Baratie Main Hall. The air smelled of ozone and expensive silk turned to ash.
Inside the floating restaurant, the silence was absolute. Fierce pirates and wealthy merchants alike huddled in the shadows, their faces pale, watching the two young men at the center table as if they were ancient gods of ruin.
Sabo sat back down, glancing at his leather-clad palm. A gentle, yet terrifyingly sharp smile touched his lips.
"The destructive power of the Dragon's Talon, combined with the explosive force of the Mera Mera no Mi... it's even more effective than I imagined." Sabo looked at Ace. "Captain, your original concept was flawless."
Ace swallowed a piece of perfectly seared steak, a flicker of satisfaction in his dark eyes.
Only he knew the truth. Four years ago, on the slopes of Mt. Colubo, when Sabo was frustrated by the limits of his combat style, Ace had shared a vision. He described a technique where one's fingers became the claws of a dragon, capable of crushing skulls and steel alike.
Ace had meant it as a tribute to the Sabo he remembered from a past life's manga—a "cool" move he wanted to see in reality. But Sabo was a genius of the physical path. He had taken that "cool idea," combined it with two years of hellish Haki training, and manifested a "New World" level killing technique in the weakest of the four seas.
"It works because your foundation is iron, Sabo," Ace said, setting down his glass. "Without the finger strength to shatter stone, the technique is just a hollow pose."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rhythmic thud of a wooden peg-leg on the floorboards drew their attention. From the stairs emerged a tall old man with an absurdly long, braided golden mustache.
"Red Leg" Zeff.
Zeff's sharp eyes swept over the scorched remains of the Royal Guard. He didn't look at the dead; he looked at the monsters responsible.
"A master-class Logia... and a grip that can crush refined steel." Zeff took a deep drag of his cigar, his voice gravelly with wariness. "Since when did the East Blue—the 'Weakest Sea'—start breeding monsters capable of standing in the New World?"
As a veteran who had survived the Grand Line, Zeff knew exactly what he was looking at. But more terrifying than the blond man's fire was the black-haired man sitting at the head of the table. Ace hadn't moved a finger, yet the sheer, heavy pressure of his presence made Zeff's old heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Old man, skip the interrogation," Ace said, standing up.
As Ace rose, the atmosphere in the room changed. It felt as if a mountain had suddenly dropped onto the restaurant. Sanji, standing nearby, felt his knees buckle under the sheer weight of Ace's physical presence. His legs felt like they were cast in lead.
"The food was excellent," Ace said, his voice calm yet echoing in the silence. "The nutritional management is the best I've seen in this sea. But I'm here for one thing."
"The Baratie's Culinary Codex."
The hall gasped.
"I want the top-secret recipes," Ace continued. "Specifically, the methods for processing Giant Sea Kings and the cooking techniques for maximizing calorie retention. Hand them over."
"You've got to be joking!" a chef named Patty roared, stepping forward. "A recipe is a chef's soul! Who do you think—"
KICK.
Zeff sent Patty flying with a swift kick to the gut. The old man looked at Ace with grim realization. He knew that in the face of absolute power, "dignity" was just a word for the dead. If Ace wanted to, he could sink the Baratie in ten seconds.
"I can give you the Codex," Zeff said through a cloud of smoke. "But it is our lifeblood. Surely a man of your stature wouldn't just... steal it?"
"The Eclipse never owes favors," Ace said, snapping his fingers.
Carina stood up with a fox-like smile. She clicked open a black briefcase, revealing rows of gold bars and thick stacks of high-denomination Berries.
"Five million Berries in cash. Five bars of high-purity gold," Carina said. "This is a fair market price for your knowledge. And don't worry—we aren't opening a rival restaurant in the East Blue. Do we have a deal, Boss?"
Zeff looked at the gold, then at Ace. This was the "King's Way"—combining overwhelming force with a sense of order. Ace wasn't a common thug; he was an underworld sovereign in the making.
"Sanji," Zeff barked. "Go to my safe. Bring down the black leather notebook."
"But Old Man!" Sanji gritted his teeth.
"GO!"
Minutes later, Carina tucked the black cookbook—the culmination of Zeff's life's work—into her bag.
"Pleasure doing business, Boss Zeff," she chirped.
Ace turned, his hands in his pockets, and walked toward the exit with steady, heavy strides. He didn't look back at the chefs or the pirates. They were already behind him.
"WAIT!"
Sanji stood by the broken glass doors, his fists clenched. "WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!"
Ace paused. He didn't turn around. The sea breeze caught his dark red trench coat, making it billow like a cape of blood. His silhouette, framed by the shattered doorway, looked like a demon god carved from shadow.
"A pack of madmen," Ace's voice was low, yet it carried across the water. "We're heading for Reverse Mountain... to dismantle the rules of this world."
The arrogance in his tone was so absolute it made Sanji's soul tremble.
Ace stepped onto the Black Eclipse.
"Weigh anchor!" Ace commanded. "Hoist the sails!"
The massive, pitch-black sails unfurled with a thunderous crack. Under the terrified gaze of everyone in the Baratie, the black sword of a ship tore through the waves, turning its bow toward the horizon.
Sanji stood at the edge of the restaurant, his cigarette trembling in his hand. For the first time in his life, he understood the true scale of the sea.
He hadn't met a pirate. He had met a King.