"The clamor of others and the world's upheavals were nothing but the backdrop.
What let us stand firm was always the hardness in our own bones."
"As long as we're hard enough, the waves of the age can't shatter us.
If we become hard enough... even turning the tide with our own hands may not be unimaginable."
"So, it's still not enough.
We have to keep honing ourselves."
Day after day of training had long since become part of their breathing.
Ever since that figure joined them, sweat and repetition had become the rhythm of daily life.
Fights to the death were an even more efficient catalyst.
The man who had swallowed the Gold Fruit could already summon black Armament Haki; the giant as silent as stone and his nimble-footed companion had also begun reaching the threshold of that invisible power.
Before long, the entire family would be enveloped in both forms of Haki.
Then, whatever storms they faced, they would be able to stand tall.
Newspaper-delivering wings swept across the sky, and the shadows they cast set the entire ocean alight.
"Pirate King"
-that title suddenly gave the outlaws scattered across the world a focal point around which to gather.
Countless ships swarmed toward that great sea route like fish scenting blood.
They hoped that "king"
would lead them in tearing back history's curtain: whether through a frenzy of plunder, a head-on collision with the flag of justice, or turning their weapons toward that sacred domain that had ruled for eight hundred years...
Or even dragging the "descendants of gods" who dwelled high above the clouds
down into the dirt.
It was not just pirates.
Undercurrents stirred in many nations as well.
Figures bearing the titles of generals, advisers, and even higher ranks led fleets once belonging to their