The Basin. Midnight.
Stars dusted the sky over Bacchus Island like spilled diamonds. In the center of the scarred earth, a massive bonfire roared, casting long, dancing shadows against the ancient trees. A grand banquet—uniting the tribespeople, the Guardian Kong, and the Eclipse crew—was in full swing.
"Get out of my way, Red-Nose! One second off the heat and the fat won't render!"
Leona, now clad in a heavy, dark-brown leather apron, unceremoniously booted Buggy away from the grill. She had refused all help, taking on the task of feeding hundreds of hungry mouths alone.
The ingredients weren't rare—wild boar, forest fowl, mountain mushrooms—but this was her final gift to her people. Her silver blades moved like metallic butterflies, slicing meat into surgical ribbons. In the great stone pots, wild greens and tubers simmered in a broth so aromatic it seemed to strike the very soul.
When the first platters hit the long wooden tables, the basin erupted.
"Mmmph! This is... it's a miracle!" Buggy sobbed, grease staining his face as he double-fisted a roasted leg and a bowl of soup. "I was on the Oro Jackson! I've eaten at the best ports in the world! But this... this is the most satisfying meat I've ever tasted!"
Sabo sat on a nearby log, using a small knife to eat with practiced grace. His eyes widened. "The moisture is perfectly locked in. The spice profile is... remarkable. You've outdone yourself, Leona."
At the head of the table, Ace was the undisputed MVP. A mountain of empty plates already loomed before him. Leona's craft made the tough, prehistoric meat effortless to digest. Ace could feel the nutrients being converted into pure caloric heat, fueling his reconstructed muscles.
"Fifty more pounds!" Ace shouted, flashing a grin.
"Eat, eat, eat! Are you a man or a black hole?" Leona barked, though her hands never slowed. She sent a platter of seared haunch flying across the table, landing perfectly in front of him. As she watched her captain and her kin feast, a rare, tender light flickered in her feline eyes.
The Primal Kong sat nearby, cradling an oversized barrel of fruit wine, letting out a satisfied, rumbling huff. The night was filled with the songs of the tribe, a farewell that lasted until the first hint of gray touched the horizon.
The Outer Port. Dawn.
The Eclipse swayed gently in the morning tide. Ace stood at the bow, the chilly sea breeze snapping his red windbreaker.
Sabo and Carina walked up the gangplank, looking remarkably fresh. Sabo carried a heavy black leather suitcase, while Carina clutched her charts and abacus.
"Morning, Captain," Sabo said, setting the case down with a metallic clunk. "While you were hosting the gala, Carina and I took the liberty of visiting the port. We 'liberated' the contents of Truff's private vault."
"The man was a hoarder," Carina chirped, patting the case. "Between the hard cash and the high-grade naval supplies we seized, the Eclipse is fully provisioned for the next leg of the journey."
"Perfect," Ace nodded. Having these two handle the logistics made his life infinitely easier. He glanced at the Log Pose on Carina's wrist. "Is the lock set?"
"Fully reset this morning." Carina's expression turned sober as she consulted her map. "But the news isn't great. The next island is Ferrum."
"Climate issues?" Ace asked.
"Industrial ones," Carina replied, pointing to a coordinate. "Ferrum is a heavy-industry hub, famous for weapon manufacturing and high-grade steel. But the latest intel says the country is currently tearing itself apart in a brutal, three-way civil war. It's a literal furnace of gunpowder and lead."
"A warzone, huh?" Ace looked out at the shimmering blue horizon, a calm, daring smile spreading across his face.
"Even better. If we're going to survive the Grand Line, we need the best steel money—or Haki—can buy. If they're at war, they'll have plenty of metal and ready-made armaments. As long as they don't block our path, their politics don't concern me."
A heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the docks. The Primal Kong was escorting a small group to the water's edge. The tribal elders stood there, waving through tears at the tall, red-haired woman approaching the ship.
Leona carried a backpack so massive it dwarfed her, filled with her cherished knives, sharpening oils, and tribal spices.
"Go back now, big guy," Leona called out to the Kong. "Keep an eye on the woods. Don't let any more swine catch you off guard."
The Kong let out a low, mournful whimper, patting the sand with its massive palm in a final goodbye. Leona took a deep breath, wiped a stray tear, and strode onto the deck.
"The galley is on the second level," Sabo greeted her with a smile. "Welcome to the crew, Leona. I think I speak for everyone when I say we're looking forward to breakfast."
"Count on it!" Leona dropped her gear, patting the Iron Tusk at her hip. She looked around the sleek, black ship, her eyes burning with the thrill of the hunt.
Ace turned to his crew—his navigator, his strategist, his boatswain, and his new chef. A wanton, kingly smile curled his lips.
"Weigh anchor, Buggy!"
"Destination: Ferrum!"
"Aye, Captain!"
The pitch-black sails unfurled with a thunderous crack. The Eclipse, like a dark blade cutting through silk, glided out of the harbor. Behind them, the Primeval Island faded into the mist; ahead of them, a nation of steel and smoke awaited.
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