One Piece: Hell Pirates

Above the Grand Line, Melvi-Secret Island soared through the sky, driven by the turbulent winds of the Kirin Lion's Wind-Wind Fruit. The fusion of two islands had become a floating fortress, a mobile empire in the sky.

Within its walls, the Hell Pirates went about their own business. Some trained intensely, others enjoyed leisure... and then there was Kaido—who insisted on being beaten half to death every day in the name of strength.

Scaredo, the hammerhead shark, had long ceased being enough for him. Now, the Four Major Fighters were his targets. It became a routine: either he was being beaten... or he was on his way to be.

The crew had even given him a nickname: "Flathead Brother."

Seeing Kaido grow stronger through repeated abuse, Fisher Tiger grew restless. He figured he'd try the same method. But unlike Kaido, Tiger didn't have absurd recovery speed or near-impenetrable defense. In short, getting beaten up was not his path to power.

Watching Kaido's Haki grow stronger by the day, Tiger couldn't help but feel disheartened. We're both trainee crew members... so why's he skyrocketing while I'm crawling?

Thankfully, Brook stepped in and gave him perspective.

"Fishmen aren't meant to dominate the land," the captain reminded him. "Your advantage is in the water. You've already mastered Fishman Jutsu and Fishman Karate. What you need now... is time."

Tiger nodded slowly, reassured—but not fully consoled.

Still, he remained one of the strongest among the next generation. Even if he wasn't at Kaido's level, his physical abilities surpassed many humans, and even veterans like Shakky, Scaredo, Hiruba, and Crocus. In truth, Tiger was elite.

His real mistake? Comparing himself to monsters instead of men.

Given time, training, and the guidance of the Hell Pirates, he might even surpass Jinbe—and become the strongest Fishman in history.

---

"Captain Brook! Urgent message from Fishman Island!"

Antonio burst into Brook's training chamber, panic etched across his face. "Princess Ariel's been attacked—repeatedly—and no one knows who the culprit is! She's injured, but alive. She's taken refuge in the Hard Shell Tower!"

Brook didn't immediately respond.

Antonio looked around—and froze.

Brook's entire training room had transformed into a ghostly underworld. Shadows stretched unnaturally. Cold mist clung to the walls. And standing silently around him... were dozens of ghost generals.

They turned in eerie unison toward Antonio. Their glowing blue eyes radiated a chilling intelligence, and their stares were anything but hollow.

Some of them even looked... curious. Hungry.

Are they analyzing how to cut me up? Antonio thought, trembling. Why do they look like I'm a piece of meat?!

The ghost generals David Kyons, Salmon, and Beaver in particular stared at him as if already imagining his post-mortem blueprint.

"U-um, Captain! Sir!" Antonio's knees nearly buckled. "C-could you put your... friends away? Please?"

Brook raised his hand.

A gate to the Underworld materialized, glowing with spectral light. The ghost generals silently filed through it, vanishing into the beyond. The room instantly brightened.

Brook sheathed his Seven Star Sword, now honed to a terrifying degree. The demon blade had absorbed so much evil energy, ghost aura, and underworld essence that it had begun developing sentience—its sword spirit already rivaled the awareness of the Going Merry's ship spirit.

Brook pondered. Should I feed it a Devil Fruit?

So far, objects could only absorb Zoan-type fruits—like Mr. 4's dog bazooka or Spandam's elephant sword. If Vegapunk could find a way to make objects absorb Paramecia or Logia, Brook would feed the blade something more versatile.

Until then, he'd look for a flying Mythical Zoan. After all, what's the point of a mystical sword that can't fly?

"Hmm... Ariel was attacked inside a fortified location? No one knows how? Multiple precise strikes?" Brook's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like the work of the Mark-Mark Fruit."

Antonio's jaw dropped. "Y-you figured it out that fast?"

He burst into a stream of flattery.

"Captain, your insight is deeper than the sea! Wiser than Sengoku! Smarter than Vegapunk! My admiration for you is like Gaya Island's eternal current—endless, powerful, unstoppable!"

He continued the praise, hoping for a reward. Perhaps—just perhaps—Brook would lend him that collector's edition photo album of world princesses. It was a one-of-a-kind item, personally crafted by President Moore Thomas of the Economic News Agency and gifted to Brook.

Brook, of course, appreciated flattery more than he let on.

He'd even started training Moore Thomas's adopted son, Morgans, at age three. The boy would one day inherit the title of King of Intelligence.

With the Umit Family controlling the underground transport system, and Moore monopolizing the intelligence world of the New World, the Hell Pirates now had their fingers in every major shadow market.

Only the Peace Dove News Agency remained in the Four Seas and Grand Line, and even they were starting to feel the pressure.

Brook grinned. "I've been looking for that fruit... and now it comes to me."

He rose.

"Call a crew meeting. We're heading for Fishman Island."

---

The team was quickly assembled.

The two Fishmen—Tiger and Scaredo—would accompany Brook.

Shakky, Shiki, Newgate, Redfield, and the Kirin Lion would remain behind to defend Melvi-Secret Island and escort it safely back to the New World.

Brook's personal ship—a golden Thunder Ship—was prepped for launch.

Their destination: Sabaody Archipelago, to descend again into the deep sea and reach Fishman Island.

News of their movement spread fast.

In Sabaody, the Celestial Dragons immediately retreated to Marijoa, refusing to set foot on the surface until the Hell Pirates left.

After all, ever since Brook had casually declared that Celestial Dragon blood enhanced Devil Fruit Tree regeneration, a disturbing number of pirates had started hunting them—not for power, but to barter for seeds from the Hell Pirates' territory.

-------------------------

In a tavern on the Sabaody Archipelago.

The wall behind the bar was covered with wanted posters of the Hell Pirates' crew.

"This is the tavern where Captain Brook and Shakky of the Hell Pirates first met. It was right here that the infamous Poison Cannon Sharin was taken down in one blow by Brook. Since then, he's been rising nonstop—an overlord of the New World!"

The bartender enthusiastically recounted the tale for what had to be the hundredth time. He never tired of telling it. Every time a rookie pirate or new rookie overlord dropped by, the story was brought up again with pride.

The tavern had turned the legend into its main attraction. After all, if even the Hell Pirates' captain drank their sake, then it had to be good enough for anyone! And since Shakky, the famed intelligence broker turned mythical Zoan fruit user, used to frequent the place, the bar had become a mini-pilgrimage site.

"Ahaha! Lord Brook is someone even the World Government fears! I swear, once I reach the New World, I'm joining them. Maybe he'll even gift me a Devil Fruit!"

"You're thinking too small. Have you not heard? In the New World, the Rookie Overlords from recent years have been causing chaos in Rocks' territory. They want to become the fourth overlord!"

"Serves Rocks right. Greedy guy hoarded so many islands, no wonder they're all rebelling now!"

"Yeah! The Rocks Pirates control twice as many islands as the Hell Pirates, yet their officers aren't even half as strong!"

"The New World needs a new fourth overlord. Time to carve out a name!"

"Whatever happened to that old overlord Saracha anyway? He vanished, and the Hell Pirates gobbled up his territory. Think they took him out in secret?"

"Who cares! Let's face it—joining the Hell Pirates means getting Devil Fruits. But if you're feeling lucky, head to Rocks' turf and roll the dice. Either way, it's a shot at glory."

"Think we could rob the Diger Pirates? Or the Hell Pirates?"

"Hah! You could try. The Diger Pirates are like a fortress, and the Hell Pirates? One Float-Float Fruit and they'll chase you across the sea. Rocks' turf is your only chance—they've got more islands than officers."

"Fine! After tonight, we set sail. We'll carve out our piece of the New World!"

Their boasts filled the bar, but the bartender merely shook his head in silence. Every year, hundreds of rookies stormed the New World, only to vanish without a trace. Few left a ripple.

Suddenly, a clamor erupted outside. People were rushing through the streets. The atmosphere turned electric.

"They're here! The golden ship of the Hell Pirates! Hurry, come see! They might be heading for Fishman Island!"

A small-time pirate shouted at the door, eyes gleaming. After all, the Hell Pirates—New World Overlords—were rarely seen in person.

But ever since the rise of the Hell Pirates and the power of the Float-Float Fruit, the rules had changed. They treated the world like their backyard, soaring between the Grand Line, Four Seas, and New World at will.

"Captain Brook is back in Sabaody? Let's go!"

The tavern owner didn't hesitate. Grabbing his stack of wanted posters, he dashed outside. If he could snag an autograph, he'd strike gold. Just last month, the old shipwright at Labrador Shipyard sold a signed Brook bounty poster for eight million berries!

And that was back when Brook was just a rising musician. Now? A signature could easily fetch tens of millions!

But as they reached the port, disappointment hit—the Hell Pirates never landed.

Their golden ship hovered above the coast, undergoing full-scale coating with the help of Thundercloud Zeus and Somersault Cloud Hera. Fisher Tiger and Fishman Tom were also being coated for the dive.

The Marines on the island, shocked by their presence, immediately sent a report to Marineford. Meanwhile, the rookie pirates in Sabaody could only lament the missed opportunity to meet their idols.

Still, some scrambled to coat their own ships, hoping to follow the overlords into Fishman Island.

---

Marine Headquarters – Marineford

"A portion of the Hell Pirates has entered Fishman Island again? And separated from their main island?"

"They raised their flag on Fishman Island. Looks like Brook's going to handle something serious down there."

"The nerve of those fishmen! They used to beg to join the Allied Nations, and now they've sided with pirates? Disgraceful!"

One of the World Government elders sneered, clearly disgusted. In their eyes, the fishmen were little more than animals—not deserving of equal rights.

"So... who's going to intercept Brook on Fishman Island?"

Fleet Admiral Kukulkan asked with a calm expression. The World Government had quickly dispatched agents to learn more, hoping to find an opportunity to eliminate Brook and Redfield once and for all.

But at that question, the other two admirals averted their eyes. As Devil Fruit users, none of them wanted to risk entering the deep sea.

They would much rather reach the New World through the Red Line and Mariejois than dive to Fishman Island.

It was well known: entering the New World through Fishman Island only had a 60–70% survival rate. That meant nearly one-third of those who tried were buried at the bottom of the sea!

So why would the Navy gamble their lives like that?

After all, even if you were an admiral, sea kings, whirlpools, or deep-sea storms could take you out without mercy.

Just ask the Golden Lion. His aerial fleet was devastated by a storm.

Or Transporter Oz, who froze to death during a freak cold front.

Even Coribou—brother of the Supernova Swamp-Swamp Fruit user Caribou—once worth 190 million berries, died en route to Fishman Island.

The lesson was simple: when there's a safer route, who'd choose the deathtrap?

It's like jumping from the second floor onto a haystack when there's a staircase right there.

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