Skypiea.
Skypiea, Upper Yard.
Following the orders of the Thunder God, Beelzebub Seven, the Skypiean council led by Gan Fall and Calpa was distributing land to the people.
The strongest warriors from both peoples had all been drafted into the Thundercloud Guard and were responsible for maintaining order.
Of course, the Thundercloud Guard answered only to the Thunder God.
Even though Seven alone could easily wipe out all of Skypiea, he still kept military authority firmly in his own hands to avoid unnecessary trouble.
He had come to Skypiea not to kill people, but to find a place where he could train quietly without being disturbed by the World Government or the Marines.
While land distribution proceeded in full swing, Seven, the Thunder God, was alone before the Poneglyph, practicing his punches.
To awaken Armament Haki on his own, Seven imitated Garp’s method of training, punching the Poneglyph barehanded.
It was said that Garp had once trained his fists by destroying eight mountains without using Armament Haki.
After smashing those eight mountains, he had flattened the pointed head of Chinjao with a single punch.
Ever since Seven had made up his mind to buy Iron Balloon, he no longer had enough points left to purchase Armament Haki or Observation Haki.
Unless another rich brother like Warhammer Bro, who had so many points he could not spend them all, bought the most expensive Reject Dial.
But the chances of that were practically zero.
After all, Captain Roger’s saber, Ace, one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades, had a system purchase price of only ten thousand points.
Yet Seven had listed the Reject Dial for the same price.
His strategy was simple: only earn points from the rich.
Before the Poneglyph.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Seven swung his bloodied fists, punching the stone tablet again and again.
Training punches was a dull, tedious process.
Especially when Seven’s mind was full of one thought:
Why hasn’t Warhammer Bro placed an order yet?
“9,999…”
“10,000…”
After twelve hours, he successfully completed the day’s training: three laps around Skypiea, ten thousand punches, ten thousand push-ups, and ten thousand kicks.
Seven was already soaked in sweat, and salt stains had even appeared on his face and arms.
But to become stronger, all of this was worth it.
If he wanted to choose his own life, if he wanted to live freely, without restraint, doing as he pleased, then he had to become strong.
Because the weak had no right to choose.
They never had.
On the evening of the first day of November, Seven finished washing up and lay in bed, his eyes showing a trace of helplessness.
Warhammer Bro had not placed an order.
Late at night on the second day: Warhammer Bro still had not placed an order.
Morning of the third day: still no order.
On the fourth day, early morning.
The next major event, if I remember correctly, should be two years from now, when the Marines launch the Buster Call on Ohara.
As for Ohara, Nico Robin’s homeland, Seven sincerely respected those scholars.
They were a group of fools who were almost endearing.
In a world where the government used bans to cover up the history of the Void Century, the scholars of Ohara chose to stand on the side of humanity’s instinct to seek knowledge and the justice of history.
Just as Professor Clover had shouted before his death: “We must pass down the truth of history!”
They were clear-eyed martyrs.
They knew the danger, yet still chose to touch the world’s core secrets.
Not because they had a death wish, but because their conscience and mission as historians made it impossible for them to ignore the hidden hundred years.
It was like not understanding why Daiyu cried in the past.
When you finally understood, tears would flow before you knew it.
Only by understanding the history that had been erased could one truly respect history.
When the time comes, I should still make a trip there.
Even if he could not save the people, he could at least transfer the books from the Tree of Knowledge.
Whatever the World Government opposed, Seven would support.
As a former member of the Roger Pirates who had once reached Laugh Tale, Seven was naturally on the opposite side of the World Government.
Withdrawing his wandering thoughts, Seven continued his day-after-day training on Skypiea.
…
East Blue, Foosha Village.
The reason the East Blue was called the weakest sea was inseparably linked to Garp, who had been born in Foosha Village.
After escorting Roger to Loguetown for execution, Garp followed his usual routine and patrolled the East Blue, dealing with every pirate who dared show their head before returning to his hometown.
He planned to rest properly for a while.
He had chased Roger for half his life.
Now that Roger was suddenly gone, Garp felt an emptiness from losing his goal, as if most of his spirit had been abruptly pulled away.
A strange confusion rose in his heart.
Garp had not forgotten the request Roger made when he had visited him in Impel Down.
To avoid attracting attention, Garp decided he would secretly go to Baterilla in the South Blue after some time and find Roger’s wife, Portgas D.
Rouge.
However, the moment Garp stepped into his old house in Foosha Village, his jaw nearly hit the floor.
A pregnant woman with long pink hair, freckles on her face, and a swollen belly was sitting inside his old house, basking in the sun.
“What?!”
“Are you Dragon’s wife?”
Aside from his dear son Monkey D.
Dragon, Garp could not think of anyone else who would bring a pregnant woman to live in his old house.
The woman stood and smiled.
“I can be.”
“Can be?”
Garp froze. New chapters come out on g.com first.
If she could be, then she was not.
A flash of light suddenly crossed his mind, and Garp hurriedly shut the door before asking in a low voice, “Rouge?”
Rouge nodded.
Hiss.
Garp sucked in a cold breath.
“That’s not right.
Shouldn’t you be in the South Blue right now?”
Roger had explained it clearly back then, and Garp remembered it just as clearly: Baterilla in the South Blue…
Rouge poured Garp a cup of tea.
“Three months ago, Ro… he had someone bring me here.”
“Who?”
Garp asked quickly.
“Beelzebub Seven.”
Hearing that, Garp scratched his head.
“I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”
Rouge reminded him, “His hair is white.”
The figure in Garp’s memory suddenly became clear, and he muttered, “That white-haired brat whose cooking was especially good.”
As if remembering something, Rouge returned to the room, took out a letter, and handed it to Garp.
“This is the letter he left for you.”
Garp took the envelope, opened it, and focused on the contents.
“To the great Marine Hero, Vice Admiral Garp.”
“At Mr.
Dragon’s request, I have brought your daughter-in-law, Portgas D.
Rouge, to your hometown.
Mr.
Dragon has named your grandson Ace.
For the sake of Ace’s future growth, please do not tell him his father’s identity.”
“If you do not like the name Ace, you may change it to something else.
I suggest Luffy.”
“You wouldn’t want the World Government to learn that this child’s father is the leader of the Freedom Fighters, would you?”
After reading it once, Garp deliberately looked up at Rouge.
“He told you too?”
Rouge nodded.
“And you agreed?”
Rouge nodded again.
Garp thought for two seconds, then lowered his head and carefully read the letter several more times, word by word, before finally understanding the hidden meaning.
Old man Garp, Ace is your biological grandson now.
Don’t mention Roger again.