One Piece: A Warlord's Path

Tap, tap, tap… tap, tap, tap…

Perched atop the dais at the back of the grand hall, Oliver turned his head at the sound of footsteps echoing behind him.

"Captain, you're so slow! I was about to die of boredom."

"Heh~ Thanks for holding the fort. I'll take it from here." Aeridar stepped up with a soft chuckle, his voice relaxed yet unmistakably commanding.

As he strode to the center of the hall, Aeridar faced the crowd—hundreds of pirates crammed into the space. With a sun-bright grin, he spread his arms wide and bellowed with hearty laughter, "Hahaha~ Welcome, everyone! It's truly an honor to have you all here!"

"He's here! Looks just like he did on the old wanted poster!"

"Aeridar-sama, you're too gracious!"

"Captain Aeridar! Please let me join your crew!"

"Let me fight for you, Boss Aeridar!"

The moment Aeridar appeared, the hall erupted into chaotic cheers. The pirates shouted, whistled, and waved like frenzied fans at a celebrity meet-and-greet, their battle-hardened faces lit with admiration and awe.

"Huh… didn't expect this guy to be so damn popular," murmured Bright Ward, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against a far wall in the shadows.

Aeridar, ever the tactician, began with the expected formalities—flattery veiled as humility, yet not devoid of truth. "Anyone who managed to slip through Marine waters and make it here must be strong… and lucky. You all have my respect."

"Oh no, you flatter us too much!"

"Haha, you're too kind!"

"We couldn't possibly compare!"

"You're the real legend here, Captain!"

The pirates, puffed up with pride yet bashful like children, exchanged pleasantries back, some scratching their heads, others bowing with sheepish grins.

Aeridar waved them off with a chuckle. "And the fact that you're all here, invitation in hand, shows me you're serious about joining the Chris Pirates. I'm truly delighted to welcome new blood—"

"I'm not here to join you. I'm here to end you."

The voice sliced through the air like a thrown dagger.

Instantly, the hall fell dead silent. All eyes turned toward the source of the interruption.

A group of about a dozen men stepped forward, parting the crowd like a dark tide.

At the front was a towering young man, nearly two meters tall, clad in a jet-black suit and draped in a white fur-lined coat.

His wild purple hair and disdainful glare radiated contempt. He looked like he owned the room, like no one here was worth his time.

"Who the hell is that? Does he have a death wish?"

"Wait, he's that guy!"

"I recognize him! That's Angus Abel!"

"Didn't the Marines have a bounty out on him? He got away?"

The moment he stepped forward, murmurs surged through the hall. Recognition turned to alarm.

"Captain," said Arlan, flipping through a stack of bounty posters. He found the one he needed and handed it to Aeridar, whispering, "That guy's Angus Abel, born in the South Blue. They call him the Steel Demon. His latest bounty is 158 million Berries. When he first entered the Grand Line, he destroyed a massive Marine prison ship, freed over 300 wanted criminals, and wiped out an entire unit, including a Rear Admiral, two Captains, and 800 Marines. He's been hunted by a Vice Admiral ever since… but three days ago, he sank five Marine warships and finally slipped away."

Aeridar glanced down at the bounty poster, then back up at the smirking figure challenging him from the floor. His lips curled into a faint, amused grin.

A man like this—causing chaos the moment he arrived on the Grand Line, defying the Marines, and making it out alive? Now this... was going to be interesting.

"I've been dying for a shot at one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea... just one," Angus Abel shouted, eyes burning with reckless ambition. "But the damn Navy's been riding my ass nonstop! And now? The heavens must be smiling on me, one of you just walks right into my lap! HAHAHA! Come down and meet your death!"

Ever since arriving in the Grand Line, Abel had been hellbent on replacing one of the Warlords.

Unfortunately, he hadn't encountered a single one. All he got was the Navy breathing down his neck.

But now, not only had he finally shaken them off, he'd stumbled across a newly instated Warlord. It was like the universe had handed him a gift.

"What an idiot," scoffed Bright Ward as he folded another paper charm in the corner. "Thinks taking down a Warlord is that easy?"

He'd run into two of them himself—Donquixote Doflamingo in the first half of the Grand Line, and nearly got killed for it. Then again at Fish-Man Island, where Jinbe the Knight of the Sea crushed a Supernova with a 200-million bounty like it was nothing.

Those encounters had taught him one thing: the title of Warlord wasn't just for show. Anyone who earned recognition from the World Government was no joke. Even now, he wouldn't dare challenge a Warlord head-on.

"Moron," muttered a tall, dark-skinned man seated in a booth tucked into the corner. "You think a Warlord ranks below a Vice Admiral?"

"That bastard just insulted Boss Aeridar!"

"He's got a death wish, huh? Idiot doesn't know when he's dead."

"Think you can run your mouth and walk away? I'll gut you myself, you dumb fuck!"

"You dare challenge Captain Aeridar? Get on your knees and beg for mercy, maybe we'll leave you with your dog life!"

Abel's arrogant rant had every pirate in the tavern seething. If Aeridar gave the word, they'd tear him limb from limb without hesitation.

"To think some Navy-run weakling could bark that loud," Aeridar said coldly, looking down at him from the upper level, eyes sharp with disdain. "You're pathetic."

"You son of a bitch. I was gonna let you crawl away with your life," Abel snarled, stepping forward. "But now? I'm gonna beat you to death and dump your corpse at the bottom of the sea."

With a sudden burst of force—BOOM!—he launched himself straight up to the two-meter-high platform.

"Test his strength," Aeridar said mildly, turning to Oliver beside him. "If he's not worth the trouble, end it. If he is, leave him alive."

After all, if the captain had to handle everything himself, what use were the crew?

And Oliver wasn't just any crewman, he was the Head of Combat on Aeridar's ship. This sort of trash was exactly his weight class.

Clack.

"You got it." Oliver nodded knowingly, tossing aside the bottle in his hand. He drew Nagamitsu from its sheath and stepped forward.

"You're mocking me?!" Abel shouted, veins bulging as he saw that Aeridar wasn't even going to fight him himself.

And this guy, this swordsman, he wasn't even using both his blades. A dual-wielder who'd only drawn one sword?! Abel's rage flared.

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