The rest of the day was a whirlwind of laughter and camaraderie. Ace fit in with the Straw Hats as if he'd always been part of the crew, his warm, magnetic personality making him an instant favorite. He regaled them with hilariously embarrassing stories of a young, rubbery Luffy, much to the captain's loud protests and everyone else's delight. Mario watched it all with a fond, yet bittersweet smile. Ace's charisma was a tangible force, even greater than Luffy's in its own way—a leader's charm that made his eventual fate feel like a crime against the world itself.
Throughout the festivities, Mario noticed Ace's gaze occasionally drifting towards him, not with suspicion, but with a curious, analytical interest and surprise. The party eventually wound down, and after helping Sanji clean the galley, Mario stepped out onto the quiet deck, leaning against the railing to breathe in the cool, salt-tinged midnight air.
The soft click of the cabin door announced another's presence. Ace joined him, mirroring his posture as they looked out at the moonlit sea.
"So," Ace began, breaking the comfortable silence. "You've got big plans, as far as I can tell."
Mario smiled. "Well, yes. Our captain does everything with a bang. And Vivi is our friend, so we have to help her."
Ace fell quiet, his expression contemplative. The silence stretched, filled only by the waves against the hull.
"Who are you, Mario?" Ace finally asked, his voice low and serious.
"What do you mean?" Mario played it cool, raising an eyebrow in feigned confusion.
"You…" Ace gestured vaguely towards him. "You have this… air around you. It's faint, but I swear, for a moment back there, it felt like my old man, Whitebeard, was standing right beside me." He looked at Mario, his dark eyes searching for an answer.
"Oh?" Mario feigned surprise, though internally he was satisfied. He had deliberately released a faint, controlled trace of his Conqueror's Haki during the party, a subtle test to see if Ace's was strong enough to detect it.
"Yes. There's something… a presence," Ace murmured, scratching his head in confusion, unable to quite articulate the feeling.
Mario laughed faintly. "Nothing. I'm just a quartermaster. A simple quartermaster," he said, leaning more comfortably on the railing. He then deftly shifted the subject. "Tell me about your mission, Ace. Is it dangerous?"
"Dangerous? Nah," Ace scoffed, his confidence returning. "I just need to find him. Blackbeard, I mean. And when I find him, I'll drag him back to my old man and let him be the one to judge him."
"It can't be that simple," Mario pressed gently. "From the story you told us, Blackbeard killed his crewmate for the Yami Yami no Mi…"
"Well, yes. But the fruit doesn't matter, the murder—" Ace began, his voice hardening.
But Mario interrupted. "Oh, but I think the fruit has everything to do with it." He turned to face Ace more fully. "Blackbeard wanted that specific fruit so badly he was willing to kill a comrade for it. Why do you think that is?"
"Because he's a greedy bastard?" Ace offered, his tone dismissive.
Mario sighed, a sound heavy with foreknowledge. "No. Because the fruit gives powers beyond reason. It's extremely strong, Ace. Uniquely so."
"Strong? Pfff." Ace waved a hand, a flicker of flame dancing on his fingertips. "It doesn't matter. I'll burn him to a crisp with my Mera Mera no Mi and drag him back."
Mario shook his head, a gesture of profound frustration and concern. "Ace, you are just like your brother. Diving headfirst into something you don't understand. You could have real problems."
"That I don't understand? What's there to understand?" Ace retorted, his pride surfacing. "It's simple: find him, beat him up, get him back to our fleet. Seems simple enough."
Mario could only sigh again, the sound lost to the vast, indifferent ocean. He looked at the young man beside him—the fiercely loyal Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, who had sworn to hunt down the traitor Marshall D. Teach to restore his crew's honor. Whitebeard himself had told Ace not to go, but Ace's pride and sense of justice would not allow it. He was hunting a monster, sailing from island to island, hell-bent on delivering justice, all while completely unaware of the terrifying, anomalous power that Blackbeard now commanded. Ace saw it as a straightforward duel of strength and will. Mario knew it was a trap waiting to be sprung.
„Ace, I don't know you for very long, so I know you probably won't listen to me…" Mario began, his voice low and earnest, cutting through the night. „But I'm going to tell you this anyway: be careful. Think before you act. There are powers in this world that you don't understand. Frightening, ancient powers. If you continue to charge ahead like this, you could get into trouble you can't punch or burn your way out of."
He let out a heavy sigh, his frustration with the entire tragic trajectory boiling over. „I can't believe the old man Whitebeard didn't teach you anything and just let you go. That was stupid of him."
The insult to his father-figure was a line crossed.
„HEY! Don't you dare talk about my old man like that!" Ace snarled, his easygoing demeanor vanishing in an instant. He turned on Mario, his body coiling, a hand shooting out to grab the quartermaster's shirt.
But he never made contact.
Before his fingers could touch the fabric, Mario released his Haki. It wasn't the faint trace from before. This was the full, unrestrained force of his will, a wave of pure, suffocating pressure focused solely on Ace. It wasn't an attack on his body, but an assault on his spirit.
Ace's pupils constricted to pinpricks. His forward momentum ceased as if he'd hit an invisible wall. The anger on his face melted away, replaced by a primal, wide-eyed shock. For the first time since they'd met, Mario saw genuine, unvarnished fear in Portgas D. Ace's eyes.
„I am telling you this for your own good," Mario's voice was cold, devoid of its usual warmth, his own eyes seeming to glow with an unnatural, piercing light in the darkness as he held Ace's terrified gaze. „Do not underestimate Blackbeard, or you will suffer the consequences. This world is cruel. It is far, far crueler than you can possibly imagine."
As suddenly as it had come, the pressure vanished. Mario withdrew his Haki.
Ace stumbled back a step, gasping for air as if he'd been held underwater for too long. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead, his chest heaving. He stared at Mario, not with anger anymore, but with a dazed, shell-shocked confusion.
Without another word, Mario turned and walked away, leaving Ace alone at the railing to grapple with the chilling warning and the terrifying, unexplained power he had just witnessed.
Mario hadn't wanted to do it that way. It felt brutal, like attacking a brother to save him from a cliff he refused to see. But he needed to shatter Ace's complacency. He needed him to understand that the world of One Piece was not all sunshine and rainbows. Beneath the cartoonish aesthetics and goofy adventures lay a foundation of brutal realism—corruption, slavery, genocide, and death were ever-present realities that the narrative often glossed over but never truly avoided.
He knew Ace's character all too well. The pride, the loyalty, the fiery temper. Even if Mario had sat him down and laid out the entire, tragic future—the defeat at Banaro Island, the imprisonment at Impel Down, the war at Marineford, the fist through his chest—Ace would have just shrugged it off with a confident grin. He was a man who lived by his own code, and that code would get him killed.
So, Mario had chosen the only language he thought might get through: a demonstration of overwhelming, inexplicable power. A shock to the system. He couldn't stop Ace from hunting Blackbeard. The man's honor and loyalty wouldn't allow it. But maybe, just maybe, this warning would plant a seed of caution. Maybe Ace would be more careful, fight smarter, and inflict more damage on Blackbeard before the end.
But if it wasn't enough… if Ace was still captured, still sentenced to die at Marineford…
Mario's steps were firm and resolute as he walked back to the cabin. He knew exactly what he would do. Without hesitation. Without fail. He would tear down the very gates of justice itself to rewrite that ending.