In the world of One Piece, the truth is simple: if you've got the money, you can buy almost anything. The trick lies in availability. So things are just hard to get your hands on—Devil Fruits, Seastone, and high-grade cannons, for instance. Cannons under 12-pound caliber are easy to co by; even small nations can manufacture them on their own. But anything above 18 pounds? That's a whole different story—it takes serious tech and connections.
Take the 24-pound cannons that Gorbo managed to acquire—these are outright banned by the Navy and the World Governnt. Not for sale, not for manufacture. They're only found on Navy warships, regional branches, or with nations allied to the World Governnt. On the black market, they're practically priceless. The mont they surface, they're snapped up by pirate crews, powerful rchant syndicates, or weaker nations outside the World Governnt's sphere.
Pirates don't just rely on the black market, though. Their other go-to thod? Sink or seize a Navy warship. Storm a Marine outpost, capture a base, or even take over a city belonging to a World Governnt ally. That's how they stock up on weapons and gear—through brute force and bold raids.
...
Three days passed in a blur.
At the eastern port of Shiga Island, a massive, triple-masted warship lood over the harbor like a mountain. It was black-hulled with white patterns, and shaped like a wolf's head. Every other ship had been pushed far to the side—none dared anchor within a hundred ters of this beast.
Onshore, hundreds of n in suits and over a thousand thugs of various dress colors had completely taken over the port.
Standing on the docks, Chris T. Aeridar watched the crew bustling aboard the warship. Dozens of gang mbers scrubbed the deck while others hauled food, fresh water, and supplies aboard. Everyone was moving frantically, but their faces were lit up with excitent.
Aeridar couldn't help but feel deeply satisfied. Compared to Luffy's Going rry in the original story, this ship was leagues ahead. It wasn't even close—Aeridar looked down on him just for that.
He'd nad this vessel The Chris. It was 127 ters long, 33 ters wide, 21 ters tall, with a 4-ter draft. It boasted fore, main, and mizzen sails—all made from Shiga Island's rarest and finest ironwood, with an outer layer of iron plating for armor. That wood was so scarce it had taken two and a half years just to finish the build.
It packed serious firepower: sixty-four cannons in total. Forty-two 18-pounders, eighteen 24-pounders, and four 32-pounders.
Both the bow and stern held triple-barreled turrets—each ard with one 32-pounder and two 24-pounders. The port and starboard sides were each lined with twenty-one 18-pounders, six 24-pounders, and a single 32-pounder. It wasn't quite at the Buster Call level in terms of raw cannon size, but it outclassed those warships in sheer number of guns.
Aeridar was a man of indulgence. With so much space on board, The Chris could house over a thousand crew. He'd personally commissioned the shipwrights to add all kinds of extra rooms—for comfort, entertainnt, and sanity during long voyages.
He couldn't help but suspect that part of why pirates liked to plunder so much was simply because sailing got so damn boring.
"Oi, boss! We're just about ready! Coming aboard?"
A lazy voice called down from the ship. A man leaned over the railing, looking half-asleep.
"You—did you drink too much last night?"
Blue-haired Arlan barked from the docks, hands on his hips.
"Oliver! Wake the hell up! Today's the day we set sail!"
Aeridar sighed, then leapt effortlessly onto the deck of The Chris, soaring dozens of ters in a single bound. He glared at the half-asleep man—his strongest fighter—tempted to chuck him straight into the sea to jolt him awake.
This man was Oliver—one of Aeridar's two top enforcers, and the second-strongest in the crew. A dual-wielding swordsman.
He wore a white open jacket, bare-chested with a fearso scar across his chest. Twin katanas hung at his waist. Black fitted pants and round-toed heavy boots completed the look. His narrow eyes stayed half-closed. A hooked nose, thin lips. He gave off a cold, distant aura—but his lazy posture added a strange contradiction.
"Yaaawn~"
Oliver stretched, still bleary-eyed, and mumbled, "Boss... was up training late last night."
"...Do I look like I believe that?" Aeridar deadpanned.
"Captain, we're good to go."
A tall, lean man in a blue coat approached with a bright smile—young, confident, full of energy.
It was Dimitri. Arlan and Gorbo had brought everyone aboard, and all the cargo was finally loaded.
"Then let's get ready, Dimitri."
Aeridar clapped him on the shoulder, noting how much stronger and more mature he'd beco over the years.
Then he turned. Stepping up to the railing, he looked out at the sea of gang mbers and townsfolk that had gathered below.
Drawing a deep breath, Aeridar shouted down to them:
"From this day forward—the Chris Syndicate is no more!"
A wave of gasps rolled through the crowd.
They hadn't expected the top gang on Shiga Island to disband.
People didn't like gangs, but everyone knew—when the Chris Syndicate ran the show, business was safe. Protection fees were half what they used to be, and they didn't extort beyond that. Not even pirates dared ss around on their turf. In this era of rampant piracy, this island had been as close to a haven as any.
"And from this day on—we are the Chris Pirates!"
At that mont, the main sail dropped with a whoosh, and a new flag unfurled atop the central mast.
Black cloth. A skull emblem—classic pirate fare. But behind the skull, one Tachi and one Tsurugi crossed in an X. Hanging from the hilt of each blade was a golden ring. One bore the character for Strength, the other for Freedom—both in bold, stylized Hanzi.
The crowd fell into stunned silence.
Then chaos.
"NO! Boss Aeridar, take with you!"
"I want to join the Chris Pirates too!"
"I was this close to becoming a full mber—don't leave behind!"
"Please! The open sea—that's where real n belong!"
...
Aeridar laughed aloud at the clamor.
"Opportunity cos rarely—miss it, and it might never co again." He grinned down at them. "No one can stop a man from sailing the seas. If you truly want to sail—find us on the Grand Line. If you can reach us, then you may bear my na."
"Brothers! Hoist the sails! We sail!"
"Aye, Captain!!"
Hundreds of voices roared in unison.
The sails rose high. The Chris began to move.
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