Water 7 sat in the latter half of Paradise, close to Enies Lobby, and was one of the most prosperous metropolises on the Grand Line.
It would still take a long time for the Nightfall Pirates to reach it. Teach had already mapped out the next stage of their journey, with Water 7 set as a key destination.
What he could not be certain of was the Marines' attitude.
Teach doubted they would simply let the Nightfall Pirates pass unchallenged and allow them to clash freely with other great pirates once they entered the New World. Whether the Marines would intervene directly or act from the shadows was still unclear.
For now, that uncertainty could only be resolved through intelligence.
Stephanie remained the most reliable source of internal Marine information. Beyond her, Teach also relied on Shakky and Donquixote Doflamingo. Although Doflamingo's influence was limited to North Blue, his status allowed him to access certain sensitive channels.
Still, the backbone of their intelligence network was Stephanie.
The Nightfall Pirates' next target lay near the Calm Belt.
Hunting Island.
It was the island where Gar had once lived before being captured and enslaved. Most of his combat skills had been learned there.
Through Gar's recollections, Teach finally pinpointed the island's location. More importantly, Gar had spoken of someone there, a monster he claimed was on the same level as Teach himself.
That alone made Teach curious.
In Teach's eyes, Gar's potential as a Mink already surpassed that of Inuarashi and Nekomamushi. Now that he possessed the Rage-Rage Fruit, that potential had only grown more frightening.
Although Gar rarely used the fruit recklessly, he could control rage itself, drawing power from it. Through anger, he could even trigger his Sulong form.
In terms of raw combat ability, Gar was already comparable to a Marine Vice Admiral. If he went all out, he could even contend with a quasi-Admiral level opponent.
With his growth rate, Gar was destined to become one of the Nightfall Pirates' future pillars. Teach valued him highly.
The one Gar spoke of, Slada, was born with a monstrous physique.
Unlike Gar's hunting-style combat, Slada fought head-on, crushing enemies with overwhelming strength and durability. In those aspects, Gar admitted he could not compare. It was pure natural talent.
Hunting Island was not isolated. That meant its inhabitants likely already knew that Gar had joined the Nightfall Pirates.
Teach decided to go in person.
He had a strong premonition that the Ancient Zoan Devil Fruit he had held onto for years, the Emperor Crocodile Fruit, was finally about to find its rightful owner.
On top of that, Baccarat's ability had detected an unusual concentration of good fortune surrounding Hunting Island.
Everything pointed in the same direction.
In the New World, within Whitebeard Pirates territory, a man with wings on his back flew swiftly through the sky toward the massive silhouette of the Moby Dick.
Mostima had already located the flagship in advance.
This transaction did not need to squeeze out maximum profit. Pushing the price too far would inevitably touch the Whitebeard Pirates' bottom line, leading to negotiations, disputes, and wasted time.
Time was something Mostima could not afford to lose.
For this deal, the Whitebeard Pirates had no reason to refuse.
That confidence came from strength.
The Feather-Feather Fruit had significantly increased Mostima's combat power. Three years had passed since the Sabaody Archipelago incident, and his growth during that time was undeniable.
Marine encirclements. Pirate assaults.
All of them had been repelled by his own hands.
Even so, Mostima was well aware that he was still some distance away from true monsters. The Feather-Feather Fruit only allowed him to approach that threshold. Reaching it would require years more effort.
Swordsmanship refinement. Devil Fruit mastery. Haki improvement.
And most difficult of all, physical enhancement.
His physique was his weakness. Not hopeless, but clearly inferior when compared to monsters like Whitebeard or Ares. Even if he could never reach their level, he could not afford to remain fragile.
In the past, recognizing this gap without seeing a path forward had left him lost.
Teach changed that.
Teach showed him a road. Gave him direction. Taught him how to chase that unreachable height.
Now, Mostima even had a concrete goal.
"Heavenly King" Rhinos.
Their fighting styles were strikingly similar.
This time, however, his destination was Whitebeard himself.
Despite years of indirect dealings, this was only his second true meeting with the Whitebeard Pirates. A faint nervousness lingered in his heart.
Whitebeard's presence was unforgettable.
That god-like aura, overwhelming and absolute, was a level Mostima knew he would never reach.
Only Teach, Redyat, and Ares stood a chance of matching it.
Ares was a monster he had personally witnessed, his strength and physique growing without limit.
Redyat, though unseen, had already proven his power. As vice-captain of the Nightfall Pirates, he could not be weaker than Ares.
For a pirate crew, allowing an outsider to enter their territory was a provocation.
To ensure the transaction went smoothly, Mostima had even prepared a gift.
In his hand was a tightly sealed jar of wine.
Monkey Wine.
The last jar left behind by Teach on White Sand Island.
He had been reluctant to drink it over the years. Now, only this remained.
It was worth it.
Once Teach returned, Monkey Wine would never be scarce again.
Not long had passed since the global video broadcast ended.
Across the seas, people waited for new newspapers and new footage, replaying fragments they had missed or watching other videos entirely.
The emergence of video broadcasts had dramatically changed entertainment, especially for pirates.
On the Moby Dick, several crew members suddenly raised their heads, their instincts flaring as they stared toward the distant sky.
"Someone's coming," one pirate said grimly. "Strong. Flying straight at us."
"Marco?" someone asked, confused.
"No. The war just ended. There's no way Marco could get here from Paradise that fast."
"Could it be Shiki the Golden Lion?" another pirate blurted out.
The atmosphere instantly tightened.
Shiki was a monster on the same level as their captain.
"Calm down," a veteran pirate said. "It's not Shiki. I've felt his aura before. This one's strong, but… familiar."
"Gurararara," Whitebeard laughed, his booming voice washing over the deck. "Don't panic over an enemy who hasn't even shown his face yet. We are the Whitebeard Pirates."
The crew immediately steadied themselves.
"We're the Whitebeard Pirates," Jozu said, arms crossed. "So what if Shiki shows up? Pops is here."
"Then let's see who it is," someone muttered. "Who dares to come alone."
The figure soon came into view.
Several crew members recognized him at once.
"It's truly grand, having so many people waiting for me," Mostima said lightly as he descended from the sky, landing on the deck under countless watchful eyes.
Weapons were quietly drawn.
"Uninvited, so please allow me to apologize first," Mostima said, bowing with noble courtesy.
No one relaxed.
They all knew he was dangerous, both in strength and in mind.
"Although this is only my second visit, there are some unfamiliar faces," Mostima continued calmly. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Mostima, captain of the White Bird Pirates."
"And on behalf of Marshall D. Teach, I send his regards to the Whitebeard Pirates."
"Enough," a hot-headed pirate snapped. "Why are you here? Looking for a fight?"
"Don't think Teach backing you means we're afraid of you."
"I didn't come to fight," Mostima replied, unfazed. "And I brought a gift."
He placed a hand on the jar and gently opened it.
A rich, intoxicating aroma spread instantly.
Several pirates froze.
Eyes widened.
Even the division commanders stiffened.
"That smell…" Vista murmured, staring at the jar. "It can't be…"
"Monkey Wine," Mostima said, smiling. "It seems you've tasted it before."
Memories from five years ago surfaced all at once.
"This is a fine gift," Whitebeard said with a grin. "Since you're not here to fight, come closer. Tell me what you want."
Even the scent alone made him impatient.
Mostima resealed the jar and walked forward, stopping before Whitebeard.
Sitting there, Whitebeard felt like an endless abyss. An ocean with no visible bottom.
Still, Mostima did not falter.
With a casual motion, he tossed the jar.
Whitebeard caught it easily and set it aside.
"Speak," Whitebeard said. "What do you want?"
"I'm here to make a trade," Mostima replied.
"What kind of trade?"
"The White Bird Pirates control fourteen islands," Mostima said. "You know how profitable they are. We no longer need them. We intend to sell them to the Whitebeard Pirates."
Shock rippled through the deck.
Those islands had been developed for years, generating billions in profit annually.
Taking them over would be effortless. Mostima had already done all the hard work.
It was like receiving a fully grown apple tree and only needing to harvest the fruit.
"We agree," Whitebeard said after a brief pause. "How much?"
"Five hundred million Berries per island, plus one Devil Fruit each," Mostima said. "Seven billion Berries and fourteen Devil Fruits in total."
The price was lower than expected.
Far lower.
They could recover the cost in less than three years.
"We can complete the transaction immediately," Mostima added. "Once it's done, the territories are yours. We're moving elsewhere."
"Can Devil Fruits replace Berries?" Whitebeard asked.
"Of course," Mostima replied. "Three hundred million per fruit."
"Vista," Whitebeard said decisively. "Take him to collect thirty Devil Fruits and two point four billion Berries."
"Yes, Pops," Vista replied, gesturing. "Follow me."
The Whitebeard Pirates had no shortage of Devil Fruits. Many were mediocre abilities no one wanted.
To them, this was clearing clutter.
To the Nightfall Pirates, it was treasure.
They lacked the insight to judge potential.
Mostima smiled inwardly.
The Feather-Feather Fruit had once been seen as useless too.
Teach saw its value.
In the end, neither Teach nor the Nightfall Pirates lacked Berries.
Soon enough, Mostima returned with the goods.
"Well then," he said with a smile, wings unfolding. "Until next time."
He took to the sky and disappeared.
Whitebeard watched him go.
He did not offer the words he had once spoken to so many.
Be my son.
He knew it would be meaningless.