Teach Joins the Whitebeard Pirates

Newgate slowly walked up to the boy.

His towering figure drew closer like a low-hanging storm cloud, swallowing Teach whole in its shadow.

The sunlight vanished, and even the air seemed to grow heavy.

The pressure he made no effort to hide came naturally to a man who had stood among the strongest for years.

Anyone else would have instinctively backed away.

But Teach did not move.

Newgate looked down at him, his voice deep and resonant.

"Kid."

"Who are you?"

Teach raised his head and met those eyes, deep as the sea. There was no fear in his gaze, only an almost stubborn calm.

"My name is Marshall D. Teach."

"You came looking for my father, didn't you?"

Newgate visibly froze for a moment.

Teach offered no further explanation. He simply turned and walked deeper into the forest.

"Please follow me."

Newgate and Marco exchanged a glance.

Without hesitation, they followed him.

The path through the woods gradually narrowed.

Branches crossed overhead, cutting the sunlight into scattered patches on the ground.

The soft earth beneath their feet slowly gave way to hard, cold stone.

The air grew still.

The trees shut out the wind, and even the chirping insects grew faint.

Until—

The view suddenly opened up.

A hidden clearing lay enclosed by the natural contours of the mountain, like a corner deliberately cut off from the world.

The wind stopped there.

Even time seemed to slow.

Four gravestones stood quietly in the middle of the clearing.

Two large, two small.

Their surfaces had been carefully cleaned. The edges were spotless, with no moss or weeds in sight.

Someone clearly came to tend them often.

Newgate stopped.

His gaze moved slowly over the inscriptions, one stone at a time.

At last—

It locked on one gravestone.

His pupils contracted