Some crew members cleared the human traffickers off the deck, while others headed down into the lower cabins to collect today’s spoils.
“Boss, there are quite a few slaves locked inside.
Probably over a hundred,” a crew member reported, walking out of the hatch to find Whitebeard.
“Gurarara!
Let’s go down and take a look,” Whitebeard replied, stepping immediately into the lower deck.
The dim room was filled with heavy iron cages, inside of which were numerous boys and girls dressed in tattered clothes.
They shivered uncontrollably, gazing with pure terror at Whitebeard and his crew as they entered.
There were dozens of similar cabins along the corridor, and the situation inside each one was exactly the same.
“Listen up, brats.
You’re free now.
You can use the lifeboats on this ship to leave in a little while,” Whitebeard announced, completely ignoring their fearful expressions.
However, several tens of seconds passed without a single response.
The freed slaves simply stared at Whitebeard and his crew with lingering dread.
It was highly likely they had suffered an immense amount of torture during their time in captivity.
Whitebeard didn’t mind the silence and calmly ordered his men to unlock and open every single cage.
Once everyone had stepped out of the cages, a child finally found the courage to speak up.
“My lords…
are you really going to just let us go?” Whitebeard glanced down at them.
“Yes.
You’re free.
Go on home.” “Yay!
That’s amazing!
We’re finally free!” The cabin instantly erupted into an uproar.
Some cheered and jumped for joy, while others broke down, weeping with relief.
Watching the freed slaves leave the area in groups using the lifeboats, Allen took a sip of his wine, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“People who yearn for freedom have finally returned to the sea.” Hearing Allen’s words, Whitebeard laughed heartily.
“Gurarara!
My boys, we need to prepare to set sail again!” “Oh!” The crew members who had gathered the treasures from the slave ship cheered loudly.
They carried the spoils back to their own warship with their hands and shoulders.
By the time the entire cargo had been moved and Allen and the others were preparing to head back to their own vessel, a crew member from the Second Division ran up to Whitebeard, leading a child by the hand.
“Boss, there’s still one child left here who hasn’t gone with the others.” Whitebeard looked behind the crew member, a puzzled expression on his face.
Hearing the commotion, Allen looked over as well.
A single glance was all it took—half-lidded dead fish eyes, and a bright yellow pineapple-shaped hairstyle.
Isn’t this damn Marco?
In the original timeline, he would become the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, a powerful user of the Mythical Zoan Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Phoenix, and Whitebeard’s absolute right-hand man.
So this is where they actually met.
Fate is truly mysterious!
Allen couldn’t help but exclaim inwardly.
“Kid, why didn’t you go home with the rest?” Whitebeard asked, looking down at the little runt standing in front of him.
“I’m someone who was abandoned by the world.
I don’t have anywhere to go back to,” Marco replied lifelessly, keeping his eyelids drooped.
Whitebeard stared deeply at Marco, his eyes softening with a touch of emotion.
After a long silence, the corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile, and he extended his massive hand toward the boy.
“Do you want to become my son, kid?” …
Standing to the side, Allen’s eyelids twitched violently.
It’s here!
The most classic line has officially arrived: “Be my son.” Allen couldn’t help but feel incredibly fortunate that he had been born seven or eight years earlier in this timeline.
Otherwise, when he first joined Whitebeard’s division, he would have definitely been hit with that exact line.
If that had happened, he probably would have drawn his sword and attacked on impulse.
In his original world, the title of “foster father” was an honor only reserved for a roommate who willingly brought back food in the dead of winter.
Little Marco’s eyes lit up instantly upon hearing the offer.
It was exactly like what he would say to Ace decades later: just because the man called them his sons, even if it was just a title, it brought them immense happiness.
Marco, whose parents had died when he was very young, had often been forced to steal things from villagers just to fill his stomach.
Over time, he became deeply detested by the locals, got driven out of town, and resorted to living by the sea.
Because he was starving, he had snuck onto the slave ship while it was docked at the shore for supplies, only to be discovered by Hank’s crew and forced into chains.
The next morning, after completing his daily physical training, Allen sat comfortably on the ship’s railing, casting a fishing line into the water.
“Big Brother Allen, can you take me fishing with you?” a shout came from behind.
It was Marco, who had now officially become Whitebeard’s son.
Hearing the title, a prominent pop-vein mark appeared on Allen’s forehead.
He suppressed the sudden urge to draw his sword, turning around to bark at the little pineapple-headed kid.
“It’s your own business if you want to call Whitebeard ‘Pops,’ but can you please stop calling me ‘Big Brother’?
You’re making me Newgate’s nephew for absolutely no reason!” Hearing this, Marco awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
“Then…
Uncle Allen?” “Sigh, forget it.
Let’s just stick to our own ways.
Call me whatever you want,” Allen muttered, feeling completely exhausted.
At seventeen, he really didn’t want to be aged up into a middle-aged uncle.
At that moment, Whitebeard stretched his massive arms and walked over toward them.
“Marco, Allen isn’t actually trying to catch fish here.
He’s using this to train his unique Observation Haki.” “What exactly is Observation Haki?” Marco asked, scratching his head in confusion.
“Observation Haki is a type of ability that allows you to clearly perceive enemy attacks.
It’s still far too early for you to worry about it,” Whitebeard explained, casually rubbing Marco’s pineapple head.
Hearing Whitebeard’s explanation, a flash of realization appeared in Allen’s eyes.
“Brother Newgate, you noticed?
Indeed, my specific Observation Haki allows me to communicate directly with the breath of all things.” “That’s so amazing!” Marco’s eyes sparkled with literal stars.
Allen had to admit, having a young kid around who could help him show off was excellent for the ego.
A bit of pure flattery made him feel quite carried away.
Whitebeard, on the other hand, looked genuinely shocked.
“I originally thought you could only communicate with wild animals.
Listening to the Voice of All Things…
you’re just like that man.” Allen raised an eyebrow and let out a silent sigh.
Roger, huh?
It seems those two have already crossed paths.
The sea is truly a small place.
“For the remainder of this voyage, let’s assign Marco to your Third Division first.
You should guide him a bit more,” Whitebeard said, dropping the topic of Haki.
Everyone possessed their own trump cards, and prying too deeply into a crewmate’s abilities was considered rude.
Instead, he turned the conversation to the arrangements for the boy.
“Isn’t that a bad idea?
I don’t have any actual experience teaching others,” Allen replied helplessly.
Had he really just been turned into a babysitter?
This guy’s speed of adopting sons in the future was going to be terrifying; at this rate, Allen was going to end up as the managing director of a floating nursery.
“What’s wrong with that?
I know you can handle it.
It’s settled then, Gurarara!” Whitebeard made the final decision directly, giving Allen absolutely no room to object.
“Got it, got it,” Allen grumbled under his breath.
You trust me?
You’re just finding it troublesome to take care of him yourself, and I’m just too polite to point it out.
Considering that Whitebeard had been quite diligent in teaching him Armament Haki, Allen decided he could tolerate looking after the kid for a year.
Besides, once the God Valley battle concluded next year, the entire Rocks Pirates would completely disband anyway.
Fortunately, Marco was quite sensible for his age.
Knowing he couldn’t help the crew in battle yet, he took the initiative to take over the daily cleaning duties on the ship.
This chore routine provided one of the few moments of actual peace Allen enjoyed since Marco boarded the ship.
The rest of the time, the boy was relentless.
“Big Brother Allen, can you teach me how to fight?” “Big Brother Allen, what exactly is Observation Haki?” “Big Brother Allen, what is Armament Haki?” “Big Brother Allen, what is Conqueror’s Haki?” “Are you a walking question mark?!” Allen finally snapped one afternoon.
“Can you please quiet down for a single moment?
Kids your age should just focus on eating and drinking more so you can actually grow.
Why are you asking so many questions?” It wasn’t that Allen was entirely unwilling to teach him, but what could anyone realistically expect a nine-year-old child to accomplish?
Just like that, Allen began his deeply irritating life on the ship, constantly pestered by Marco’s endless curiosity.