The Sabaody Archipelago sprawled across the sea like a collection of massive bubbles frozen in time. Technically, it belonged to the Holy Land Mary Geoise, an autonomous territory under Celestial Dragon authority. Many referred to it as the "Celestial Dragons' Backyard."
The designation was accurate. The archipelago answered to no unified government, no mayor or administrator like Water 7's Iceburg. Even the concept of taxes didn't exist here, because there was nobody to collect them. The Celestial Dragons had never bothered establishing proper governance. They simply owned the place and left it to sort itself out.
This arrangement created both opportunities and dangers.
On the positive side, the business environment was remarkable. No taxes, prime location connecting Paradise and the New World, constant traffic from both directions. Merchants could operate freely, and trade flourished.
On the negative side, survival was precarious.
Pirates flooded through Sabaody constantly, coming and going from the New World. Violent criminals who'd settled their disagreements with knives and guns. The archipelago had been raided multiple times by slave traders, and despite Marine crackdowns, the practice persisted in the shadows.
And then there were the Celestial Dragons themselves. They appeared without warning, did whatever they pleased, and faced zero consequences. If one of them shot you because they disliked your hairstyle, you'd die without recourse. No complaints, no justice, no investigation.
The chaos had naturally divided Sabaody into two distinct regions. The "white world" maintained some semblance of normalcy—legitimate businesses, functioning ports, relatively safe streets. Then there was the "lawless zone." Black market dealers, pirates, slave traders, and worse.
The small merchant vessel carrying Finn and his companions had sailed from Marineford with complete documentation. A legitimate ship with nothing to hide. Naturally, they'd docked at one of the regular ports.
Finn descended from the deck slowly, his mind churning through thoughts about the boy—Luffy—and the problematic nature of his future power.
Specifically, the "Rubber-Rubber Fruit."
Finn nearly scoffed aloud. Rubber-Rubber Fruit. That was the lie the World Government had sold the world for eight centuries. The name they used to erase the fruit's true identity from history.
The Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Nika. The Sun God. The Warrior of Liberation.
In the original timeline, Luffy had awakened this power to become the embodiment of freedom, wielding "the most ridiculous power in the world." It was a fruit with a will of its own, evading the World Government for 800 years until it finally landed in the hands of the one boy with the spirit to match it.
But Finn looked at the situation with cold pragmatism.
The fruit was undeniably powerful, granting the user a body with the properties of rubber and, upon Awakening, the ability to turn imagination into reality. It was a symbol. But did Luffy need to be Nika to be strong?
In the original history, Shanks hadn't just found the fruit lying around to sell for booze money. He had executed a precise raid on a World Government ship guarded by CP9's Who's-Who. Shanks knew exactly what he was stealing. He had bet his arm and the fruit on the "New Era," planting the seed of the Dawn in Windmill Village.
But now? Shanks had been captured. He wouldn't be sailing to the East Blue anytime soon to inspire a young Luffy who moved to Marineford.
The sequence of destiny had been shattered.
The Nika fruit might already be in someone else's stomach. Or, perhaps, without Shanks to intercept it, the World Government had successfully transported it to Mary Geoise. It could be sitting in a vault in the Holy Land, or eaten by some undeserving Celestial Dragon for entertainment.
This was where having a relationship with Doflamingo paid dividends. The man might not match Smoker's business acumen in most areas, but when it came to the underworld and black market, he was the Joker.
Finn made a mental note to contact him. He needed Doflamingo to track down the Gomu Gomu no Mi. He wanted to know if the "Sun God" was still out there, waiting to be found.
However, Finn wasn't dogmatic about it.
If the Nika fruit couldn't be found, that was fine. Finn would simply give Luffy a different ability. Maybe something even more lethal, stripped of the "Joyboy" destiny baggage.
He wasn't in a rush. There was a whole collection of "seeds" locked in Impel Down. Once he secured the Dark-Dark Fruit for his own agenda, he could make proper arrangements for his nephews.
For instance, the frozen "World Destroyer" Byrnndi World possessed the More-More Fruit. A Paramecia capable of amplifying size and speed a hundredfold. Give that to a brawler like Luffy, and he'd be a monster. Or there was that useless pirate Craster whom Finn had killed personally. His Blood-Blood Fruit had potential in the right hands.
Whether Luffy became the "Warrior of Liberation" or simply a terrifyingly strong pirate... Finn didn't particularly care.
Truth be told, whether it was Ace's Flame-Flame Fruit or the Nika Fruit, Finn had agreed to help from a purely personal perspective. An uncle looking after his nephews. No ulterior motives, no utilitarian calculations about "The Dawn of the World."
He didn't need them to save the world. He had his own plans for that.
Lost in thought, Finn walked slowly down the gangplank.
Gion was still aboard, urging Kuzan to move faster. The lazy Vice Admiral had somehow managed to be even slower than Finn. Which meant Hina was actually the first to disembark.
The moment her feet touched the dock, a crowd converged from all directions.
"Beautiful lady! Need coating services?"
"I've got excellent craftsmanship! At least eighty ships I've coated have made it to the New World safely. Probably a hundred!"
"Lodging, miss? Best rates in Sabaody!"
"Want to eat? Brand new restaurant just opened!"
The voices overlapped into a chaotic din. These were Sabaody's working class, scraping together a living. Hina had served as Finn's secretary for years. To the crowd, she was just an attractive woman, and the merchant ship gave no indication it carried two of the Navy's highest powers.
By the time Finn descended, Hina had already persuaded most of the crowd to disperse.
The Admiral listened to the remaining noise with amusement. Watching Hina frantically wave off persistent salespeople was genuinely entertaining.
Then his gaze swept across the remaining crowd, and he froze.
Well now. Speak of the old era.
An elderly figure stood among the hustlers, dressed in remarkably shabby clothes. A tattered coat, worn shorts, and flip-flops. Despite the poor attire, the man was striking.
His hair was gray but retained hints of light gold. Round glasses perched on his nose. One hand waved enthusiastically while shouting something about being "Old Rey, the best coating master in Sabaody Archipelago!" His other hand clutched a small metal flask.
It was Silvers Rayleigh. The Dark King.
Finn knew exactly why he was here. The Right Hand of the Pirate King, waiting in the shadows of the Sabaody Archipelago, watching for the ones who would inherit Roger's will. He was the gatekeeper to the New World for the next generation.
Finn had sent agents looking for him before, but the old fox was elusive. Apparently, the collapse of the slave auction business—courtesy of Finn's previous crackdowns—had hit Rayleigh's wallet hard. He could no longer sell himself into slavery to steal from the buyers. Now, the legend was reduced to honest labor, hustling for coating jobs.
Rayleigh was a master of Haki. Not long after Finn's gaze settled on him, the old man felt the weight of the observation.
He glanced in Finn's direction.
Tall fellow, Rayleigh thought. Wearing a flowered shirt like a tourist. Quite handsome... reminds me a bit of myself in the younger days. Hahahaha.
But something was familiar.
Those eyebrows. That build. The way he held himself—relaxed, yet with a center of gravity that felt immovable.
Wait.
Isn't that the Marine Admiral?
Rayleigh's mind went blank for a heartbeat.
What the hell? Why is an Admiral arriving on a rinky-dink merchant ship instead of a Buster Call warship? Is he undercover?
Recognition crystallized. Admiral Rodriguez Finn. The man who had captured Roger in this timeline.
Rayleigh knew the truth of Roger's surrender, of course. He held no grudge over the capture itself; Roger had chosen his end. But seeing the man who put the cuffs on the Pirate King standing ten meters away on a casual afternoon?
Rayleigh's survival instincts screamed.
He abandoned his coating pitch mid-sentence. He didn't run—that would draw attention—but he began to fade backward, slipping between bodies in the crowd with the fluidity of a ghost.
Finn's response was immediate. A faint lavender halo manifested around his body, gravity coiling at his fingertips. He could crush the dock right now. He could pull the Dark King out of the crowd and into a crater.
Then, he paused.
He watched the old legend scrambling away, clutching his flask, looking for an exit route.
Finn smiled. The gravity dissipated.
Rayleigh was a top-tier combatant. Even past his prime, the man was a monster. Fighting him here would destroy half the grove. With Kuzan and Gion, they would win, certainly. But the collateral damage in Celestial Dragon territory would be a political nightmare.
More importantly, Finn knew Rayleigh's role in the "story." The old man was waiting for Joyboy. Waiting for Nika.
Let him wait, Finn thought with a touch of irony. Without Shanks to deliver the fruit, the boy he's waiting for might never arrive.
Besides, Finn had bigger fish to fry in the New World. Compared to the strategic objectives ahead, a retired pirate mechanic was a waste of stamina.
Finn shook his head, letting the old man disappear into the shadows.
At that moment, Gion and Kuzan finally disembarked. They had sensed Finn's brief flare of Haki.
Ice crept across Kuzan's palms. White mist rose from Gion's eyes as electricity sparked in her pupils—her observation Haki sharpening instantly.
"What's wrong?" they asked simultaneously, flanking him.
Finn smiled, adjusting his flowered shirt. "I just saw Silvers Rayleigh."
Gion's pupils shifted to a deep indigo blue, crackling with electrical energy. "The Dark King? Here?"
"Should we engage?" Kuzan asked, his voice dropping the lazy drawl for cold professionalism.
"The timing's wrong. Let it go." Finn waved a hand dismissively.
Gion and Kuzan relaxed their stances. They trusted his judgment. If Finn said it wasn't the time, it wasn't the time.
Finn watched the spot where Rayleigh had vanished. The old era was fading, hiding in the cracks of the world. Finn was here to build something new, and he didn't need the permission of Roger's ghost—or the Sun God Nika—to do it.
"Come on," Finn said, turning toward the town. "Let's get moving."