Somewhere in the American Southwest, deep within the state of Texas, lay a forgotten little town known as San Venganza.
The settlement had been built in the middle of a vast stretch of desert.
During the days of the Gold Rush, countless dreamers had passed through its streets, hoping to strike it rich and build better lives for themselves.
For many of them, however, the town eventually became the final resting place of those very dreams.
Now, fewer than three hundred people remained in the town, most of them elderly residents who were unwilling to leave the land they called home.
Dilapidated wooden houses lined the banks of a dried-up riverbed, and the air was perpetually filled with the dry scent of dust.
Outside the church cemetery on the eastern edge of town stood a patch of ground that was, at best, barely level.
Carter Slade was crouching there, carefully wiping down the hind leg of a black horse with a damp piece of coarse cloth.
The old man’s fingers were rough from years of hard labor, yet his movements were remarkably gentle, as though he were tending to his most treasured family member.
The black horse snorted and flicked its tail.
“Easy, old friend.” Carter’s voice was low and hoarse.
“Just bear with me a little longer.”
Its mane gleamed in the sunlight, and the smooth lines of its muscular body gave it an untamed, rebellious air even while standing quietly.
Carter’s wrinkled hand gently stroked the horse’s back, and a trace of nostalgia appeared in his eyes.
Once upon a time, he too had been a cowboy knight, riding a warhorse like this one beneath a wide-brimmed hat and roaming freely across the western frontier.
Unfortunately, time spared no one.
His hair had long since turned white, and now all he could do was watch over this resting place of the dead and keep his old companion company.
The battered cowboy hat hanging beside the saddle was the only witness left to his glorious past.
Carter raised his head and narrowed his eyes at the distant desert.
The midday sun had turned the ground scorching hot, and the heat shimmered across his vision like rippling waves.
He remembered how, in his youth, he had ridden this very black horse across the desert in pursuit of those vague promises of adventure and freedom.
Now, all he wanted was to quietly guard this cemetery and keep company with his old friends who had long since been buried beneath the earth.
“Hey, old man, do you know where this place is? I seem to have lost my way home.”
Just as Carter was lost in his memories, a young and energetic voice came from behind him.
Carter turned around and saw a young man who immediately made him frown.
He stood about six feet tall and looked to be around twenty years old.
His short black hair glimmered faintly beneath the sunlight, and a few freckles dotted his cheeks.
Most eye-catching of all was the orange cowboy hat on his head.
A smiling-face badge and a frowning-face badge were pinned to its brim, while a skull ornament dangled from the hat cord.
A necklace of red beads hung around his neck, and he wore nothing but a pair of shorts.
More importantly, the kid was completely shirtless.
His bronze-colored skin revealed intricate tattoos covering both arms.
And throughout it all, he wore the kind of carefree, foolish grin that made it seem as though nothing in the world could possibly bother him.
Carter sized the young man up, his brow tightening almost imperceptibly.
To an old-fashioned cowboy like him, this outfit was nothing short of ridiculous.
The kid looked like some delinquent whose brain had been poisoned by so-called “cowboy culture,” imitating the shady characters from movies and putting together a bizarre getup for himself.
No matter how Carter looked at him, he certainly didn’t seem like a respectable fellow.
“This is San Venganza, Texas.” The old man’s tone was cold.
“Take State Route 63 north for twenty miles and you’ll reach the highway. Go on your way.”
With that, Carter turned around and resumed wiping down his horse, intending to ignore the strange young man.
But the young man didn’t leave.
Carter could hear footsteps behind him—light, carefree footsteps without the slightest hint of caution, as though the kid were simply taking a stroll through his own backyard.
He couldn’t help turning around again.
To his surprise, the kid had wandered into the cemetery on his own.
“Hey!” Carter raised his voice.
“That’s a cemetery!”
The young man turned around and grinned.
“I know, old man. I’ve seen plenty of cemeteries. They’re nothing to be afraid of.”
As he spoke, he actually walked into the cemetery, weaving between the weathered gravestones.
Every so often, he would stop to look at the names and dates engraved on them, muttering to himself.
“1867 to 1902… Tch. He only lived to thirty-five. What a shame.”
“I wonder how my stupid little brother will be after I’m gone… He’ll probably be really sad. After all, he’s already lost one brother… and then he’ll lose another…” He paused and scoffed softly.
“I can already imagine how ugly he’ll cry.”
“I really wish I could see his face when that happens. I’d laugh at him and say, ‘Since when does an older brother have no reason to protect his little brother? What are you crying for?!'”
The young man continued muttering something under his breath, but Carter could no longer make out the words.
It seemed that something had stirred up memories within him.
His foolish grin had disappeared, and he stood there staring blankly at a bouquet of flowers in the cemetery.
Carter rose to his feet, intending to tell him off, but suddenly found himself unsure of what to say.
The kid’s behavior was certainly strange, but he hadn’t actually done anything disrespectful.
He was simply…
far too casual.
A few minutes later, the young man finished walking around the cemetery.
His spirits had returned, and he came strolling back toward Carter with light, carefree steps.
His eyes immediately locked onto the black horse.
“Wow! What a cool horse!”
He reached out, intending to touch the horse’s mane.
“Don’t!”
Carter slapped his hand away.
“This horse has a bad temper. Be careful or it’ll bite you.”
Carter’s exasperation was practically overflowing.
He had lived this long and had never encountered someone so completely oblivious to other people’s reactions and so determined to do whatever he pleased.
His social skills were almost impressively terrible.
“It won’t, it won’t.” The young man grinned.
“Animals all like me.”
He reached out again.
This time, Carter didn’t manage to stop him.
Unexpectedly, the normally proud black horse didn’t resist at all.
Instead, it gently rubbed its head against the young man’s palm.
Carter froze.
His old companion had been with him for countless years and, apart from Carter himself, never allowed anyone else to touch it.
Even the merchants in town who had tried to buy the horse had been kicked flying the moment they approached.
“See? I told you.” The young man turned toward Carter, his smile growing even brighter.
“Old man, you’ve taken really good care of this horse. Its muscles are perfect. Were you a knight once?”
“…That was a long time ago. Back then, I was still—”
Carter’s voice carried a complicated emotion.
His eyes inadvertently swept across the young man’s back when the latter turned around.
His words abruptly stopped.
His eyes froze.
In the center of the young man’s broad back was a huge and unmistakable tattoo.
It depicted a skull with a pair of upward-curving white whiskers resembling a crescent moon.
Behind the skull were two crossed leg bones.
The entire design was rendered in pure black, exuding an aura of dominance and untamed freedom.
That symbol…
Carter Slade had lived a very long time.
He had seen more strange things than most people had ever heard stories about.
He had made deals with devils and dealt with angels.
An ordinary tattoo should never have caught his attention like this.
But this particular symbol seemed to resonate faintly with fragments of knowledge buried deep within his memories—knowledge concerning contracts and souls.
Carter slowly lowered his hand.
His expression changed.
The scrutiny and impatience of the old cowboy quietly faded away, replaced by a deep curiosity tinged with an urge to investigate.
This grinning, shirtless, bizarre young man was clearly not as simple as he appeared.
“Kid, what’s your name?”
Carter questioned the young man in his weathered voice.
“Me?”
The young man grinned, revealing a row of white teeth.
“My name is Portgas D. Ace! Old man, you can call me Ace!”