Somewhere in the New World, on an unknown island.
Dense vegetation covered most of the island.
Several people had gathered on its eastern side. A bonfire burned before them, with a wild ox roasting over it. Fat dripped into the flames and sizzled.
"Marco, calm down. You absolutely cannot go to this auction."
"That's right, Marco. There are only a few of us Whitebeard Pirates left. If something happens to you too..."
"The Whitebeard Pirates are already gone."
Marco had been sitting with his head bowed on a dead tree trunk. His voice was low.
"Marco, don't say that. If you..."
Curiel, the former commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' Tenth Division, broke off. He covered his eyes with a rough hand, and the burly man began to cry.
Their happy days were gone. After the Summit War and the Blackbeard Pirates' pursuit, fewer than ten members of the Whitebeard Pirates remained.
The rest had either died in battle or retired with grievous wounds.
"I've made up my mind. Pops' Devil Fruit was taken, and no one knows where Ace's went. Now that Jozu's has appeared, I have to get it back."
Marco rose, opened a large bag of valuables beside him, and divided part of its contents among the others.
"Marco, what are you doing?"
Izo sprang to his feet, his lips trembling.
At Izo's question, Marco gave a bitter smile.
"If I don't come back, disband the Whitebeard Pirates. Pops is gone. Maybe that bastard was right. The moment Pops died, the Whitebeard Pirates were already finished."
A pair of blue-green wings of flame spread from his back. Ignoring the others' attempts to stop him, Marco flew resolutely into the sky.
"Marco, don't go!"
"Marco!"
"Ace left like that too. Maybe it's fate."
The others sighed in despair. Who