By midday, the Tiger God burst back up through the sea.
"This is the New World?" Aderian squinted at the rolling horizon. "Doesn't look so different from the first half… Hm? Captain, pirate ship approaching."
Karl leaned on the rail. "The New World isn't about scenery—it's about who survives. Stronger crews, messier powers, and a lot more ugly politics."
The oncoming ship cut hard across the swell—decks tidy, hands drilled.
"See the difference? These guys scrap year-round out here," Karl said. "For most pirates, they're trouble. For us? Another speed bump."
"Rururururu—fresh meat!" the opposing captain bellowed through a horn. "Hey! You lot, how about joining the Wood Pirates?"
It was Art Wood, captain—bounty: 240 million.
"Gutsy," Karl said, stepping forward as his crew watched like they were at a play. His aura rolled out—an invisible pressure that made knees hit wood.
"C-Cap'n… that's the Blooded Swordmaster—Karl! Twenty-two point nine billion!" a senior hand squeaked.
"Quit joking! A bigshot like that wouldn't be—"
Art Wood paled. He'd thought he'd found early-New-World rookies to strongarm.
"Mistake! Total mistake!" he shouted, bowing from across the gap. "Lord Karl, we're ready to pledge ourselves to your banner—give us a chance."
"You said you have wanted posters?" Karl asked.
"Y-yes! Bring them!" Art Wood had eight posters ferried over with shaking hands.
Karl glanced through the stack, then looked up. "Be glad you didn't open with cannon."
"Bunsen. Let's go."
"Aye, Captain." The Tiger God swung away and left them in its wake.
"…So that's what top-tier feels like," a Wood pirate muttered, collapsing. "I thought we were dead."
"Maybe a man like that doesn't even see us," Art Wood said hoarsely. "Back to course."
On deck, Ann scowled at her own wanted poster. "Why is everyone over a hundred million—I'm only eighty! Not fair!"
Karl laughed. "You're twelve and already at eighty million. That's terrifying enough."
"Why is this god's price lower than the big brute's by one point nine billion?" Enel groused.
Bunsen shrugged. "Because you lean on your fruit too much. Your Haki's still thin. The Captain's said it a hundred times—Haki is the real bedrock."
"Hmph! I'll pound you flat one day, big ox!"
"Alright, you two," Karl cut in. "Dinner?"
"Give Karine a minute," Ellie said. "She's plating now."
"Karl, what are we going to Punk Hazard for?" Aderian asked.
"To fetch a Devil Fruit. More precisely, a man-made Devil Fruit."
(He'd planned to butcher a certain kimono creep too, but in Sea Circle Year 1512, that weasel hadn't time-jumped yet. Plenty of time for that later.)
"Artificial? You can make Devil Fruits?" Aderian blinked.
"You can try," Karl said. "The tech's shaky and success is rare."
Karine popped out with a grin. "Dinner's ready! On deck or in the galley, Captain?"
"Deck. After all that blackness under Fish-Man Island, open air feels nice. Let's haul it up."
Karine set out bottles. "First batch of our own brew—made with Fish-Man Island's special ingredients. See how it stacks up."
Ann puffed her cheeks. "And I get none."
"You're twelve. Drink milk," Karl said mildly.
"Yeah, yeah, nag nag—Ellie-sis, Karine-sis, cheers! Ignore them!"
"Cheers!" the women laughed, clinking cups.
Karl took a sip and brightened. "For a first run, this can hang with Neptune's stash. Give it a few years in the barrel and it'll beat it."
Karine's eyes danced. "Then we're in business."
The first night in the New World passed warm and easy.
"Captain, that island's Punk Hazard, right?" Bunsen asked the following day.
"So fast already? Take us in."
Thirty minutes later, the Tiger God nosed up to a blasted shore.
"You all wait here. I'll fetch the fruit and we're gone," Karl said, shooting into the sky.
He ghosted through corridors until a man with a gas mask and a swagger screeched: "Wh-Who are—You're the Blooded Swordmaster Karl!"
By the time Caesar Clown realized his mistake, Karl was in front of him.
"Just one question," Karl said. "Where's the Devil Fruit Vegapunk made?"
"N-next lab," Caesar stammered, buckling under Karl's killing intent.
Karl snagged him by the collar and walked.
"I'll warn you—I'm Joker's and Big Mom's key partner. You want those enemies?" Caesar cackled weakly, trying to inflate himself. "Shurororororo—"
Karl thumped him once on the head. Silence.
"Open it."
"Y-Yes, Lord Karl!" Caesar hustled, doors hissing wide. On a pedestal sat a strange, pink, ring-patterned fruit.
Karl stepped in and picked it up.
"Caesar," he said without turning. "If I learn you're experimenting on children, I'll come back and end you. If it's a kimono-clad brat? Do what you want."
He hadn't sensed any kids here—likely the giantification human trials hadn't begun yet.
"I—Understood!" Caesar squeaked. The man was a rat—but even rats knew when to bow.
Karl left without further fuss. A scientist obsessed with surpassing Vegapunk, huh? Fine—earn your shot.
Back on deck, the crew gathered as he set down the fruit.
"Captain, what is it?" Ellie asked.
Karl looked at the pink, artificial Fish-Fish Fruit and smiled to himself. Step one secured. The weasel of Wano could wait—shoguns came in more than one flavor, and Hiyori had as much claim as anyone.
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