Creed wasn't bluffing—if Moria dared to say "no" again, he'd crush the man's heart.
If it were anyone else coveting his shadow, Creed would've already leveled the island with a single stroke instead of going to the trouble of offering terms.
"So what if you become Pirate King? He was still executed by the World Government. Pirate King isn't the summit of this world. Here, every 'king' lives under the World Government—and the Celestial Dragons sit the highest throne."
"And you—too afraid to even seek revenge on Kaido—talk about becoming Pirate King?"
Creed's voice stayed even. "Follow me. We'll hunt Kaido. We'll topple the World Government. We'll drag those damned Celestial Dragons down from the throne."
Creed knew Moria's past; every word hit a nerve.
At the name "Kaido," fire flickered in Moria's eyes. He glanced at Perona beside him, then sighed. "All right… Captain."
Hatred for Kaido—and affection for Perona, half a daughter to him—pushed him to choose life. And Creed's vow to overthrow the World Government and unseat the Celestial Dragons stirred something he hadn't felt in years.
"Welcome to the Creed Pirates," Redfield said warmly. Robin bowed, echoing the welcome.
"Captain Creed… please return Lord Moria's heart. I'll be the hostage—no, your servant, if that's what it takes," Perona said, teeth set.
"Perona! No!" Moria barked.
Creed's eyes narrowed. This diverged from the "original" drift of fate; Perona and Moria were close, yes—but she'd once left him behind in a crisis.
"Fine."
He didn't waste words—Moria's heart floated back into the cavity. Truth be told, among the Seven Warlords, Moria ranked near the bottom; Creed wouldn't have bothered if the man hadn't picked this fight.
As for what came next with Moria—Crocodile could deal with the arrangements.
Moria's injuries were grievous; he'd need time to recover. He and the survivors stayed behind on the half-wrecked Thriller Bark to heal, then link up with Crocodile.
Perona, as "hostage," would board Creed's ship.
Clang—clang—clang—clang!
Just as the two parties were about to split, the clash of blades rang from afar. Two figures tangled in a duel came racing in, sword auras carving buildings down as they passed.
Everyone finally got a clear look—and gaped. One was a zombie swordsman; the other, an afro-topped gentleman skeleton?
"Yohohoho! I still can't beat myself today. Farewell!" The skeleton—top hat bobbing—spotted Creed's group and mistook them for the zombie's reinforcements. He sprang away to flee, and the zombie swordsman sprinted after him, blade in hand.
"Tell Ryuma to stop—and return the shadow," Creed said to Moria before turning toward the ship.
The bond between Brook's crew and the whale Laboon was a precious thing. Creed didn't mind lending a hand so Brook could one day see Laboon again.
"Yes," Moria answered quickly—no thought of defying him left in his mind.
With Perona and her Kumashi aboard, the ship grew lively. To Robin's delight, she declared Perona her little sister on the spot, and the two grew close in no time.
Once they sailed clear of the perpetual fog, Redfield came to the helm. "Captain Creed, where to next?"
"Find a place to rest first," Creed said, giving no heading.
Truth was, with his current strength, wandering and "adventuring" across the New World had lost its meaning.
Next on the board was war against the Four Emperors—unify the New World.
At the top of his list were Big Mom and Kaido, both holding Road Poneglyphs.
But until his second basic attribute advanced to SSSS, he wouldn't move rashly. His combat power already rivaled a Yonko's, but better to be sure—wait until his composite strength stepped up to SSSS.
Only one base attribute remained.
Which one should he grind down next—Agility? Endurance? Or Spirit?
All three paths were promising.
Agility—further develop the Pika Pika no Mi (Glint-Glint Fruit) and his thunder-flash art to push speed to the limit.
Endurance—temper "iron skin" and Armament Haki for massive gains.
Spirit—intertwined with Haoshoku Haki (Conqueror's Haki). If he elevated Haoshoku to SSSS-, his already SSS+ Spirit might break through with it.
Mulling it over, Creed felt his own ceiling looming far, far above. Give him time—
"Maybe… the Yonko hunts can wait a few years."
Knock, knock.
Robin entered with a stack of newspapers.
"The Navy's moving headquarters into the New World?"
"Hm? Ain has become an admiral candidate—codename 'Blue Fox'? Not an animal of the Zodiac, interesting…"
"A new admiral from world conscription—Aramaki?!"
The headlines gave Creed pause. Most shocking of all: Marine HQ relocating to the New World.
The World Government had made up its mind—the Navy was stepping into the New World in full. Another colossal current would now churn these stormy seas—one that would unpredictably affect Creed's plan to cull the Emperors.
One more thing nagged him. Ain wielded the Goro Goro no Mi (Rumble-Rumble Fruit); her candidacy wasn't surprising. But what about Fujitora with the Zushi Zushi no Mi (Press-Press Fruit)?
"Is it because he joined recently… or because of me?"
He scratched his chin. As he read, a prickle ran down his spine. His brow tightened.
A mighty swordsman was approaching the Creed—so powerful his sword intent drank in the light, steeping the air in night. Merely feeling it twisted the senses.
Redfield felt it too. At the helm, he rose with his parasol-blade, fixing on the oncoming presence. Creed set the paper aside and stepped onto the deck.
Even in the New World, there weren't many swordsmen of this caliber.
When he finally saw the man, Creed fell momentarily silent.
"The World's Greatest Swordsman… Dracule Mihawk."
(End of Chapter)
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