Warhammer Bro Was Silent

Skypiea, God's Island.

Following the orders of the lightning god Barzeb Seven, the Skypiea Council, led by Gan Fall and Calpa, was distributing land to the people.

The strongest warriors from both tribes had all been conscripted by the Thunder Cloud Guards to maintain order on-site.

Of course, the Thunder Cloud Guards answered only to the lightning god.

Even though Seven alone could easily wipe out all of Skypiea, he still kept military power firmly in his grasp to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Seven hadn't come to Skypiea to kill people. He wanted a quiet place to train, undisturbed by the World Government or the Marines.

While land distribution was in full swing, the lightning god Seven was alone in front of a Poneglyph, practicing his punches.

To awaken Armament Haki on his own, Seven mimicked Garp's training method, punching the Poneglyph bare-fisted.

It was said that Garp, without using Armament Haki, had once pulverized eight mountains with his fists alone to train. After crushing those eight mountains, Garp punched Chinjao, whose head was once sharp and pointed, into a flat-headed man.

Ever since deciding to buy the Iron Balloon, Seven's remaining points were no longer enough to purchase Armament Haki or Observation Haki.

Unless another rich guy like Warhammer Bro, with points to burn, came along and bought the most expensive Impact Dial.

But the odds of that were almost zero.

After all, Captain Roger's Paired Saber, one of the Supreme Grade Swords, Ace, was only worth ten thousand points on the system's buyback.

And Seven had sold the Impact Dial for the same price, banking entirely on milking points from the rich.

In front of the Poneglyph.

Thump~ Thump~ Thump~

Seven swung his bloodied fists, pounding the stone slab again and again.

Training punches was a dull, tedious process, especially when all Seven could think about was: Why hasn't Warhammer Bro placed his order yet?

"Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine..."

"Ten thousand..."

After twelve grueling hours, he completed the day's training: three laps around Skypiea, ten thousand punches, ten thousand push-ups, and ten thousand kicks.

Seven was drenched in sweat, with large patches of salt crystals forming on his face and arms.

But it was all worth it to grow stronger.

To choose his own life, to live without restraint, freely and as he pleased, he had to become a strong man.

Because the weak had no right to choose.

They never had.

On the evening of the first day of November, Seven finished washing up and lay in bed, a hint of resignation in his eyes: Warhammer Bro hadn't placed an order.

Late the next night: Warhammer Bro still hadn't placed an order.

The third morning: Still no order.

The fourth day, early morning.

Seven sat alone atop the Thunder God Palace, watching the sunrise on the horizon: "If I remember correctly, the next major event should be the Marines launching the Buster Call on Ohara two years from now."

For Nico Robin's hometown, Ohara, Seven felt genuine respect for those scholars.

They were a group of scholars who were foolish in an endearing way.

In a world where the government used decrees to cover up the history of the Void Century, the scholars of Ohara chose to stand on the side of humanity's instinct for knowledge and historical justice.

Just as Dr. Clover cried out in his final moments: "We must pass on the truth of history!"

They were clear-eyed martyrs.

Knowing the danger, they still chose to touch the world's core secrets, not out of a death wish, but because their conscience and mission as historians wouldn't allow them to turn a blind eye to the erased century of blank history.

It was like how you couldn't understand why Daiyu cried when you were young, but when you finally understood, you couldn't help but weep.

Only by understanding that erased history could you truly respect it.

"I'll go there when the time comes."

Even if he couldn't save the people, he could at least move the books from the Tree of All Knowledge.

Whatever the World Government opposed, Seven would support.

As a former member of the Roger Pirates who had once reached Laugh Tale, Seven was naturally on the opposite side of the World Government.

Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Seven continued his daily training on Skypiea, day after day.

East Blue, Foosha Village.

The East Blue was called the weakest sea, and that was inextricably linked to Garp, who hailed from Foosha Village.

After escorting Roger to Loguetown for his execution, Garp made his usual rounds in the East Blue, taking care of any pirates who dared to show their faces, before returning to his hometown.

He planned to rest for a good long while.

After chasing Roger for most of his life, Roger suddenly vanished, leaving Garp feeling an emptiness like he'd lost his purpose—as if most of his spirit had been yanked away, stirring a vague sense of bewilderment in his heart.

Garp hadn't forgotten: when Roger was locked up in Impel Down, Roger made a request during his prison visit.

To keep it under wraps, Garp decided to sneak off to Battila Island in the South Blue after a while to find Roger's wife, Portgas D. Rouge.

But the moment Garp stepped into his old house in Foosha Village, his jaw nearly hit the floor.

There was a pregnant woman with pink hair, freckles, and a big belly, sunbathing in his old home.

"What?!"

"Are you Dragon's wife?"

Aside from his Good Son, Monkey D. Dragon, Garp couldn't think of anyone else who'd bring a pregnant woman to live in his old house.

The woman stood up with a smile. "I could be."

"Could be?" Garp froze.

"Could be" meant she wasn't.

A flash of insight struck him, and Garp quickly shut the door, lowering his voice. "Rouge?"

Rouge nodded.

Hiss—Garp sucked in a sharp breath. "No way, shouldn't you be in the South Blue right now?"

Roger had made it very clear, and Garp remembered it well: Battila Island in the South Blue...

Rouge poured Garp a cup of tea. "Three months ago, he... had someone bring me here."

"Who?" Garp asked quickly.

"Barzeb Seven."

Hearing that, Garp scratched his head. "That name sounds familiar."

Rouge prompted, "He has white hair."

The vague figure in his memory sharpened, and Garp muttered, "That white-haired brat who cooks really well."

As if remembering something, Rouge went back to her room, retrieved a letter, and handed it to Garp.

"He left this for you."

Garp took the envelope, tore it open, and focused his eyes on it.

"To the great Hero of the Marines, Vice Admiral Garp."

"On Mr. Dragon's orders, I've specially delivered your daughter-in-law, Portgas D. Rouge, to your hometown. Mr. Dragon has named your grandson Ace. For Ace's future growth, please do not reveal his father's identity."

"If you don't like the name Ace, you can change it to something else. I suggest Luffy."

"You wouldn't want the World Government to find out this child's father is the leader of the Revolutionary Army, would you?"

After reading it once, Garp deliberately looked up at Rouge. "He told you all this?"

Rouge nodded.

"And you agreed?"

Rouge nodded again.

Garp thought for two seconds, then lowered his head and read it word by word several more times before grasping the letter's subtext.

[Old Man Garp, Ace is your real grandson]

[Don't bring up Roger anymore]