The war in the Golden Sea raged on, yet far from that chaos, Marshall D. Teach arrived alone at a small island hidden within the Calm Belt.
This stretch of sea lay south of the Sageros Sea, linking toward West Blue. With the Nightfall Pirates controlling the surrounding waters, the area was effectively untouchable.
This island was known as Dark Night Island No. 1.
It served a very specific purpose.
Here, the underground organization "Black Hole," controlled directly by Teach, trained spies and intelligence operatives. Since there was a No. 1, there were naturally No. 2 and No. 3 islands as well, but this one stood above the rest in importance.
Because the people here were not ordinary agents.
They were spies.
More precisely, elites meant to infiltrate the Marines and the World Government.
Strength and talent were mandatory. Without power, there was no path into the upper ranks of those forces.
Despite existing for only two years, the results were already beginning to show.
Some trainees had risen from other Dark Night islands. Others had distinguished themselves at the Dark Night Military Academy. Their numbers were small, only seventy to eighty in total, and their current strength was still developing, yet their potential far surpassed that of ordinary recruits.
Most had the potential to become commissioned officers.
Of course, potential was never absolute. Some geniuses bloomed late, others went unnoticed entirely. The Nightfall Pirates used two primary standards.
The first was innate physique. Some bodies were simply born stronger, with physical gifts that far exceeded the norm.
The second was growth rate.
Those who improved rapidly under training revealed far greater ceilings than those who progressed slowly.
The Nightfall Pirates did not waste time creating assassins like the World Government. Assassins had limited value.
What Teach wanted were powerful infiltrators. People capable of climbing high within the Marines.
Even if they failed to reach the top, they could still serve elsewhere, embedding themselves within other forces and expanding Nightfall influence.
As for the World Government itself, Teach already had plans.
Especially regarding CP0.
He knew fragments of their training locations, but those places were heavily guarded. Planting spies there was extremely difficult.
Which was why the Memory-Memory Fruit became essential.
With it, memories of being trained by the Nightfall Pirates could be erased. Once embedded within the World Government, those memories could later be restored.
Clean. Efficient. Nearly flawless.
Of course, the ability had limits.
It could not rewrite an entire life. At best, it could alter or remove specific segments. And the agents of the World Government were often trained from childhood, their loyalty deeply ingrained.
Turning them outright was far more difficult than creating new assets from scratch.
Now, the first batch was ready.
Seventy-three individuals stood in formation.
The youngest was twelve. The oldest, eighteen.
All of them were young.
Among them, one stood out.
Fifteen years old, already over two meters tall, with wheat-colored skin and a rugged face that carried traces of hardship far beyond his years.
Ian Novoa.
Born in North Blue to a fallen noble family. At eight, his household was destroyed in a conflict between nobles. He survived alone, fled across the seas, and eventually reached West Blue.
There, he was captured and sold as a slave.
He would have remained one, if not for Teach.
At the time, Teach had been purchasing slaves through intermediaries, gathering manpower for his expanding territory. Novoa was among those rescued and brought into the Sageros Sea through the Calm Belt.
From there, his path changed.
He could have chosen a quiet life as a civilian under Nightfall protection.
Instead, he chose this.
Spy training was harsh, but not oppressive. They had freedom within limits, access to knowledge, and their needs were met.
Compared to the conditions within CP9 or CP0, it was heaven.
More importantly, they had chosen this path themselves.
Teach stood before them, silent.
His presence alone pressed down like a mountain.
Every trainee stood rigid, enduring the pressure. Their gazes were filled with awe, excitement, even fanaticism.
This was their first time seeing him in person.
"I am Teach," he said with a faint smile. "Though we are meeting for the first time, I know every one of your names."
The pressure vanished instantly.
Relief flooded their bodies, replaced by something else.
Excitement.
Recognition.
"Being a spy is not as frightening as you think," Teach continued. "You do not need to abandon who you are. We never gave you code names, and we never will."
"You will not hide in the shadows. You will live as yourselves."
He paused slightly, then added,
"But you must remember who you are. From this moment forward, you are members of the Nightfall Pirates."
Their breathing grew heavier.
"You stood out from countless others. Even without this role, you would hold positions of status within the crew."
"If you can, treat this as a game. A role to play."
"If you fail, you can leave. If you are exposed, if you sense danger, you may abandon your mission and return."
It was a promise.
A safety net.
The trainees wore masks. They did not know each other's identities. Their assignments had already been prepared. They would scatter across the Four Blues and the first half of the Grand Line, seeking entry into the Marines.
"Bailan," Teach said, glancing to the side. "I'll leave it to you."
"Yes, Captain."
Bailan stepped forward.
A scholar in appearance, calm and unassuming. He possessed no combat ability, serving instead as one of the Nightfall Pirates' civil officials and Mostima's assistant.
His power lay elsewhere.
The Memory-Memory Fruit.
The moment his ability activated, one after another, the trainees collapsed into unconsciousness.
Memories were sealed. Altered. Adjusted.
The process would take time.
Only one person remained standing.
Novoa.
He blinked, confused.
"Why…?"
Teach approached him slowly, a faint smile on his face.
"Tell me," Teach said, "what kind of justice will you follow?"
Novoa froze.
Then he understood.
This was not a question. It was a test.
Among the Marines, every high-ranking officer carried their own definition of justice.
Absolute Justice. Lazy Justice. Moral Justice.
If he wanted to rise, he needed his own.
He thought of his past.
Of nobles. Of corruption. Of survival.
Of freedom.
"I would do what I want," Novoa said finally, his voice steady. "Justice that does whatever it wants."
He hesitated, then added,
"Within the rules."
The Marines had grown stricter in recent years. With Sakazuki tightening discipline, stepping outside the system entirely was no longer viable.
Teach laughed.
Genuine amusement filled his expression.
"That's interesting."
That was exactly the kind of answer he wanted.
Not blind obedience. Not empty ideals.
Personality.
Conviction.
"I look forward to seeing how far you go," Teach said.
Novoa straightened. "Yes, Captain."
"It won't be long before you are sent to the first half of the Grand Line."
Novoa glanced at the unconscious figures behind him, then back at Teach.
"So I…"
"You don't need it," Teach said simply.
There was trust in his tone.
And confidence.
The Marines could not offer more than what the Nightfall Pirates already did.
Then, with a casual motion, a dark vortex formed in Teach's palm. A box emerged and dropped into Novoa's hands.
"Take it."
Novoa opened it carefully.
Inside was a Devil Fruit.
Beside it, a manual.
His breath caught.
A Logia.
The Steam Fruit.
The manual detailed its development, combat applications, and multiple pathways of growth. It included not only prior research, but also refinements from the Nightfall Pirates' scientists.
Cold. Heat. Expansion. Pressure.
A complete roadmap.
With this, Novoa could grow rapidly.
The Marines were currently short on manpower. Their ranks would expand, and opportunities would follow.
Teach had already arranged everything.
Entry into the Marine Elite Training Camp. Advancement. Promotion.
All the pieces were in place.
For Novoa, and for the others.
The next phase had begun.
The infiltration of Marineford itself.