Deep-sea currents—the water that hits the Red Line and sinks down to the seafloor is said to take a whole two thousand years to reach the depths and surface again. Monsters, curses, souls of the dead—the sea is greater than the life span of a human being, country, tradition, or any other artifact of human civilization. It’s an object of fear and awe.
Once through the seafloor cavern near Fish-Man Island, you’re on to the second half of the world.
From there, you grab the rising currents to take you upward, from the abyssal depths to where the light trickles down. Above a depth of a thousand meters, the near-freezing water undergoes a dramatic transformation. Once in the sea layers where temperature rises and light penetrates, when the sailors see the direct light of the sun through the sudsy layer of the ship’s coating, they realize that they’re about to be freed from the ever-present cage of silent, deadly water pressure. With that rush comes the sense of what drove them to adventure on the sea in the first place: a yearning for and fear of the unknown, combined in an irresistible and indescribable exhilaration.
That is the light that leads to the New World.
And the majority of the pirates who survive the 70 percent failure rate of the Fish-Man Island trip find themselves shouting something else shortly after they reach the New World:
“I don’t want to die! Let’s go back to Paradise!”
A Jolly Roger consisting of a flaming skull with goggles, over a spade symbol.
The Piece of Spadille had made the trip up from ten thousand meters under the sea, through the base of the Red Line.
“I wanna eat seaweed brûlée, seaweed tarts, seaweed soufflé…”
“Are you guys men or not?”
Ace was annoyed at how nostalgic the crew members were for the frilly, girly Mermaid Café, as a pungent stew of deep-sea fish bubbled before them.
“You don’t know, Captain Ace, you weren’t there! The singing voices of the mermaids, the delicate flavors…”
“Take a hint from Kotatsu.”
“Grrr…meow?”
Kotatsu had been given one of the deep-sea fish heads and he was crunching down on it, bones and all.
“Whose flame do you think is cooking this stew, anyway?”
“It’s all thanks to you of course, Captain. We’re sorry, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”
A huge cast-iron pot was bubbling away in the middle of the Piece of Spadille’s mess hall.
Firewood was a valuable resource on a ship, and also a potential fire hazard, so you had to be very careful with it—on a normal ship. The Spade Pirates, naturally, were different. Having a captain with the Flame-Flame Fruit helped in that regard. He could simply adjust the fire to the strength that was needed to help cook.
“I don’t care if it looks like cat food, it’s a blessing just to get a hot meal while you’re out at sea…”
“That’s not a compliment, Ace.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said to Banshee. She clanged two ladles together menacingly, and the crew all went back to poking at their stew, murmuring insincerely about how delicious it was.
“About our earlier topic, Ace,” Deuce muttered under his breath.
“Hmm? What was that?”
“I was asking if you were serious about meeting with him to…”
But Deuce couldn’t even finish his sentence before the lookout burst into the mess hall.
“Captain! Enemy ships!”
“Awright!” Ace shot to his feet as if he’d been hoping this would happen. The others blew on their bowls of stew and began shoveling it in, making sure they didn’t miss out on a meal.
“Listen up, boys! Forget about the underlings. Look for the real prize…a cook to recruit to our crew!”
“Yeah!” cheered the Spade Pirates.
On the horizon, lightning was raining down on a distant island.
It was still midday, but the area was choked with dark clouds. Even on the Grand Line, the New World was above and beyond the norm. Volcanic rocks fell from the sky. Hurricanes, with several times their usual energy, were utterly destructive. Simply sailing a ship here was taking your life into your own hands.
“Give us a break…we’re just trying to get out of here!” sobbed a man wearing a captain’s hat, slumped on the ground before Ace.
“And you didn’t bother to check our pirate flag first? Did you realize you were attacking the Spade Pirates?” Deuce asked in the captain’s stead.
“We didn’t know! We just wanted to take your ship.”
“They got nothin’, Captain Ace!” said Skull, returning to the deck. “Their hold’s empty.”
“Not surprised. What’s with the pirate ships in the New World? They’re all cheapskates,” Ace grumbled. And it didn’t look like he was getting his cook.
“This ship’s falling apart. It’s a wonder it’s still floating. We can’t even dismantle it for anything more than scrap wood.”
It was the third time the Spade Pirates had been attacked since entering the New World, but for some reason, all of their enemies were in tatters before the fight even started.
“We were just trying to take your ship to escape! We want to go back to Paradise! C’mon, do us a solid!”
All of them wanted to return to Paradise—back to the first half of the Grand Line, where they’d enjoyed reasonable prestige as pirates.
“Fine, fine. I’ve heard enough from you gentlemen. I’ve got no more use for you.” Ace made a gun gesture with his fingers.
“H-hey, pal, what do ya say? We could be your underlings. Let us ride on your ship. And take my advice…turn back now! Trust me, you’ll want to—”
Fwum.
A ball of fire shot from Ace’s extended fingertip. It burst through the enemy flag and burned it to a crisp in seconds. “Sorry, I’m not interested in your flag,” he said, and gave his crew the order to withdraw.