New World—Hachinosu.
The sea wind, thick with salty stench, battered the reefs again and again, spraying white foam everywhere.
A massive pale-yellow skull-shaped mountain squatted at the center of the island. Its hollow eye sockets were deep as an abyss, as if they were watching over the entire island.
A small window was set into its nasal bone, while a warm orange layer of rock shaped like a bandana extended from its right side.
Beneath the mountain, layers upon layers of ocher stone buildings spread outward along the terrain.
Chaotic, crowded, savage—like a nest that never stopped devouring and expanding.
Palm trees and reefs crisscrossed one another, while pirate ships crowded the azure sea.
Masts stood thick as a forest, and sails snapped loudly in the wind.
This place—
Was Paradise for pirates.
Inside the skull palace, the air was stifling.
The smell of alcohol, blood, and sea wind mingled together.
Ochoku sat in the seat of honor with an imposing air.
He held a newspaper in one hand and tore off a chunk of roasted meat with the other, stuffing it straight into his mouth.
Grease dripped from his fingers and splattered onto the table with soft plops.
He had a massive build and a bulging belly. His neck was so thick it was almost grotesque, folds of flesh piled beneath his chin and around his throat.
His face was rough and heavy. Though he appeared to be sitting there loosely, he made the entire hall feel several degrees more oppressive.
On the left side of the long table, Gaia lounged against his chair.
His upper body was bare, muscles piled up like Tekkai.
Old scars crisscrossed his body like the marks on a weapon tempered over and over again.
He casually flexed his fingers, the grinding of his