His father had long since departed this world.
Before his child ever drew breath, he had already been executed by the Navy.
All that was left behind was the mother—pregnant, and alone.
Everything about the father had to be hidden, never to be spoken of.
To protect the life in her womb, she returned to the village of her birth, hiding from the world.
And there, quietly, unnoticed by anyone… a new life entered the world.
South Blue — Baterilla.
Ah, how cruel fate could be.
On this tiny island, she gave birth to a child carrying the blood of the Pirate King.
Dawn, Loguetown.
A ship slipped silently into port.
It should have been flying a black spade-flag, but at the insistence of Ace's first companion, Deuce, the flag had been stowed away.
Ace had set sail on January 1st. Three months had passed since.
He had drifted to a deserted island, met Deuce, eaten a Devil Fruit by accident, and gained the destructive power of flame.
Escaping that island, he drifted through the East Blue, clashing with pirates, stealing ships, gathering companions.
Now, at last, they had reached their final stop before the Grand Line—Loguetown.
With all the terrifying rumors of Reverse Mountain and the Grand Line beyond,
they had decided to resupply here, prepare themselves, and brace for the unknown ahead.
"Oi, Ace, don't you dare go looking for trouble," Deuce muttered like a worried old father.
"Loguetown's commander isn't some lazy branch officer—it's Smoker, a Headquarters Captain.
That rank, coming from HQ, means he's two or three levels above the same rank in the branches. Don't mess with him."
This time, Ace didn't argue. He just stood at the prow, looking toward Loguetown.
The place where Gol D. Roger had met his end.
The place where the burden of sin and destiny weighed most heavily.
Deuce saw something strange in Ace's eyes—struggle, pain, like fire devouring him from within.
Always laughing, always loud… but perhaps that smile hid a torment that even his closest couldn't see.
In three months, the Spade Pirates had destroyed four small crews, and Ace—impulsive as always—had even sunk two Navy ships.
His bounty was already on the books.
That was why they slipped in at dawn, blending among merchant vessels.
Their ship, stolen from another crew, was disguised under heavy cloth, covering the pirate marks.
"Mihar, you stay on board. Ace, Skull—let's hit the markets. We'll get enough supplies to last." Deuce gave the orders.
Mihar was once a teacher, dreaming of traveling the seas to reach children who could never afford schooling.
Skull was a self-proclaimed pirate fanatic and collector of all things skull-themed. His obsession often landed him in trouble—sneaking onto ships, discovered, enslaved as a swabbie until the next port.
Ace, however, saw potential in him—an informant, a man with wide experience. Skull was moved to tears, swearing to become the world's greatest intelligence officer.
By sunrise, Ace was already tearing through plates of food in a tavern, the table stacked high, the owner staring in shock.
Deuce trailed behind him nervously, terrified Ace would storm the Navy base for attention.
And Ace had done it before.
His logic? "It's the fastest way to make a name for myself. To be noticed. To surpass the Pirate King. To be the man at the very top!"
For him, fame couldn't come fast enough. And the name "Roger"… was a trigger for his anger.
Deuce, watching him, could only wonder more and more about Ace's true heart.
Suddenly, the streets outside erupted in noise—people running, shouting.
"What's going on?" someone in the tavern asked a passerby.
"A ship's docked at the port—from the Grand Line! They say it's loaded with rare treasures!"
"Really?"
"Really! Things from the West Blue, the North Blue, the South Blue—even spices from Paradise! The merchants and auction houses are swarming it!"
Loguetown was always bustling, but a ship from the Grand Line was a magnet for fortune-seekers.
Hearing the list of goods, even the tavern owner ripped off his apron.
"I've gotta see this!"
"Me too!"
Ace grinned, licking the last plate clean. "Ahh, full at last!" He grabbed Deuce by the collar. "Come on—we're going too!"
"You haven't paid—!" the tavern mistress shouted, but they were already gone.
At the port.
As a king's vessel, Jin's ship had a VIP berth.
Rows of Germa 66 clone soldiers held back the swelling crowds.
Law and Maya stood guard like stone sentinels—one with a blade, the other with a gun.
Maya, after being taken from her slum world by Jin, had been "educated by the fist of love."
Now she stood tall, fiery and fierce, a big-sister figure who commanded respect.
Maya raised a megaphone.
"This ship deals only with big clients. Entry requires a ten million Berries deposit. Once aboard, you must buy goods worth at least ten million. No refunds."
The crowd gasped.
"Ten million deposit?!"
"Buy or lose it? That's robbery!"
"Who'd agree to that?!"
But then they saw what was laid out along the rails—treasures glittering in the light.
"That vase… the patterns… is that Flower Country porcelain from the West Blue? I've only seen such things in royal collections—worth billions!"
"That scent… South Blue prime beef! And that—Paradisian incense?!"
The crowd's outrage turned to hunger. For the rich merchants, ten million was nothing if the profit was right. They rushed to register.
Goods were displayed with fixed prices. No haggling. Take it or leave it.
It was outrageous. It was arrogant.
It was irresistible.
The quality was too high. Higher than the Navy's own imports.
But such bold dealing drew envy.
It shook the local market, threatened entrenched interests, and soon the grumbling turned into plotting.
A hundred thugs gathered, pouring from Loguetown's alleys, led by a spiky-haired young man.
"Boss Bartolomeo, those guys from the Grand Line think they can ignore us!"
"Yeah! Everyone knows—you don't do business in Loguetown without paying tribute to the Bart Club!"
"They're ruining the market! Selling top goods at the same prices—our shops will bleed losses!"
"They need to hand their cargo to us. We'll sell it for them. That's the rule!"
The crowd roared their support.
Among them were even local shopkeepers—unable to pay the entry fee, they had run to Bartolomeo, Loguetown's black-market king, lord of 150 streets.