The massive hull of the Groseade cut through the calm waters of the Grand Line, its imposing silhouette a testament to the destructive power of its captain. Byrnndi World stood at the bow, his scarred face twisted into a permanent scowl as he gazed across the endless expanse of ocean.
Behind him, his crew worked with practiced efficiency, maintaining the ship's various weapons systems and preparing for the confrontation that World had been planning since his escape from Impel Down. The years of frozen imprisonment had done nothing to dull his hatred, if anything, the forced stasis had condensed his rage into something pure and focused.
"Captain," came a gruff voice from behind him. Bojack, his most trusted subordinate and the voice of reason among his crew, approached with obvious reluctance. The large man's weathered face bore the weight of concerns that World had little patience for. "Are you certain about this course of action?"
World didn't turn around, his gaze fixed on the horizon where their target would soon appear. "Having second thoughts, Bojack? After all these years of sailing, all the preparation, you choose now to question my judgment?"
"It's not your judgment I question, World. It's the timing." Bojack moved to stand beside World, his voice lowering to avoid the rest of the crew overhearing. "The Marines... they're not the same force we faced before your imprisonment. Things have changed."
World's hand clenched into a fist. "Changed? They're still the same dogs who serve the World Government. Still the same corrupt bastards that condemned me to that frozen hell."
"They killed Whitebeard," Bojack said quietly, the words hanging in the air like a death sentence. "Edward Newgate, the strongest man in the world, is dead. Executed at Marineford along with Portgas D. Ace. The entire Whitebeard Pirates fleet was crushed."
The revelation still felt surreal, even days after the news had reached them. Whitebeard had been a force of nature, a living legend whose very existence had helped maintain the delicate balance of power in the New World. His death sent shockwaves through the pirate world that were still reverberating.
World's expression darkened further. "Whitebeard grew soft in his old age. Sentimental fool, caring more about his 'sons' than his own power. If he'd fought with the same ruthlessness that made him legendary, those Marines would have been crushed beneath his feet."
"World, you weren't there. The reports... Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself fought Whitebeard and won. Sure Whitebeard was old and weak, but it doesn't dismiss Sengoku's strength. And it wasn't just him. All three Admirals worked in perfect coordination. Even the traitorous Warlord Blackbeard and his crew were wiped out when they tried to interfere."
Bojack's words carried genuine concern, but World waved them away with dismissive contempt. "Propaganda and exaggeration. The World Government wants the world to believe their Marines are invincible. They've always been skilled at spreading fear through lies and half-truths."
"What if it's not lies?" Bojack pressed, his voice taking on an edge of desperation. "What if they really have become something more powerful than before? Your plan to attack their transport ship, it's exactly the kind of provocation that will bring their full attention down on us."
World finally turned to face his subordinate, his eyes burning with decades of accumulated hatred. "Good. Let them come. Let them send their Admirals and their fleets. I want them to know that Byrnndi World has returned, and that their crimes against me will not go unpunished."
"This isn't about justice, World. This is about revenge. And revenge makes men stupid."
The rest of the crew immediately stopped their work, tension crackling through the air as they watched their captain's rage manifest.
"Stupid?" World's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I spent thirty years frozen in that hell because of them. Thirty years watching the world change while I remained trapped in ice, my body aging and dying while I could do nothing. And you call my desire for revenge 'stupid'?"
World's eyes swept across his crew, and for a moment, something cold and calculating flickered in his gaze. These men had once been his comrades, his trusted allies who'd shared his dreams of conquest. Now they were merely tools, useful instruments for his revenge, nothing more. The betrayal that had led to his capture had taught him a valuable lesson: trust was a luxury he could no longer afford.
"You forget your place, Bojack," World continued, his fingers flexing with barely contained violence. "You're here because you're useful to me. All of you are. The moment you cease to be useful..." He let the threat hang in the air, unfinished but perfectly clear.
Bojack, his expression a mixture of hurt and resignation. He remembered the old World, the captain who'd treated his crew like family, who'd shared his dreams of freedom with them and valued their opinions. That man had died in Impel Down, replaced by this hollow shell consumed by hatred.
But his expression remained resolute. "I call it suicide. The World Government has been consolidating power since Marineford. Their recruitment numbers have tripled. New Vice Admirals, And Sengoku..." his voice lacking its earlier conviction. He shook his head grimly. "The man who defeated Whitebeard isn't someone we can face directly and expect to survive."
World's laugh was bitter and devoid of warmth. "Survive? You think I care about survival? I died thirty years ago in that frozen hell. What stands before you now is something else entirely, a force of nature dedicated to a single purpose. Survival is for those who have something to live for."
The crew exchanged worried glances.
Gairam, the shipwright, Sebastian the blind Wotan and the others who'd known the old World felt the loss more keenly, they served not out of loyalty anymore, but out of fear and the absence of alternatives.
"Captain," Sebastian ventured carefully, "perhaps we could consider a more... strategic approach? Hit softer targets first, build our strength before taking on the World Government directly?"
World's gaze fixed on the half-fishman with the intensity of a predator evaluating prey. "Are you questioning my methods, Sebastian?"
Sebastian's face paled, and he quickly shook his head. "No, Captain. Your plan is perfect. I was merely suggesting tactical considerations."
"Good." World's voice carried the finality of pronouncing a sentence. "Remember, all of you, we were friends. We were family. We were comrades bound by shared dreams. Not anymore. You are my weapons, nothing more. Weapons that I will use to carve my revenge from the flesh of my enemies. And when this is over, when the World Government lies in ruins and their Marine dogs are feeding the fish, only then will I consider what comes next."
From the crow's nest above, Gairam called down. "Captain! The cannon modifications are complete. We've finished calibrating the targeting system."
World's scarred face twisted into something resembling a smile. For days, his crew had been working to upgrade their ship's primary weapon, a massive cannon capable of firing projectiles enhanced by World's Moa Moa no Mi powers. The combination of his fruit's multiplication abilities with advanced artillery would give them destructive capability to annhilate an island.
"Excellent." World strode toward the weapon emplacement, his crew parting before him like a sea of nervous energy. The cannon itself was a work of art, sleek, deadly, and sized to accommodate the massive shells that World's power could transform into city-destroying projectiles.
Gairam came beside the cannon, "The recoil dampeners are calibrated for projectiles up to one hundred times normal size. The targeting computer can calculate trajectories for your enhanced ammunition with ninety-seven percent accuracy."
"And the special rounds?" World inquired, running his hand along the cannon's polished surface.
"Twenty-four shells loaded with explosive compounds designed to maximize damage on impact. With your power amplifying them, each shot will have the destructive force of a small meteor."
World nodded approvingly, though his satisfaction was tinged with the cold calculation that had replaced his former passion. This was what he'd been building toward, not for glory or conquest as in the old days, but purely as an instrument of destruction. The perfect fusion of technology and Devil Fruit power that would allow him to strike at his enemies with unprecedented force.
The World Government and their Marine dogs had grown comfortable in their victory, confident in their assumed invincibility. It was time to remind them that legends didn't die easily.
"Captain!" The lookout's voice carried across the deck with urgent excitement. "Ship spotted on the horizon! World Government colors, heading directly into our intercept course!"
World's eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction. "Perfect timing. How long until they're in range?"
"Fifteen minutes at current speed, Captain. They don't seem to have spotted us yet."
"Maintain course and speed. Let them come closer before we reveal ourselves." World turned to address his crew, his voice carrying the authority of a man who'd commanded respect through fear and strength for decades. "This is what we've been preparing for. Today, the world learns that Byrnndi World has returned, and that thirty years in hell have only made me more dangerous."
The crew responded with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy, each man understanding the significance of what they were about to attempt. This wouldn't just be a simple pirate attack, it would be a declaration of war against the current world order.
**************************************
Several miles away, Admiral Kizaru laid on a sunbed on the bridge of his Marine warship, hands clasped behind his head as he observed the calm seas ahead. The afternoon sun reflected off his yellow-tinted glasses.
"Admiral," his aide approached with a communication transponder in hand. "Latest intelligence update on the target's position."
"Oh my," Kizaru drawled, accepting the device with characteristic laziness. "How troublesome. And here I was hoping for a peaceful cruise."
The voice crackling through the transponder belonged to Marine Intelligence's tracking division. "Target confirmed eighteen kilometers northeast of your current position. Byrnndi World's ship is maintaining steady course toward the World Government transport. Estimated intercept in fourteen minutes."
Kizaru glanced at his watch with deliberate slowness. Fleet Admiral Sengoku's orders had been quite specific, allowing World to make his intentions clear before intervention. The timing was almost perfect, but Kizaru found himself curious about his superior's true motivations.
"Current distance to target?" he asked the navigation officer.
"Thirty-two kilometers, Admiral. At maximum speed, we could reach intercept range in eight minutes."
"Hmm." Kizaru's tone remained maddeningly casual. "Maintain current speed. No need to rush into things, after all."
His subordinates exchanged glances but knew better than to question an Admiral's orders. Still, the delay seemed unusual for a high-priority interdiction mission. The World Government transport was carrying important cargo, the kind that couldn't be easily replaced if destroyed.
"Admiral," the communications officer called out, "we're receiving distress frequencies from the transport ship. They've spotted World's vessel and are requesting immediate assistance."
Kizaru's expression didn't change, though his fingers drummed once against his crossed arms. "How unfortunate. Relay a message that we're en route and should arrive... shortly."
The deliberately vague timeframe left his crew uncertain, but they followed orders without question. Through the bridge windows, they could see smoke rising in the distance, evidence that the confrontation they'd been sent to prevent was already beginning.
"Prepare for combat," Kizaru commanded, his usual lazy demeanor taking on a sharper edge. "It seems our peaceful cruise is about to become rather exciting."