Chapter 28: The New World, Arrived!

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Dawn broke over Marine Headquarters, Marineford.

"Brrr... brrr... brrr..." The den den mushi rang in Fleet Admiral Sengoku's office.

"Hello, this is Sengoku," the Fleet Admiral answered.

"Fleet Admiral Sengoku, this is Vice Admiral Rosser, stationed at Fishman Island, the gateway to the New World. I have an urgent matter to report," came a powerful, middle-aged man's voice from the other end.

"Vice Admiral Rosser, what is it?" Sengoku’s interest was piqued at hearing from Fishman Island—a critical checkpoint to the New World. Reports from there were rarely trivial; only the passage of notorious pirates warranted informing headquarters.

"Reporting, sir. Yesterday afternoon, the criminal 'Violet Emperor' Elros D. Camus appeared on Fishman Island, presumably en route to the New World. Should we attempt interception?" Rosser's clear report reached Sengoku’s ears.

At the mention of "Violet Emperor," Sengoku's expression darkened. As Rosser recited Camus’s full name, Sengoku’s face became even grimmer.

What is that bastard planning in the New World? The place is already in chaos—if he goes, won’t all hell break loose? Sengoku cursed silently.

"Vice Admiral Rosser, do not provoke that man. Your strength may be considerable, but that guy’s a monster. Just hold your position and keep your division secure. Once that bastard leaves, report back to me," Sengoku immediately quashed the vice admiral's reckless intention. Rosser was strong enough to warrant his posting, nearly on par with an admiral, but when compared to Camus, he was still far behind. Challenging him would be suicide.

"Yes, sir..." Vice Admiral Rosser’s tone betrayed his frustration—having to watch the world’s most infamous criminal, the man bold enough to kill a Celestial Dragon, slip through his fingers was galling. But orders were orders; Sengoku was the Fleet Admiral, after all.

Sengoku leaned back in his chair, hands propping his chin as he lapsed into contemplation. What is that bastard after in the New World? I’ve heard the pirates are organizing a King’s Tournament—could he be planning to participate? He doesn’t have a crew, though. Is he going alone?

...

Departure time was fast approaching. Camus had found an inn and enjoyed a good night’s rest the day before, unafraid of ambush. Anyone with ill intent who dared approach him would be instantly detected.

From afar, Camus saw the pirate ship in the bay readying for departure. Jolia, the captain, spotted him and waved, signaling they were about to set off. Camus smiled faintly and walked over.

Boarding the ship, Camus looked at the excited pirates around him. Even his usually impassive face showed a hint of anticipation.

The New World was truly the pirates’ domain. Before entering it, pirates were dogged by the navy and constantly wary of attack. But in the New World, they faced threats from powerful pirate crews instead. Only by proving their strength and establishing themselves could they become emperors in their own right—though they’d always have to guard against other formidable crews. This world of slaughter and freedom was the true allure of the New World.

Seeing their eager faces, Camus frowned slightly. Their captain’s bounty of 180 million berries was impressive before the New World, but there, pirates with bounties over a hundred million were a dime a dozen, and many were extremely powerful. He would have to temper their arrogance before they met their doom as someone else’s stepping stone. Camus knew only bits and pieces, but from Rayleigh’s words, he’d gleaned the New World was a realm where only the strong survived.

The Grizzly Pirates’ strength would only suffice to get them killed. After two days observing them, Camus judged their abilities as even less than the future Straw Hat Pirates under Luffy’s leadership. The captain was a Devil Fruit user, but of the Zoan-type Grizzly Bear fruit. Strong in beast form, yes, but in the New World, that meant little.

"Jolia, come here," Camus called to the excited captain, a trace of pity in his eyes.

"Mr. Camus, what’s the matter? We’re about to enter the New World! Isn’t it exciting?" Jolia asked, oblivious to the pity in Camus's gaze.

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Camus shook his head slightly. "Jolia, how strong do you think your crew is?"

Jolia was puzzled by the question but answered, "We’re pretty strong! Is something wrong?"

Camus sighed softly. "A crew like yours will be considered the lowest tier in the New World. How do you plan to survive? How will you protect your men?"

Jolia was stunned by Camus’s words, disbelief in his eyes. The lowest tier?

Seeing Jolia’s skepticism, Camus could only sigh. It seemed they’d have to see for themselves just how terrifying that world was.

"Don’t doubt me, Jolia. You haven’t seen it yet, but by the time you do, it may already be too late. Here’s my advice: when you arrive, find a safe place to hide, gather information about the New World, and train your strength. If you don’t listen, there’s nothing I can do," Camus said calmly.

Jolia’s excitement was doused like a bucket of cold water, leaving him uncomfortable and unconvinced.

Camus shook his head regretfully. "It seems you still don’t believe me. Let me give you an example. Before entering the New World, there are very few who can stand against a Marine Admiral. I’m one of them. But once you cross over, there will be many such people—at least a dozen, maybe twenty. If you don’t take your crew’s strength seriously, you’ll only be destroyed—eliminated."

Now Jolia was shaken awake. He’d felt strong, but that was before the New World—the pirates’ realm of power. There, true strength was everywhere. Thinking it through, he realized he was just average and couldn’t hope to compete with the established powers. If he led his crew in recklessly, it could mean their deaths.

The thought sent a cold sweat down his back. Now he dared not underestimate the New World.

"Mr. Camus, what should we do? Should we turn back now? That would be a shadow in our hearts forever," Jolia asked.

Camus considered. "Forget it, I’ll protect you for a while. When we meet my friend, you and your crew can stay on his ship for a time and learn what the New World is really like." He chuckled to himself: Shanks, just wait—I’ll be bringing you a batch of rookies for an introduction.

"Thank you, Mr. Camus," Jolia said, grateful.

Camus waved it off and said no more. They were about to enter the cavern—a supposedly direct route to the New World, but still dangerous. Like Reverse Mountain, there was a strong upward current to propel ships, but the tunnel was not a straight shot; there were several bends and turns, as anyone on Fishman Island would know.

Jolia braced himself and gave his crew a flurry of orders. If they failed here, they’d have no face left to head for the New World.

Soon, the cavern loomed before them. From a distance it looked small, but up close it was massive—five hundred meters wide, a thousand meters high, and bright inside, apparently thanks to mineral deposits.

Riding the current, the Grizzly launched straight in. The crew was excited—if they could get through, the worst was over. All they needed was to steer with the flow. But was it really that simple?

After two bends, a shadow surfaced ahead. The crew gasped in horror. It was a giant Sea King—the head alone blocked half the passage. Camus frowned; this place was far too dangerous for newcomers. Without strength, a ship could easily be lost here. The crew fired cannons in panic, but the Sea King seemed barely tickled.

Camus sighed, drawing the Purple Emperor. The purple blade, set with multicolored gems, radiated an air of noble beauty, as if defying anyone to underestimate it.

With a cold snort, Camus lightly leapt to the bow. The crew, seeing him step forward, breathed a collective sigh of relief and watched intently to see how he would handle the Sea King.

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Camus leveled the Purple Emperor and flicked it twice at lightning speed. The crew barely saw the motion—just two thin arcs of purple energy flying out.

In a flash, Camus was back in his spot. The Sea King shuddered as if pricked by a needle, then, before the stunned eyes of the crew, split cleanly into four pieces. The two slashes, after flying several dozen meters, had expanded to hundreds of meters wide, instantly dispatching the behemoth.

Even Captain Jolia stared at Camus in awe and terror. They had known he was strong, unimaginably so, but to see him obliterate a giant Sea King so effortlessly was beyond their comprehension.

Camus glanced at them and said lightly, "There are many in the New World who can do this. You’d best get stronger—or you’ll die."

The crew was stunned, then their eyes blazed with fervor—a yearning to become stronger, and a resolve to do so.

Camus smiled with satisfaction.

With that episode behind them, a few more bends and they could already see the exit. Beyond lay the New World—realm of pirates, heart of freedom and carnage.

With a roar, the ship burst from the water, soared into the sky for several seconds, and crashed down into the sea.

Camus stood, gazing at the vast, tranquil ocean, finding it more beautiful than ever.

He and the crew looked down and shared a moment of surprise.

It was much like Reverse Mountain, except here they emerged from inside the Red Line, while Reverse Mountain was an ascent. Not far away stood a lighthouse and, it seemed, a small town.

Camus smiled and pointed Jolia toward the distant town. The crew cheered and set course for their first stop in the New World...

...

Exhausted from a day’s farm work, aching back and sore hands full of cuts that stung when touched by water.

Now, asking for your votes! Ha! I still sat down after dinner and wrote this chapter—a decent word count, too. Please recommend, click, and add to your collections. Thank you all.

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