After a long while, Teach straightened up, shaking off the haze of battle. A broad grin split his face as he looked across at the young swordsman.
"Zehahahaha! Mostima, it seems we get along just fine. Name's Marshall D. Teach, currently sailing under Pops, Whitebeard, Second Division."
Mostima's eyes flickered with surprise, but he masked it quickly. "Is that so? Then I should return the courtesy. Canis Mostima, captain of the White Bird Pirates, and a swordsman."
The words froze the room.
"Wait... did he say Whitebeard Pirates?!"
"Which Whitebeard? Don't tell me… that Whitebeard?!"
Hademan's forehead broke into a sheet of cold sweat. His hands trembled as if the name itself carried weight. "No way… an ordinary member of Whitebeard's crew is this terrifying?"
Even Hadena, usually composed, couldn't keep his voice steady. "Unbelievable. The Whitebeard Pirates…"
This sea was already close to Whitebeard's territory. His name alone was enough to terrify children. The stories were endless, monsters using islands as battlegrounds, villages flattened as collateral in fights that shook the seas.
Nobody had to see him to believe.
"Why would a Whitebeard pirate be here?"
"Could it be they're scouting us? Maybe Pops wants us as an allied crew!"
"Or maybe they're eyeing our captain, what if he becomes one of Whitebeard's sons?"
The whispers spiraled, wild with speculation.
"Inside," Mostima interrupted, his tone calm but clipped. "Teach, you're my guest today and the first pirate to step foot in our territory."
Teach caught the tiny shift in Mostima's expression. For a second, the man's polished mask cracked, and his brow furrowed. He smoothed it over quickly, but Teach noticed. And he smiled.
Mostima led the way in, and Teach followed with easy strides.
"Back to your posts," Mostima ordered. The White Bird Pirates dispersed without protest. Their willingness to tease Mostima earlier was proof he was approachable, yet when it mattered, their respect for him was absolute.
He carried authority without having to shout for it.
The meeting room was unlike anything Teach expected from a pirate captain. Wide, bright, with sunlight pouring through thirty-six arched windows, twelve on each level, circling the chamber like a halo of light.
In the center sat a modest table with sofas facing each other. But it was the corners that caught Teach's eye; four towering statues, each three meters tall. A gladiator in armor and helm. A scholar clutching an open tome. A winged goddess with a smile of triumph. And a swordsman, plain, ordinary, but resolute.
Indomitable spirit. Wisdom. Victory. A journey without regret.
Paintings, sketches, ceramics, flowers filled the walls. The place reeked not of piracy, but of ideals.
Teach sank into one sofa while Mostima took the other. Hademan and Hadena stood at their captain's back, while the rest kept guard outside.
The air between them hummed with unspoken tension.
Mostima broke first. His voice carried a restless edge.
"Teach. I set sail once with the arrogance of youth. But I learned the truth. Only monsters can fight monsters. And monsters…" he gave a bitter laugh, "are heights I can never reach."
"Boss!" Hadena clenched his fists, unwilling to hear such words. Mostima had always seemed flawless to them, talented, disciplined, destined for greatness.
But Mostima knew his own limits. His body lacked the monstrous strength and durability that some men were simply born with. He could hone himself endlessly, but there was a ceiling. He would never be a Whitebeard or a Kaido.
Yet his swordsmanship, there, he shone. He could still carve his way into legend with the blade.
And so he looked across the table, eyes blazing.
"That's why I've been waiting. Waiting for a true monster to appear. That monster… is you, Teach. I've decided, I'll follow you to the peak."
Teach listened quietly, arms folded. Mostima's words rang with sincerity, and Teach already liked what he saw; a man with strength, with wisdom, and with the humility to recognize both. But still...he couldn't just accept a pledge so easily.
"Zehahaha… I appreciate the high regard, Mostima. But I'm still with the Whitebeard Pirates. And Pops' ship… isn't such a bad place to be."
Mostima leaned forward, voice sharp with conviction.
"A man like you won't stay under another's shadow for long. I can feel it, the ambition burning inside you. It hasn't erupted yet… but it will."
For a moment, the room was silent. Teach's eyes met his, unblinking. Then something shifted.
The air thickened. His grin widened.
"Zehahahahahaha!"
The laughter rolled like thunder, heavier, darker, more commanding than before. His aura swelled, pressing down on Hademan and Hadena like a storm.
The same man, yet utterly different, ambition bared, hunger unmasked.
"Interesting… very interesting, Mostima." Teach stood, his presence filling the chamber. "You'd follow me before I've even set sail? Before I've raised a flag?"
Mostima lowered his head, smiling. "I've already chosen, Captain."
That one word, Captain, was enough to seal it.
Hademan and Hadena stayed silent.
They trusted Mostima's judgment. But in their hearts, they trembled. This Teach was terrifying, like he had two souls, one hidden, one unleashed.
Teach's grin softened into satisfaction. "Zehahaha… then I accept! You've got no regrets, and neither do I."
He leaned back into the sofa, folding his arms. His tone shifted—serious, commanding.
"Listen. The seas are already carved into order. Three names rule them, Roger, Golden Lion Shiki, and Pops. Their crews are legends, their influence unmatched. The rest of us are forced to live in their shadow."
Mostima and the twins leaned in, listening. Teach's words carried weight.
"The Roger Pirates are small—barely thirty men. But every one of them is a monster. With Roger and Silvers Rayleigh, the Dark King, they're the only crew boasting two Emperor-level combatants. In a war against Marine Headquarters itself, they stood undefeated."
He spat the words like both admiration and challenge.
"Shiki's Flying Pirates? Vastest fleet on the seas, his ambition growing like wildfire. His Float-Float Fruit gives him the sky itself. Pops and his sons? The strongest family in the world. With the Tremor-Tremor Fruit, Whitebeard can sink islands. He is the strongest man alive."
Teach's eyes gleamed as he went on.
"And yet… there's another. Patrick Redfield. Red-Haired Redfield. A lone wolf, no fruit, no crew. Just one man. But strong enough to stand beside Roger, Whitebeard, and Shiki as an equal. To me, he's the fourth legend. But…" Teach chuckled darkly. "A man without companions will fall, sooner or later."
The weight of his words sank in. Mostima and his men felt their world expand, the seas suddenly larger, more dangerous, more alive.
"And mark this well," Teach finished, eyes flashing. "This balance won't last. Big Mom. Kaido. They're in the shadows, biding their time. The world's about to shift and when it does, we'll be ready."
The room fell silent.
Mostima bowed his head. His choice was sealed.