Chapter 54: The Golden Cage amp; The Banned Beastmaster

The sky above the Red Line was razor-thin and bitterly cold.

For days, the Titan’s Glory had been ascending, carried tirelessly in the massive, powerful talons of the Sky-Rift Roc.

We had completely bypassed the traditional, dangerous underwater route of Fishman Island, choosing instead to fly directly over the towering, barren red rock that divided the globe in half.

I stood on the bow of the ship, the frigid wind whipping my heavy coat around my legs.

Robin stood beside me, her arms crossed against the chill, her dark eyes fixed on the horizon where the clouds seemed to boil.

“We are crossing the threshold, Captain,” Robin said quietly, a mix of anticipation and caution in her voice.

The moment we passed the apex of the Red Line, the atmosphere didn’t just change; it violently fractured.

The relatively calm blue skies of Paradise instantly morphed into a bruised, unnatural purple.

Lightning began to strike upward from a churning, black ocean.

Massive gravity anomalies twisted the sea into terrifying whirlpools that could swallow a Marine battleship whole without leaving a trace.

Welcome to the second half of the Grand Line.

Welcome to the New World.

I flared my Advanced Observation Haki, projecting my senses outward through the tempest.

“Steady the rigging!” I yelled to the crew over the howling wind.

I guided the Roc through the chaotic weather patterns, finding a narrow, stable corridor in the storm.

With a deafening screech, the colossal bird gently lowered our Adam Wood fortress onto the treacherous, dark waters, the hull splashing down heavily but securely.

Before we could even catch our breath from the descent, the encrypted Revolutionary Den Den Mushi sitting in the galley began to ring.

Bacha-cha-cha.

Bacha-cha-cha.

I walked inside and picked up the receiver.

“Victor.”

“Victor Bhai?” a familiar, slightly strained voice came through the speaker.

My posture immediately softened, the tension of the New World storm bleeding out of my shoulders.

“Koala?

Hey, kiddo.

Everything alright?

You sound stressed.”

Even though we were cousins, I had always looked at Koala like a second little sister, right alongside Jasmine.

And judging by the tone of her voice, she wasn’t calling just to catch up.

“I need a massive favor, Victor,” Koala said, her voice dropping to a serious, urgent whisper.

“And I wouldn’t ask if we had any other options right now.”

“You don’t ever have to ask for a favor, Koala.

Just tell me what you need and it’s done,” I said without a second of hesitation.

“Who do I need to hit?”

I could hear a small, relieved exhale on the other end of the line.

“The Underworld managed to capture a highly classified, top-tier Revolutionary asset.

We just found out he was sold to Gild Tesoro and is currently locked deep inside the subterranean vaults of Gran Tesoro.

We need him back before Tesoro hands him over to Cipher Pol, but our main forces are tied up.”

Gran Tesoro.

The ten-kilometer-long entertainment city-ship.

The absolute largest casino in the world and an independent nation recognized by the World Government.

“Tesoro is currently hosting an exclusive, underground Colosseum tournament for the New World’s elite,” Koala continued, her tactical mind taking over.

“The grand prize is a rare, completely unknown Devil Fruit.

Here is the plan: I need you to use your new Warlord status to gain VIP entry.

Enter the tournament, cause a massive distraction, and draw Tesoro’s eyes to the arena.

While he’s focused on you, your crew executes a heist to rescue our asset.”

“A casino heist and a Warlord-sanctioned bar brawl,” I mused, a grin spreading across my face.

“Sounds like a family vacation.

We’re on it.”

“Thank you, Victor.

Seriously,” Koala said warmly.

“And just so you know, the tournament bracket is packed with high-value, independent New World pirates.

You can bag the heads you need to fulfill your deal with Garp while you’re at it.”

“Perfect.

Stay safe out there, Koala.

I’ll call you when we have the package.”

I hung up the snail and turned to the crew, who had gathered in the galley to listen.

“Change of heading, everyone.

We’re going to the casino.”

Two days later, a second sun appeared on the horizon.

Gran Tesoro was a blinding, colossal metropolis made almost entirely of gold, dazzling under a permanent, extravagant shower of artificial light and fireworks.

The sheer scale of the golden ship defied logic.

As we approached the glittering harbor, massive security ships with solid golden hulls moved to intercept us, their heavy cannons aimed dead at the Titan’s Glory.

“Halt!

State your business and prepare to pay the entry toll!” a security captain barked through a golden megaphone.

“Massive pirate crews are heavily restricted from entering the city limits!”

I didn’t argue, and I didn’t reach for a weapon.

I simply walked to the bow of the ship, pulled out the heavy, golden World Government Warlord insignia Sengoku had begrudgingly given me, and held it up to the artificial light.

The security captain choked on his own words, his eyes bugging out of his skull.

The golden ships immediately parted like the Red Sea, their crews scrambling to stand at attention.

The massive, towering gates of Gran Tesoro groaned open, offering the new Warlord of the Sea absolute, uncontested VIP clearance.

We docked in the lavish private harbor reserved for nobles and high-ranking officials.

Waiting for us at the end of a plush red carpet was Baccarat, Tesoro’s elegant executive concierge.

She bowed deeply, her green hair catching the light, completely unbothered by the imposing aura of my crew.

“Welcome to the ultimate entertainment capital of the world, Warlord Costa,” Baccarat greeted smoothly.

As we walked into the main city, the sheer opulence was staggering.

Golden dust literally rained from the sky.

Perona’s eyes practically turned into Berry symbols as she looked at the towering casinos, Brook marveled at the world-class concert stages, and Gammamon ran around trying to catch the sparkling golden dust on his tongue.

Baccarat handed me a sleek, platinum VIP card.

“We aim to please the World Government’s finest.

We have comped your penthouse suites and loaded your card with unlimited casino chips.

If there is anything you desire during your stay, simply ask.”

“Actually,” I said, flashing a charming, arrogant smile as I slipped the card into my coat pocket.

“I heard there was a Colosseum tournament happening soon.

I’d like to register.”

Baccarat’s perfectly practiced smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

She tapped a golden earpiece hidden beneath her hair, murmuring something far too quiet for a normal person to hear.

A moment later, two massive, heavily armed executives stepped out from the shadows of the casino entrance, blocking the path to the arena.

“I deeply apologize, Warlord Costa,” Baccarat said smoothly, though her eyes were sharp.

“But Lord Tesoro has explicitly denied your entry into the Colosseum.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?

And why is that?”

“You recently fought Admiral Aokiji to a standstill, tearing apart a Buster Call fleet in the process,” she explained, her voice tight.

“Putting a man who can go toe-to-toe with the Navy’s highest military power into the ring would completely ruin the betting odds.

It wouldn’t be fair to the other competitors, and it would bankrupt the bookies.

The house must maintain balance.”

I stared at her for a moment, letting the silence stretch, and then I burst out laughing.

Banned from a bloodsport for being too strong.

It was incredibly flattering, and entirely hilarious.

“Fine.

I respect the house rules,” I said, stepping aside and pointing down at the little white triceratops standing next to my boots.

“I won’t fight.

I’m registering my friend.”

Baccarat blinked, looking down at Gammamon, who was currently chewing on a piece of leftover Sea King jerky.

“Your…

friend?”

Gammamon looked up, swallowed his jerky, and cracked his knuckles.

A feral, deeply terrifying grin spread across his cute face.

He reached into Perona’s bag, pulled out a tiny, souvenir gladiator helmet we had picked up at a previous island, and proudly strapped it to his head.

“Yes, my friend,” I smirked, leaning against the golden railing.

“And I’d like to place a wager.

Put one hundred million Berries on the Vanguard to win it all.”

Word Count: 1378

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