Half a month later. East Blue, Port Roana.
Known as the "City of Free Trade," Port Roana was a sprawling commercial hub where the lines between merchant and pirate blurred. At dusk, a streamlined, black-hulled speedboat sliced through the harbor, docking at a top-tier private berth. The Black Eclipse, with its teardrop shape and understated luxury, immediately drew the predatory eyes of every informant on the docks.
On the deck, Buggy was sprawled out like a starfish, gasping for air.
"I can't... my fingers... they're cramping..." Buggy held up his hands, clad in specialized gloves. He looked like he'd been run over by a Sea King.
For the past two weeks, Ace and Sabo hadn't beaten him out of boredom. Instead, they had subjected him to "Targeted Precision Training"—a hellish regime far more exhausting than a simple brawl.
Sabo crouched beside him, adjusting a set of intricate finger and wrist guards.
"Stop whining, Buggy." Sabo tossed the finished guard onto Buggy's stomach. "Your Bara Bara no Mi makes you immune to blades, but your offense is one-dimensional. These are Sea Prism Stone Finger Guards. We had them forged from the scraps we found in Bluejam's treasure chest."
This was the development path Ace had carved for Buggy.
The interior of the guards was lined with thick, insulating leather and iron. As long as the Sea Prism Stone didn't touch Buggy's skin, he wouldn't lose his strength. But the outer striking surface was embedded with high-purity Kairoseki.
Combined with Buggy's ability to detach his hands and fly them from blind spots, this gear was a nightmare for any Devil Fruit user. Imagine a flying hand, invisible in the chaos of battle, suddenly grabbing an opponent—instantly stripping them of their powers.
"Easy for you to say!" Buggy wailed, gingerly tucking the guards away. "If that leather wears thin and touches my skin, I'm a anchor! I'll drown in a puddle!"
"Which is why you've been practicing micro-movements and precision splitting every single day," Ace said, his steady footsteps echoing as he emerged from the cabin.
Ace was dressed in a form-fitting black shirt today, his dark red sleeveless trench coat draped over his broad shoulders.
"Sabo and I are heading out," Ace said, looking at the flickering lights of Port Roana. "We're liquidating the jewelry from the Terminal and Orange Town. While we're at the black market, we'll stock up for the Grand Line. You stay here. Watch the ship."
"Leave it to me! Not even a fly will get past the Great Buggy-sama!"
The moment training was canceled, Buggy bounced up like a spring, his exhaustion replaced by a lazy grin. Ace nodded, and he and Sabo vanished into the bustling crowd of the port.
Buggy watched them go and let out a massive sigh of relief. "Finally! 'Watch the ship,' my big red nose. I haven't slept in a week."
Within minutes, the sound of thunderous snoring filled the deck as Buggy sprawled onto a leather sofa in the lounge.
Late night. Port Roana.
The harbor was a sea of lanterns, but the Black Eclipse sat in a pocket of deep shadow. Suddenly, a slender, enchanting figure appeared atop a dockside lamppost.
She had striking purple hair and wore a tight black tactical suit that outlined her lithe curves. Her eyes, as sharp and cunning as a fox's, were locked on the ship. A greedy smile touched her rosy lips.
The Phantom Thief, Carina.
A "wildcat" famous in the East Blue underworld for "robbing the robbers." She specialized in stripping wealthy pirates and corrupt nobles of their loot.
"Steel-plated hull... Iron Pine deck... This is either a nouveau riche pirate or a brainless noble's toy," Carina whispered. "The vault must be overflowing."
She leaped from the lamppost, landing on the deck as silently as a shadow. She crept toward the lounge and saw Buggy sprawled on the sofa, snoring like a foghorn.
"Pathetic defenses," she chuckled. She pulled a spray can from her belt and released a colorless, odorless hypnotic gas under Buggy's nose. The clown smacked his lips and sank into an even deeper coma.
"Easy pickings."
Carina stepped over the sleeping clown and pushed into the living room. Even as a professional, she gasped at the sheer opulence—the silk carpets, the wall-to-wall wine cellar. Her intuition led her straight to a heavy, refined steel vault hidden behind a secret panel in the cellar.
"A six-digit mechanical lock? Child's play."
She pressed a stethoscope to the steel and began to turn the dial with slender, steady fingers.
Click... Click...
In less than three minutes, the heavy door—built to withstand cannon fire—swung open with a crisp thud.
The resulting golden glow nearly blinded her. Piles of gold bars, sapphires, rubies, and stacks of Berries were mounded inside like a small mountain.
"This is at least sixty million Berries!" Carina's heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't waste another second. She unzipped her specialized backpack and began stuffing it with gold bars, her hands moving in a blur.
"It's all mine! All of it!"
She struggled to zip the bloated bag, hoisted it onto her back, and turned to make her escape.
Clap.
Clap.
Two slow, rhythmic claps echoed from the darkest corner of the room.
The smile on Carina's face died. The blood drained from her skin, and a primal chill shot up her spine to her brain. She turned her head, her neck creaking like rusty hinges.
Sitting on a single-seater leather sofa was a tall, imposing figure.
A point of crimson fire lit up in the darkness as Ace exhaled a puff of smoke. In the dim light, he looked less like a man and more like a demon god waiting for a sacrifice. His dark eyes were locked on her—not with anger, but with the cold calculation of a hunter.
"Your lock-picking is superb," Ace said, his voice low and vibrating through the floorboards. "And your infiltration was... adequate."
Ace leaned forward, and his oppressive presence filled the room like a physical weight, pinning Carina where she stood.
"Now. Introduce yourself. If you're of no value to me, I think I'll see how long you can tread water in the harbor."