Chapter 250

[WANTED]

[DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[2,520,500,000 BERRY]

[WANTED]

[FUJITORA ISSHO]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[1,698,000,000 BERRY]

[WANTED]

[DIAMANTE]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[652,000,000 BERRY]

[WANTED]

[SENOR]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[711,100,000 BERRY]

[WANTED]

[DONQUIXOTE ROSINANTE]

[DEAD OR ALIVE]

[3,394,800,000 BERRY]

I glanced down at the bounty posters, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. The World Government had finally decided to raise our bounties again, though I couldn't help but find it amusing.

Doffy's and Issho's bounty saw the highest increase; maybe now the Elders started to realize the true extent of Doffy's danger, but they were also being cautious about not raising our bounty too much as it would make other parties curious as to why our bounty skyrocketed; this amount seemed within range.

They still hadn't resorted to more drastic measures—no assassins, no full-scale attacks. Clearly, the Elders had chosen to play the long game. Their pride might be wounded, but they were cautious. And it seemed like Garp's action in Marineford had turned things in our favor, at least for now.

I knew they were preparing, slowly building their strength in secret. But what they didn't know was that I was already aware of their most vital projects: the Pacifista, the Seraphim, and even the Mother Flame.

I figured we had about a decade, maybe two, before they were ready to strike. Until then, our focus had to be on preparation, and the highest priority was waiting for Dr. Vegapunk and Tom-san to join us so we could begin work on Pluton.

As I skimmed the posters, Smoker leaned over from the bow of our small caravel, his new trademark candy cane bouncing slightly between his lips. "With these new bounties, our family will definitely be seen as one of the Emperors of the New World, right, Ross?"

Smoker's tone was half-serious, half-bored, and I couldn't help but smile at his bluntness. In addition to Lucci, he had insisted on tagging along on our little journey back to Shimotsuki Island. It seemed life in Dressrosa wasn't exciting enough for him.

"It's just an empty title, Smoker. A nice ego boost for some, sure, but we're still a long way from dominating the entire world. The only thing that matters is that everyone here gets strong enough to hold up our family when the time comes."

I ruffled his hair playfully, and he swatted my hand away with an exaggerated scowl, making me laugh. Smoker was the liveliest of our bunch, always quick with a remark, always itching for a fight.

He was a stark contrast to Lucci, who stood a few feet away, quietly staring out at the sea with his usual unreadable expression. Sometimes I wondered if Lucci mirrored my demeanor a bit too much—was I always that serious? No, surely not. At least I smiled from time to time.

"Lucci," I said with a chuckle, "you should try smiling once in a while. People might think I'm mistreating you, the way you're always brooding like that."

Lucci remained silent, stroking his pet pigeon, Hattori, while keeping a sharp eye on the massive Sea King trailing our caravel from a distance. The creature seemed cautious, like it was waiting for the right moment to strike—but I had no doubt that if it made the wrong move, we'd be having Sea King stew for dinner.

Smoker, never one to let silence linger for too long, sidled up next to Lucci and elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, Lucci! Is your devil fruit strong? I bet it's nothing compared to my Smoke-Smoke Fruit!"

Lucci didn't respond at first. He just turned slowly toward Smoker, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Then, in the creepiest smile I've ever seen, he bared his teeth like a predator toying with its prey.

"You have no idea..." came a sudden, raspy voice. It wasn't Lucci who had spoken—it was the pigeon, Hattori.

Smoker jumped back so fast, he almost fell overboard. His candy cane dropped from his mouth as he flailed his arms in disbelief. "Wha—what the hell? Did that bird just talk?! Ross, did you see that? The bird! It spoke! Lucci's pigeon can talk!"

I couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight. Smoker, usually so composed, was now pointing at the pigeon like it was some sort of mythical beast. His eyes were wide, as if he'd just witnessed the greatest revelation of his life.

"You're telling me you've been with us this whole time, and you didn't know the bird talks?" I managed to get out between fits of laughter.

"I—no! I mean, how was I supposed to know? It's a pigeon!" Smoker was now glaring at the pigeon, hands on his hips like he was about to give it a stern talking-to. "Okay, bird. Do it again. Talk. I dare you."

Hattori just blinked at him, completely unimpressed, while Lucci petted him like nothing had happened. The bird remained silent, of course, which only frustrated Smoker more.

"C'mon! Don't be shy now!" Smoker was practically begging at this point, leaning in closer to Hattori, who simply tilted its head and gave him a disinterested coo.

Lucci finally broke his silence, his voice low and deadpan. "Hattori only speaks to people he respects."

Smoker reeled back like he'd been punched in the gut, glaring at the pigeon as if it had just insulted his honor. "Oh, that's how it is, huh? I'm not good enough for a talking pigeon now?"

"Seems like it," I said, still laughing. "Maybe try earning his respect by not treating him like a circus act."

Smoker groaned and stomped back to his spot at the bow, muttering to himself. "First the bird, now this... I swear, this crew gets weirder by the day."

I watched him sulk for a moment, then turned back to the sea, the smile lingering on my face. Moments like these, as ridiculous as they were, reminded me of the bonds that had formed between us all.

******

In the depths of the South Blue, on an uncharted island where the waves crashed violently against jagged rocks, Jack, the Vice captain of the Golden Lion Pirates, sat in silence, watching the flickering flames before him.

His hulking figure barely fit in the cave, his body still covered in burns, scars, and soot from the aftermath of ancient weapon devastation. His once fearsome face was almost unrecognizable, with deep burn marks exposing his skull underneath. But none of that mattered right now.

His eyes were fixed on the figure lying beside him—Golden Lion Shiki. The once mighty pirate, feared across the seas, now lay motionless, his bandaged body a testament to the devastation they had barely survived.

Shiki's skin, scorched by the attack, was a haunting reminder of the power they had faced. His trademark golden mane was now singed, reduced to brittle strands.

"Wake up, Captain," Jack muttered under his breath, his voice a mixture of pain and desperation. "You can't die now… not after everything."

Shiki had saved him, taking the brunt of the attack that should have killed them both. The ancient weapon's power had almost wiped them out entirely, leaving the mighty Golden Lion's armada in ruins.

And yet, despite his condition, Jack couldn't let go of hope. He reached over and gently placed a hand on the two swords that lay beside Shiki, hoping they would soon be wielded again.

"I know you can hear me," Jack whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "You promised you'd show me how it feels to look down on the world. You said we'd rule the skies, command the seas... Captain, you can't leave me now. Not like this."

His mind raced with memories of battles fought, victories won, and Shiki's laugh echoing in the wind as he dominated the oceans. Jack refused to believe it was over. He couldn't.

"Rest now, Captain," Jack said, his voice softer. "But don't take too long. This world still belongs to us."

Outside the cave, the storms howled, as if the very world itself was waiting for Shiki to rise once more and wreak havoc.

*******

In the eerie, reflective corridors of the Mirror World, Perospero paced back and forth, his long candy cane staff clutched tightly in his hand. His usually smug face was twisted in frustration and worry, his tongue occasionally flicking out as he muttered under his breath.

The silence in the mirror dimension was unnerving, only broken by the faint groans of Brûlée, who lay unconscious nearby, and the soft crackling of mirrors around them.

"How did it come to this...?" he whispered, pausing to glance at Katakuri, who was sitting silently in a corner. Perospero's eyes darted to the three bodies beside his brother—three of their siblings, now cold and lifeless. The weight of their losses bore heavily on him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt genuine fear.

Katakuri remained still, staring at the bodies, his face shadowed by grief. His usually stoic demeanor was cracked, and the once unwavering pillar of strength for the family seemed utterly defeated.

"We should have known better than to challenge that kind of power head-on," Perospero continued, voice trembling. "I thought... I thought we were invincible. Mama, she... she couldn't stop it. What makes us think we can?"

He glanced at the unconscious form of their mother, Big Mom herself, whose immense strength had failed against the onslaught of the ancient weapon. For now, she lay in a coma, her massive body sprawled in the corner of the Mirror World. And when she woke up... Perospero shuddered to think of her wrath.

Perospero approached Katakuri, trying to shake him from his daze. "Katakuri, we need you. I need you! Mama needs you! When she wakes up, if we don't have a plan... if we don't have a way out of this..."

Katakuri slowly lifted his head, his usually sharp gaze dull with sorrow. "I failed them, Perospero," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I failed our family."

"You didn't fail anyone!" Perospero snapped, his voice cracking with desperation.

"We're still alive. That means we still have a chance! Brûlée's powers may be our only way out of this mess, but if Mama wakes up and we're still stuck in here... she'll kill Brûlée without hesitation just to escape!"

Katakuri clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He knew his brother was right. They needed to find a way out of the Mirror World before it was too late. And more importantly, they needed to find a way to rebuild.

"We need to regroup," Perospero pressed, his eyes wide with panic. "If word gets out that Mama's been incapacitated, the other pirate crews, the Marines, they'll come for us. They'll tear everything we've built apart. The New World is already collapsing around us."

Katakuri stood up slowly, his resolve hardened. "Then we need to make sure no one knows. We'll bide our time, regroup, and when Mama wakes up... we'll be ready."

Perospero nodded, though doubt still gnawed at him. Time was not on their side, but it was all they had.

*******

Far from the chaos of the seas and the turmoil of the pirates, in a hidden stronghold of the Revolutionary Army, the air was thick with tension. Doctors hurried back and forth, their white coats stained with blood, sweat, and desperation. The figure they worked on was barely alive—if he could even be called alive anymore.

Zephyr, the former Marine Admiral, lay on the operating table, his body a wreck. His right arm and leg were missing, and the right side of his face had been horrifically burned, his skin blackened and peeling. Half of his chest had been blown apart, his organs visible beneath the scorched flesh. And yet, somehow, he still breathed.

Dragon stood by the side of the operating room, his hands clenched into fists, his face grim. He had witnessed horrors in his lifetime, but seeing Zephyr in this state shook even him to his core. This man had been a mentor to him once, a symbol of justice, strength, and unshakable resolve.

"How is he still alive?" Dragon asked, his voice low but filled with disbelief.

One of the lead doctors looked up briefly, sweat pouring down his face. "Honestly, we don't know. His body... it's beyond anything we've seen. Most people would have died long before reaching this state, but he's holding on."

Dragon narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "We have to save him. No matter the cost."

The doctor paused, hesitating. "There's... one way, but it's risky. We can use Germa's technology. Cybernetic enhancements. But the damage is extensive. Even if we manage to stabilize him, Zephyr won't be the man you once knew. He'll be... different. Half-man, half-machine."

Dragon looked down at Zephyr's ravaged body, his heart heavy with guilt. "Do whatever it takes. He's too valuable to lose. And not just because of his strength—because of who he is."

The doctor nodded, signaling to his team. They began preparing the equipment, moving with purpose now that the decision had been made. Cybernetic limbs, enhanced by Seastone to ensure Zephyr's resilience in the future, were brought in, gleaming coldly under the harsh lights of the operating room.

Dragon stepped back, his thoughts turning to the future. The world was changing, faster than any of them had anticipated. The ancient weapons were awakening, the balance of power was tipping, and the revolution was brewing. They needed Zephyr now more than ever, not just as a soldier, but as a symbol—a reminder that even the strongest could rise from the ashes.

As the doctors worked on Zephyr, Dragon turned away, walking down the corridor of the underground base, his mind already spinning with the weight of leadership. Outside the base, the wind howled through the trees, a harbinger of the storm that was fast approaching.

********

Dawn Island, East Blue

The warm breeze of Foosha Village swept gently across the shoreline as Garp stood with little Ace in his arms, gazing out at the horizon. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filled the air, but Garp's mind was far from peaceful. He had come back to his hometown, hoping to find some sense of clarity. Yet, as he stood there, holding his grandson, an unease gnawed at him.

The World Government hadn't retaliated against him or his village, even after his defiance against the Elders. That alone should have brought him some relief. But instead, it made him more uneasy. His instincts, honed over years as a Marine Hero, told him that something was brewing—something far worse than he could predict. And this time, the stakes were far too personal.

Next to him, Rouge had been quiet, perhaps sensing his inner turmoil. She held a somber expression, her eyes tired but warm as she glanced at her son.

"Garp-san, is everything alright?" Rouge's voice, though soft, pulled Garp momentarily out of his thoughts. As if sensing his mother's worry, little Ace let out a loud wail, his cries piercing the quiet moment between them.

"I'm alright, Agatha," Garp muttered, trying to shake the weight pressing on his heart.

"Just lost in my thoughts." He looked down at Ace, whose cries began to subside, the baby's innocent eyes blinking up at him, completely unaware of the heavy conversation around him.

"Is it alright if I take him for a walk by the shore?" Garp asked, his voice gruff yet gentle. Rouge gave a nod of approval and turned back toward the village, her footsteps soft against the dirt path. Garp, carrying Ace securely in his arms, walked toward the coastline.

The sea stretched endlessly before him, but Garp's mind was far from the peaceful scene. His thoughts spiraled as he looked down at the tiny life in his arms, the weight of everything he had witnessed crashing down upon him like the relentless waves at his feet.

"Maybe Ross was right all along," Garp whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean. His words were bitter as they left his lips, memories of his former protégé resurfacing. "He told me… one day, I'd stand by the side and watch, powerless, as the people dear to me were killed in the name of justice. He said I'd be unable to do anything."

The words stung, especially now. Garp clenched his jaw, his grip on Ace tightening ever so slightly—not enough to alarm the infant, but enough for Garp to feel the small heartbeat against his chest. His heart, heavy with guilt and uncertainty, thudded in response.

He looked down at Ace, the child still giggling as he played with Garp's beard, tugging at the coarse strands with tiny fists. A small, innocent laugh escaped Ace's lips, his wide eyes filled with wonder and curiosity.

He had no idea of the storm brewing around him, of the chaos his very existence could one day ignite. To him, Garp was just someone to play with, someone who made funny faces and had a beard that was fun to pull.

Garp couldn't help but smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "Tell me, Ace, what should I do when that day comes? If they come for you, what will I do then? Will I stand by again… like I did before?"

The infant let out another small giggle, oblivious to the torment in Garp's heart. Ace cooed and made a garbled sound that Garp could only interpret as joy. In that moment, Garp's chest ached even more. How could such an innocent child, a child of promise and life, be destined to face the weight of the world?

Garp's mind raced, haunted by memories of the past, of standing on the battlefield as men died for causes he no longer fully believed in. He had gone there ready to defy the World Government, and finally break away from the chains of duty and loyalty that had bound him for so many years.

But when the moment came, when he had the chance to strike back, he hadn't done it. He couldn't. The weight of his title, the future of the Marines, and the ideals he had spent his entire life upholding were too much. His heart had faltered.

But this was different. This wasn't just a battle between pirates and marines. This wasn't about justice. This was his family.

"Will I let you die, Ace?" Garp's voice cracked as he spoke to the infant. His mind flashed to Zephyr, a man he had once called a comrade, a friend. He had witnessed Zephyr's downfall, crushed under the weight of a system that failed to protect even its own. Garp had done nothing then, just as he had done nothing so many times before.

"Will I be able to save you when the time comes?" he murmured. "Or will I stand by and watch… again?"

Deep down, Garp knew that Ace's identity would be revealed to the world one day. It was only a matter of time before the truth of his lineage surfaced, before the son of Gol D. Roger became a target for the entire world, the world government, and the very institution Garp had served his entire life. But this time, Garp would not—could not—remain silent.

As Ace tugged at his beard again, letting out another bubbly laugh, Garp chuckled, though his heart still felt heavy. This child, so unaware of the turmoil around him, had no idea that he was already at the center of a storm.

Garp's thoughts darkened as he imagined the world closing in on Ace, the Marines branding him an enemy, a threat, all because of his bloodline.

But no matter what, Garp made a silent vow in that moment, his resolve hardening as he watched the sunset reflect in Ace's bright eyes.

"I'll protect you," Garp whispered, more to himself than to the child. "No matter what you become in the future… as long as you don't turn into an evil man… I'll protect you." His grip on Ace tightened, not in fear, but in fierce determination.

"Even if I have to stand against the World Government. Even if I have to fight the very people I've called comrades. No one will lay a hand on you."

The infant cooed once more, squirming in Garp's arms, his tiny fists reaching out toward the setting sun as if trying to grasp it. Garp smiled, a deep, sad smile. Ace had no idea what awaited him, no idea of the legacy that had already marked him for a life of struggle. But for now, in this moment, he was just a child.

And Garp would make sure, no matter what, that Ace would have a chance to live. A chance to choose his own path, free from the sins of the past.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the shore, but Garp's resolve burned brighter than ever. He would not fail again. Not this time.

As Ace let out a playful giggle, Garp chuckled softly, turning back toward the village, the weight on his shoulders still heavy but his heart filled with fierce, unwavering determination.

*****

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