pretend it wasn't possible.
"Well," Morgans said, lips curling, "even if she has no intention of doing any of that… I've heard the Revolutionary Army has started taking an interest in her. So the Government's fear isn't completely baseless."
He paused.
"But if it happens… in a way, it'll be their own fault."
After all, it was the World Government that branded her a criminal in the first place.
They did it because she discovered something dangerous—or because they suspected she might.
Despite the fact that she had no such ambition.
If anything, Sue had once been a bounty hunter—a woman who, at least on paper, helped keep public order by hunting pirates.
Maybe the Government's paranoia was understandable.
But in the end, they were harvesting what they'd planted.
They'd created an enemy out of speculation… and now they scrambled to suppress that imagined enemy, terrified of what she might become.
Morgans found it absurd—like a dog chasing its own tail until it collapsed.
"Still… kuwahahaha!" he laughed, bright and sharp. "Pathetic. They can't even enjoy her masterpieces for what they are. Those stuffed shirts at the top don't get the simple pleasure of a good story."
He cut the thought off and returned to his work.
This wasn't the time for daydreams.
Right now, all he had to do was deliver Sue's stories to the world—exactly the way she wanted.
That was still all she wanted.
And it made him happy.
And it made money.
For now, that was enough.
…But what if?
What if Sue did start producing the kind of dangerous, sensitive work the Government feared?
That would be—
Fascinating.
I bet she'd blow past every expectation while staying true to herself… kuwahahaha!
And when that day came…
Morgans wouldn't hesitate.
He would unleash it upon the world.
He already had that conviction.
…It would be interesting if that day ever came.
With that anticipation quietly burning in his chest—
To be continued...