Deep in the Jurassic Interior. The crackle of a dying fire.
Leona lay in the shallow crater, her slitted eyes fixed on Ace for a long, silent moment.
"Send every unknown monster on this sea to my cutting board?" She panted, then suddenly threw her head back and laughed. It was a wild, blood-pumping sound—the laugh of a chef who had just been offered the keys to the world's greatest kitchen.
On this island, strength was the only currency that didn't devalue. The black-haired man before her hadn't just crushed her physically; his bone-deep composure had dismantled her pride.
"Since your skin held against my steel, the Tyrannosaur is yours," Leona said, grunting as she used her greatsword to lever herself up. She rolled up her sleeves, sheathing her twin blades with a practiced snap. "But if I let a brute like you roast it, it'd be a crime against the meat. It's a top-tier tenderloin."
She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. "The name's Leona. Go fetch some dry wood. I'll show you what real primal cuisine looks like."
Ace stood back, watching the red-haired woman work. She was clean, straightforward, and carried no wasted motion. This was exactly the kind of chef a pirate king needed.
"Portgas D. Ace," he said, turning to gather the wood.
Thirty minutes later.
A roaring bonfire illuminated the jungle clearing.
Leona's professionalism was nothing short of surgical. Her silver boning knife danced like a metallic butterfly, stripping the fat-marbled cuts away from the bone with impossible speed. She produced a satchel of vibrant, strange spices, pounding them into the grain of the meat until the flavors were locked in deep.
As the Tyrannosaur meat sizzled over the flames, golden fat dripped into the embers, releasing an aroma so rich it felt like a physical weight.
"Eat," Leona said, tossing a twenty-pound slab of perfectly charred meat toward Ace. "Ancient species usually taste like bitter iron and swamp water. I used local herbs to kill the acidity. The pounding technique broke the fibers, so the calories are ready for immediate fuel."
Ace caught the meat and tore into it. His eyes widened.
The flavor was explosive—rugged, savory, and deep. But more importantly, his Suzaku-modified digestive system purred. Usually, his stomach had to work overtime to convert Sea King meat into energy. Leona's cooking had pre-processed the "wild" impurities, allowing the pure vitality of the beast to flow directly into his veins.
"This is the chef I need," Ace said, swallowing a massive mouthful. "The efficiency of this meal is incredible. You've turned food into a high-octane potion."
"Of course I did. I was born to cook monsters," Leona said, taking a long pull from a flask of heavy liquor.
After the meal, Ace leaned against a fallen log, watching her through the dancing flames. "So, why stay here? Why play savage in a forest when you could be the Head Chef of the Eclipse? My offer still stands. The world is full of ingredients that would make this dinosaur look like a snack."
Leona paused, her hand slowing as she wiped the blood from her cleaver. For a second, a desperate, beautiful yearning flickered in her feline eyes. "Hunting the Great Kraken... finding the beasts of the New World..."
She sighed, and the light in her eyes died. Click. She sheathed her blade and looked at Ace, shaking her head. "I can't leave, Ace. I appreciate the offer, but I'm anchored here."
Her voice turned heavy. "Finish your meal and leave Bacchus as fast as you can. This island is deeper than it looks. It's not a place for rookies."
Ace remained silent, his dark eyes urging her to continue.
"The coast is a paradise, but this interior is a slaughterhouse," Leona spat, her knuckles turning white. "The island is controlled by an underground tycoon—'Gourmet Predator' Truff. 85-million-Berry bounty. He's a psychopath. He treats the locals as slaves and the ecology as his personal toy box. He doesn't hunt out of respect; he captures these ancient beasts to satisfy the sadistic whims of World Nobles."
She gritted her teeth. "They use nerve gas to paralyze them, then serve them alive and screaming on banquet tables. I will never forgive that. Not as long as I draw breath."
Ace listened, his expression unreadable. He was well-acquainted with the rot of the nobility. "An 85-million-Berry bounty. You can't take him alone."
"I know," Leona said, standing up. Her shadow stretched long across the dirt. She grabbed her heavy blades, her gaze hardening. "But deep in this forest sleeps our tribe's guardian—the Primal Kong. He's hundreds of years old. The last of his kind. He is the dignity of this forest."
She looked toward the dark heart of the jungle. "Truff and his poachers have been hunting him for months. As the last guardian of my people, I patrol this wood day and night. As long as I'm standing, they don't touch the Kong."
She looked back at Ace and gave him a faint, weary smile. "Thanks for the invite, Captain Ace. If I don't die here, maybe I'll see you in the New World. I'll cook you a proper roast then."
With that, she vanished into the dense undergrowth like a red-haired ghost.
The bonfire crackled.
Ace sat on the log, savoring the last piece of meat on the bone. He didn't rush to stop her. He just enjoyed the perfection of her craft one last time.
"Gourmet Predator Truff. 85 million Berries."
Ace muttered the name, tossing the clean bone into the embers. Usually, he didn't care about local politics or tribal feuds. But Leona was different. She was the first person he had personally claimed as his own in the Grand Line.
Leaving his future chef to be slaughtered by poachers while she guarded an overgrown ape? That wasn't in his script.
"A Primal Kong... and a bunch of nobles who think they can play God."
Ace stood up, his dark red windbreaker snapping in the jungle breeze. He stepped on the fire, crushing the last of the light into the dirt. He began to walk in the direction Leona had taken, his steps heavy and purposeful.
"If I've set my sights on a chef..."
A cold, domineering amusement played on his lips.
"Then breaking her chains is just part of the Captain's job."
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