At this moment, the atmosphere in the center of the deck had reached a boiling point as a pure contest of strength was underway.
Aldo of the Jellyfish Pirates was locked in an arm-wrestling match against Max of the Roger Pirates. Their arms were tightly clasped together, muscles bulging violently under the strain.
"Come on, Brother Aldo! Don't lose to him!"
"Hey, Max! Show him what we're made of!"
"Push him down! Push him down!"
Crew members from both sides crowded around them, cheering loudly as the uproar pushed the lively atmosphere to new heights.
Aldo gritted his teeth so hard his jaw creaked. Veins bulged at his temples, and his entire face had turned red from exertion.
Across from him, Max wore an equally serious expression, clearly surprised by Aldo's strength.
The deadlock lasted for over thirty seconds, the wooden crate serving as their table groaning beneath the pressure of their struggle.
Finally, after one explosive burst of force—
Aldo's arm was slowly forced downward until the back of his hand slammed heavily against the crate.
Bang!
"WOOOOAH—!!!"
A chaotic mix of astonishment and regret erupted from the crowd.
"Damn, that strength is insane…"
Aldo shook his numb, aching arm with a grimace, but there wasn't a trace of resentment in his eyes—only pure admiration for overwhelming power.
"Is your arm made of iron or something?!"
Max burst into hearty laughter as he rubbed his wrist.
"You're no slouch either, buddy! I almost lost there! Hahaha!"
This testosterone-filled yet friendly competition quickly melted away the last traces of awkwardness between the two crews.
Before long, the pirates from both sides were already throwing arms over each other's shoulders and partying together like old friends.
Meanwhile, atop the upper stern deck, Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami stood side by side with Roger, overlooking the lively chaos below.
Sami's gaze swept across his excited crew before returning to Roger.
He finally asked the question that had lingered in his mind for a long time.
"Captain Roger… with our current strength, if we headed into the New World right now… could we survive there?"
He paused briefly before clarifying,
"I mean in situations where fighting and conflict are unavoidable. Roughly speaking… where would we stand?"
Hearing this, Roger's smile faded slightly.
Arms crossed, he glanced one by one at Aldo, Marcus, Gade, Kahilo, and the other main officers below before pondering for a moment.
"Hmmm… how should I put this…"
He stroked the stubble on his chin.
"You definitely wouldn't count as weak. But you're absolutely not strong either. Maybe… middle tier? Or slightly above average."
He grinned.
"With your special ship and the way you bunch fight like lunatics, surviving and adapting quickly to the brutal rules of the New World shouldn't be a problem."
Then he pointed casually at several people below.
"But if we're talking strictly about individual combat ability… aside from you, the only ones who'd truly have stable self-preservation ability in the kind of conflicts I'm talking about are probably him, him… mm, that rhino kid over there, and the swordsman."
Roger held up four fingers.
"No more than that."
"Actually," he continued, "a lot of your crew already meet the physical standards. The real issue is that almost none of you have awakened Haki yet. That puts you at a serious disadvantage in New World battles."
"Of course," he added with a grin, "if you just wanted to hide somewhere and live peacefully like ordinary people, then none of this matters. There are plenty of quiet corners in the New World too."
"But you're pirates, right?"
Especially you, Sami. I can tell—you're not the type who'd settle for a quiet life."
Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami silently nodded.
His gaze drifted toward his crewmates still laughing and roughhousing below, though a trace of heaviness flickered deep within his eyes.
"So that's how it is…"
He muttered quietly, as though reaching some internal decision.
"Looks like… I'll have to double the training intensity again."
Roger heard him and slapped him on the shoulder with a laugh.
"That's a good mindset to have! There's no end to becoming stronger—but watching your companions grow alongside you is one of the best parts of sailing! Right?"
Roger's attention soon shifted away from the arm-wrestling below.
As though suddenly remembering something, his eyes lit up and he nudged Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami with his elbow.
"Oh right!"
He pointed toward the stern.
"When you guys charged over earlier, that speed was terrifying! Was that also something Tom came up with?"
Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami shook his head.
"No. Not entirely, at least."
He reached into his coat with his left hand and pulled out a strangely shaped shell, holding it out in his palm toward Roger.
"It's because of this."
"Hm?"
Roger curiously took the shell and turned it over in his large hand.
"What's this? Some kind of rare seashell ornament?"
Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami took the shell back and pressed a subtle protrusion on its surface with his thumb.
Whoosh!
A powerful gust of compressed wind suddenly blasted from the shell's narrow opening with a shrill howl.
The force of the air even blew several strands of Roger's black hair backward.
"This is a Jet Dial. One type of Dial from Skypiea."
Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami released the switch, and the airflow stopped instantly.
He spun the shell between his fingers.
"On Sky Island, these shellfish are very special. Normal Wind Dials can store and release air, but Jet Dials are far rarer—they compress and unleash much stronger, longer-lasting bursts of wind."
"I installed an array of Jet Dials at the stern of the Flame Fang. When activated in critical moments, they can give the ship unbelievable acceleration."
"So that's it!"
Roger suddenly understood.
Then he immediately pointed toward the broken ram at the bow.
"And that! The ram that turned red-hot earlier! Don't tell me that's also…"
"Exactly. That's a Heat Dial."
"The people of Sky Island usually use them for cooking and heating fires. But I embedded them into the internal structure of the alloy ram. During combat, they can instantly heat the front section to temperatures high enough to ignite wood on contact."
"For most ships at sea—which are still made of wood…"
"If something like that slams into them head-on…"
"The results would be catastrophic."
Roger rubbed his chin while imagining the scene Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami described.
A blazing crimson ram crashing into the side of a warship with unstoppable force…
But soon afterward, he seemed to think of something else and quickly shook his head as if forcibly dismissing a tempting tactical idea.
"No, no…"
He smacked his lips.
"That probably wouldn't work very well against Garp. If his warship doesn't get pierced through in one hit and he manages to latch onto you instead…"
"…then you'd be in real trouble."
Riberra Riberra Riberra Sami put away the Jet Dial and lifted his gaze toward the distant sky.
"In truth, Sky Island holds far more than just these shells. There are many secrets hidden up there…"
"I think someday, Captain Roger, you'll definitely go there too."
"Oh?"
Roger's eyes brightened immediately.
"The way you describe it, that sea in the sky is sounding more and more interesting!"
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