Year 1484 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
God Valley.
The endless sea churned, waves crashing one after another.
The sky was pitch-black, heavy storm clouds pressing down so low it felt like they could swallow the island whole.
Thunder rumbled across the heavens without end.
Purple lightning forked through the clouds like electric serpents, splitting the sky and sea apart.
A storm was coming.
Whether it was the violent shift in the weather or the grim expressions on the faces of the people stationed on this island, everything seemed to signal that something earth-shattering was about to happen.
...
On the rocky shoreline of this island known as "God Valley," three Navy officers stood tall against the wind.
The white Justice coats on their backs snapped loudly in the gale.
"It's Vice Admiral Dean D. Dollars, Vice Admiral Garp, and Vice Admiral Sengoku!!!"
"The Navy's strongest iron triangle — now that's reassuring!"
"With the Admirals' seats still vacant, they're the future of the Navy!"
"And if you add Vice Admiral Zephyr on the other side, maybe one day we'll see four Admirals standing shoulder to shoulder!"
"Enough chatter! Get moving! Let the bastards from the Rocks Pirates know what Navy justice means!"
...
The passing sailors whispered excitedly as they hurried by, their eyes filled with reverence for the trio on the reef.
As long as those three were here, even if they had to face the so-called overlord of the seas, they felt no fear.
"They're almost here… those bastards."
The man on the left spoke in a low, steady voice.
He had short black hair, a powerful build, and muscles that strained against his Marine coat like a coiled dragon.
He was Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp of Marine Headquarters.
"The defensive fortifications are basically ready," said the man on the right, his expression solemn. His afro-shaped hair made him instantly recognizable. "Hopefully they'll slow that monster crew down — even a little. At the very least, we can limit the damage to the island."
He was Vice Admiral Sengoku.
"Won't make a difference."
The Vice Admiral standing between them spoke calmly.
Dean D. Dollars — known to friends simply as Dean — looked young on the outside, but in truth he wasn't much younger than Garp or Sengoku.
"Sengoku-san, you know as well as I do," Dean said evenly. "If the monsters of the Rocks Pirates decide to erase this island, they can wipe it off the map in an instant."
Dean's appearance still carried a youthful edge, which earned him the teasing nickname "Youth" within headquarters, but he had fought alongside Garp and Sengoku for a full decade.
Ten years.
Ten years of blood, battles, and life-or-death moments.
They weren't brothers by blood — but they were closer than family.
That kind of bond could only be forged on the battlefield.
And yet, Dean carried a secret.
A secret he alone knew.
A secret he would never tell.
He wasn't originally from this world.
More precisely, in this world, Dean D. Dollars was a transmigrator.
Ten years ago, after dying in an accident in his previous life, he awakened in this vast and magnificent world of pirates. Along with his rebirth came a mysterious system — a so-called "God-Making System."
With that system, Dean began his journey toward becoming a god.
He had thrown himself into flames and bathed in magma.
He had hurled himself from ten-thousand-meter sky islands into the abyss of the deep sea.
He had survived countless brushes with death — and each time, he had grown stronger.
Little by little, his name began to spread across the seas.
But ten years ago, after meeting a certain beautiful female Navy captain, Dean ended his solo wanderings and officially joined the Marines.
During his decade in the Navy, he had made many comrades.
Iron Fist Garp.
"Sengoku the Buddha."
Black Arm Zephyr.
An Admiral who had quietly given him a lot of leeway during certain "incidents."
And…
Her.
...
"Hey, Dean, thinking about Tsuru-chan again?"
Garp suddenly grinned, looking like he had figured everything out. "Every time you make that face, you're thinking about her. You wanna go see her, don't you? She's on this island too, you know."
Dean shot him an annoyed look.
"Get outta here, Garp. Why would I miss her? I try to avoid her every time we run into each other. It's always a full lecture. She talks my ear off."
"Hahaha! Says the guy in denial!" Sengoku laughed. "You say no, but your actions say otherwise."
"Sengoku, I don't like what you're implying," Garp protested immediately. "You drag Dean into this, fine. But why am I catching strays?"
Dean smirked.
"Sengoku-san's not wrong. You were the one who swore you wouldn't step foot on God Valley. Said you were taking collective leave with us. And yet… here you are."
"I—"
Garp froze.
His face turned slightly red, and for once, he had nothing to say.
Because it was true.
When he first heard that the sea overlord Rocks D. Xebec was leading his crew to attack God Valley — an island practically treated like a sacred ground of Mary Geoise — his first instinct had been to refuse.
The justice in his heart didn't sit well with protecting the Celestial Dragons.
And yet…
He was standing here.
"Don't act all high and mighty, Dean," Garp shot back after a long pause. "You said the same thing about skipping this mess. And now you're standing here too."
Garp crossed his arms, wearing a smug look, clearly expecting Dean to stumble.
Dean shrugged casually.
"Don't get it twisted, Garp-san. I'm not here to protect the Celestial Dragons. I'm not here to guard this island either."
"Then what are you here for?" Garp asked, confused.
Dean's expression turned serious — but only for a moment.
"I'm here to protect you idiots."
"If you two die here, who's gonna keep me entertained for the next few decades?" he said with a grin. "Relax. As long as I'm standing, neither of you are dying on my watch."
Sengoku and Garp both rolled their eyes.
They wanted to argue.
But for a moment, neither of them could find the words.
Because that was Dean.
Confident to the point of arrogance.
Ridiculous.
Unreasonable.
But…
Never wrong when it counted.
"…They're here."
The sea horizon darkened.
And the real storm began.