Chapter 41

Trebol twisted his viscous body, his snot wobbling with his laughter.

"Hah! Sooner or later, this sea will kneel at our feet!"

An illusory crown was reflected in Diamante's eyes.

"Hee... wherever Doffy points, I'll smash right through."

Pica's voice was as shrill as a knife scraping glass, but his gaze was as hard as tempered iron.

"Hmph, don't celebrate too soon.

Our fists will have to be ten times harder from now on."

Vergo folded his arms, his voice weighted with solid practicality.

"Fufufu... from this day on, family will extend beyond blood.

This world will eventually fall into our hands."

Doffy spread his arms, as though already embracing an invisible domain.

"Well, at a time like this, shouldn't we be filling our stomachs?"

Rossi clapped his hands, his knuckles giving a faint crack.

The power dormant within his body had finally awakened. Coupled with the vows they had just made, no rite could have suited the occasion better than a lavish feast.

He licked the corner of his mouth. "A perfect chance to try that 'Life Return' way of eating."

Laughter in all different pitches struck the walls and bounced back, mingling with the smell of liquor and youthful ambition.

That afternoon, an insignificant starting point was watered with liquor and began to take root.

Several days later, at the docks.

A salty, fishy wind swept against their faces, carrying the cries of seagulls.

"Steady!"

"Quick, get that crate onto the deck-"

The brief rasp of mooring ropes slipping off bollards rang out. Heavy canvas slowly unfurled on the masts, catching the air blowing from the harbor.

This enormous sailing ship, once named the "Money,"

now bore newly carved letters on its bow spelling out another name. Its massive bulk began to move, leaving the concrete of Dock One behind.

The figures bustling across the deck were no longer lavishly dressed guests, but workers carrying wooden crates and securing cargo.

The exquisite furnishings had long since vanished. Exposed rivets and thick oak planks revealed the original intent behind the ship's construction: it had been a steel beast born for battle.

Standing shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the dock as it gradually receded, two figures watched the ship adjust its course.

The taller one gave a low laugh.

"Now that name fits."

His slightly shorter companion did not join in the laughter, merely watching calmly as the hull cut through the gray-green seawater. "It's only a stopgap,"

he said, his voice scattered somewhat by the sea breeze. "The people who built it only intended it to stay in the North Blue."

Had they not taken it over, this ship might never have left this berth in its entire life. "When we need one later, we can commission a ship from that water city famous for shipbuilding."

There was a certain assurance in his tone when he mentioned that city.

An old craftsman there had once built a ship for a legendary figure to sail across the Grand Line.

Only a ship built by hands like those could withstand the wind and waves.

"Before that, we'll have to find that legendary kind of tree for the materials."

The ropes were fully drawn aboard, and the sails filled with wind.

The bow cleaved through the waves as the ship began picking up speed northward.

At the rear of the deck, a figure as silent as stone controlled the helm.

The ship left the harbor's shelter and entered open water.

"The place we're heading to is called Acanlia."

The shorter one turned toward the others beside him and began explaining the purpose of this voyage.

The metal components produced in their factories would be assembled into mobile vehicles in that country's workshops.

Those vehicles would then pass through Acanlia into a trade network consisting of five kingdoms.

On the return trip, the holds would be filled with quality meat shipped out of that alliance, bound for the Kingdom of Rafal-where chimneys belched thick smoke year-round and the land struggled to produce enough food.

If the calculations worked out, the difference earned from trading goods on this voyage would be an astonishing sum.

That did not even account for the fact that the goods serving as their initial capital had originally belonged to a Family that no longer existed.

Profit always lured people into braving pirate-infested shipping routes.

That alliance, called "Entegre,"

had a rather unusual structure.

Of its five kingdoms, three flew flags bearing the World **'s emblem and paid an expensive tribute to those atop the Red Line each year.

The other two lacked that status. Geographically surrounded by the first three, they had no coastline facing the open sea, which also spared them most raids from the sea.

They paid protection money in another form.

"This way, five countries only have to shoulder three shares of tribute."

The explanation paused briefly, as though something had come to mind, and a faint trace of mockery entered the speaker's voice. "So their lives are fairly tolerable, on the surface."

The sea breeze grew stronger, carrying grains of salt and unfamiliar scents from afar.

The hull tilted slightly as the ship followed its set course deeper into the colder reaches of the North Blue.

The dock's wooden planks gave rapid, muffled thuds beneath running feet as a slender shadow sprinted toward them from the distance.

"Wait-hey!"

The figure suddenly leaped while shouting, tracing a wet, gleaming arc through the air before landing with a slap on the gunwale of the ship that had just weighed anchor.

The deck dipped slightly under the sudden weight.

The newcomer staggered forward, nearly thrusting his entire face in front of Rossi's, words tumbling out like beans from a sack.

"Let's go together after all, I say, we're better off sticking together-"

Too close.

Rossi could even see the flecks of spit flying beneath the brim of the other man's hat. He took half a step back.

"Aren't you supposed to stay ashore?"

A few minutes earlier, when the ship was preparing to cast off, they had already decided who would stay behind.

Now, besides Rossi and Doffy, the other three figures on deck were also looking over.

The tall man carrying a long sword frowned.

"Are we just going to abandon everything we worked so hard to build?"

The man who had flung himself aboard raised a hand to adjust the round hat on his head.

Managing thousands upon thousands of people and handling money that flowed like water every day were certainly tempting prospects.

But some things unsettled him more than those.

"I'm afraid... afraid you'll leave me behind."

Staying in that town and watching over the businesses they already owned would certainly make for an easy life.

But he knew perfectly well that if he remained ashore, perhaps it would not be long before his reflection no longer appeared in the spray this ship stirred up as it sailed.

Rossi turned to look at the person beside him who had remained silent.

Doffy nodded.

"If he wants to come, let him."

"But things ashore-"

"Already taken care of."

Rossi cut off the worried words, his gaze sweeping over the receding outline of the docks. "When I promoted Bolkin, I gave him instructions.

If anyone left, he would take over temporarily."

The boy named Bolkin had followed them all along, doing odd jobs: carrying things, delivering messages, running errands to gather information... he had no earth-shattering achievements to his name, but he had put in plenty of hard work on mundane tasks.

After they took down the Jedi Family, he had gained an official position of sorts.

"Of course, he's still inexperienced.

I asked Wesker to keep an eye on things, and I also hired Germa's people to stay there. They'll serve as both protection and a deterrent."

The hull pushed through the water, and the town called Spandamruze was slowly becoming a blurred silhouette.

Rossi withdrew his gaze, his voice calm.

"Don't forget how we got that wealth and status in the first place.

-as long as we still hold the power, no one will dare lay a hand on what's ours."

Back in his former world, if a company's senior executives had dared disappear together for months, the managers and lawyers beneath them would have long since stripped the company bare.

But here, anyone who did that would face a reckoning sooner or later, dragging their entire family down to the seabed with them.

"You little brat-"

Trebol bent his two-meter-tall body, wrapped an arm around Rossi, and vigorously mussed his blond hair with a rough palm.

"You clearly had everything planned out already, so why wait until now to say anything? Hmm?"

"Whether to board the ship or stay and guard the place was your decision to make. Why should I choose for you?"

Outwardly, Rossi rolled his eyes and feigned impatience, but deep down, he felt a faint sense of relief.

After all, they had been through life and death together. Continuing the journey together would be better than leaving him behind alone.

Although the Slime-Slime Devil Fruit had obvious weaknesses and caught fire easily, as long as Trebol trained his Armament Haki to the point where it could coat the outside of his body, he could use Haki to keep the flames out and compensate for that flaw.

"Since you've decided to sail with us, starting today, it's a hundred push-ups, a hundred sit-ups, and a hundred squats every day. Not a single one less."

"That's way too-"

Before Trebol could finish, Rossi pointed his thumb behind him.

On deck, Pica and Vergo had already turned into human exercise machines, rising and falling in silent, regular motions.

For them, that amount of training was as effortless as breathing.

"That's not all."

Rossi took a thin loop from his pocket, with a ring dangling from it.

"This ring contains Seastone powder. It'll suppress Devil Fruit users."

Watching Trebol's expression abruptly freeze, Rossi pointed first at Doffy, then at himself, and finally leveled his index finger at him.

"The three of us Devil Fruit users will take turns wearing it while we train."

"No way!"

Trebol flung himself toward the rail and stared at the shrinking port city, on the verge of tears.

"Is it still early enough to let me off?"

"Of course."

Rossi answered without hesitation.

Trebol wiped the wet streaks off his face and turned around.

"Forget it... I can't swim anyway."

Tch, you could clearly use your power to walk back along the seabed.

Rossi did not expose that awkward little pretense, merely closing his hand around the Seastone ring.

A heavy weakness immediately spread throughout his body, as though his muscles and bones had been drained away.

"Then I'll go first."

More sweat in training, less blood in battle.

Clutching the ring, he began doing push-ups despite the weakness.

Sweat soon struck the deck, splashing into dark circles.

That desperate drive made Trebol quietly wipe his brow beside him.

Was I really getting too old to keep up with their drive?

At only nineteen, Trebol questioned his life for the first time.

On the ship's deck.

"I keep feeling we're still missing something."

The edge of the oak barrel creaked under the pressure.

His gaze sweeping over everyone from behind his lenses, Doffy adjusted the rim of his sunglasses.

"We can't put this off any longer."

The man opposite him still had breadcrumbs on his face. His head, wearing square lenses, nodded.

Vergo said nothing, merely letting a muffled grunt of agreement roll out of his throat.

Pica repeatedly scratched his fingers through his hair before finally lowering his hand and choosing silence.

The smell of sweat arrived before the figure did.

Rossi shook his soaking bangs, the heat left by the friction of sword blades still faintly burning beneath his skin. "What are you discussing?"

"The Family needs a face."

Doffy tapped his fingertips against the barrel. "A symbol that belongs to us alone."

"True."

Vergo finally spoke, his voice like compacted earth. "We can't be careless about it."

Rossi wiped away the bead of sweat hovering on the verge of falling from his chin.

He understood-even though the ship had yet to fly a pirate flag, deep down, these people craved a unique mark of their own.

A fleeting image rose from the depths of his memory: a wide grin, a pointed hat, a skull's eye sockets curved in mocking arcs.

But the image was too blurry, as though seen through fogged glass.

"Let's each draw one."

He suggested, "Then we vote."

Doffy nodded.

Even Trebol, who had been sprawled in a corner, squirmed closer, his sticky body leaving wet streaks across the floor.

Rossi caught sight of that sweat-drenched body, practically melting, and thought the man merely wanted an excuse to slack off.

"I'll do it!"