They hadn't been out long when Anus found them — a pirate ship flying a skull flag, cruising the waters near Beehive.
"My lord. Intel's ready."
Diumili stepped up beside him and unrolled a wanted poster. The face on it belonged to a rough-looking man with his tongue hanging out.
"The Red Dog Pirates. Captain 'Red Dog' Sagin, bounty of one hundred million Berries. A Supernova — came through Paradise and just crossed into the New World."
To the average pirate from the four Blues, the first half of the Grand Line might as well have been a death sentence. But to anyone already operating in the New World, Paradise was more like a warm-up. That's why the name had stuck — Paradise.
"Combined crew bounty comes to three hundred eighty million Berries." Diumili kept his eyes down. "I believe they're a suitable target for field training."
"Fine. Let's use them."
Anus gave a small nod. Diumili turned to give the order to close in — and then stopped. The other ship was already turning toward them.
He blinked, just slightly.
Anus, on the other hand, looked almost amused. "Interesting. They see a ship flying Rocks's flag and they sail toward it?"
It had been a while since he'd run into someone that green. Though for a Supernova, it wasn't entirely surprising.
A Supernova was what you called a rookie who'd shot past a hundred-million-Berry bounty in a short time. No one earned that title by being ordinary — to make it from the Blues, through all of Paradise, and into the New World was an achievement that maybe produced a handful of people in a given year.
There was real talent there. No question.
But the problem with people like that was that they'd never really been stopped. No major failure. No moment where the world hit back hard. It bred a kind of arrogance that was almost structural — not a personality flaw so much as a gap in their education.
The Supernovas who came up through Paradise were different from the ones who'd been forged in the New World from the start. Kid, Hawkins — that type. Confident in a way that tended to make the fall much worse when it finally came.
"Charging headfirst into something they can't handle," Diumili said quietly. "That's what Supernovas do."
Aboard the Red Dog Pirates' ship:
Captain Sagin stood at the bow with his tongue out and a mean grin on his face.
"That's them — has to be! I remember that flag from the papers!"
Rocks was the biggest name on the sea right now, and his flag was famous enough that even people from the four Blues recognized it. Most rookies who entered the Grand Line had Rocks in their sights as the ultimate benchmark.
Sagin was no different. His plan was to beat Rocks, make a name for himself overnight, and take Beehive Island for his own. He didn't know much about the actual situation on the island — didn't need to, as far as he was concerned. His strength was enough to handle whatever was there. Rocks was famous, sure, but only because he'd picked a fight with the World Government. Nothing special about the man himself.
"Captain... are we sure just sailing straight at them is a good idea?"
His crew was noticeably less enthusiastic. Several of them looked pale.
"The hell are you scared of? You questioning my strength?"
The crewmate opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
Fair enough — the captain's track record spoke for itself. Sagin had earned the name Red Dog honestly, fighting like a mongrel who'd locked his jaws and wouldn't let go no matter what. He'd led the crew from the Blues through all of Paradise, robbed World Government member-states, and slipped out of Marine encirclements multiple times. That was worth a hundred million Berries.
But this was the Rocks Pirates.
The doubt didn't last long anyway. Because something strange was happening on the other ship.
"Captain — they're... shooting clouds?!"
Sagin turned. On the enemy deck, a row of winged figures had bows drawn. They loosed — and where the arrows flew, trails of cloud formed in the air. Precise, deliberate arcs that reached across the gap between the ships and connected to the Red Dogs' gunwale like bridges.
"The—"
Before Sagin could finish the thought, the winged figures were already moving. They stepped onto the cloud paths and came across fast — almost sliding.
By the time it clicked, they were already on the deck.
"Who the hell are you people?! Where's Rocks?!"
"We are the Angel Corps, under Lord Anus's command," the winged soldiers answered in unison. "Rocks isn't here."
Sagin's face fell. "What?! Then what's with the flag?!"
"We follow Lord Anus's orders. That's all we know."
"Orders? What orders?"
"To take you down."
On that, the Angel Corps fanned out instantly — a complete encirclement, no blind spots, covering the gunwales, the deck, even the barrels stacked near the mast.
Sagin's eye twitched. He was about to make his move, but they were faster. More cloud arrows flew.
Step aside and let them tire themselves out? He figured he could use his usual approach — find the head, lock on, and not let go until everything else collapsed.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down. A clean slash across his chest, like a sword cut — except none of them were holding weapons.
"...What?"
The strangeness of it crawled under his skin.
"Reject Dials," said the soldier who'd attacked him. "From Skypiea — Lord Anus's homeland. A Blue Sea pirate like you wouldn't know them."
Reject... Dials.
The Angel Corps had been built and initially trained by Anus himself before he handed that responsibility over to Diumili. That origin showed — the Corps fought in a distinctly Sky Island style.
On Sky Islands, dense physical matter was rare, almost nonexistent unless it came from below. What the islanders had instead was Dial technology — shells that could store and release different forms of energy. From that foundation, a whole system of combat techniques had developed.
Anus himself had moved on from all of it once he ate the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. But before that, he'd been one of the best Dial users around, and he'd passed everything he knew to his people. Diumili carried the full tradition and had trained the Corps in it.
The shells the soldier had used on Sagin were Axe Dials — the same type used by Enel's Divine Soldiers in the original timeline. Every member of the Angel Corps carried them. One clean hit was enough to kill an ordinary person.
Sagin came back to himself and looked around. His crew was down. All of them, slumped in blood, sliced up like they'd been worked over with blades.
"Captain... help..."
A few were still breathing, still calling out. Sagin barely registered them. Because the Corps soldiers were all coming at him now.
"Alright, you're better than I expected — but I'm Red Dog!"
He threw himself forward, going for the attack.
He got nothing.
The Corps had laid cloud formations across the entire ship while he wasn't looking. Long cloud-paths coiling in every direction like snakes, reshaping the terrain around him. In an unfamiliar environment, Sagin couldn't get a read on any of them — they slipped past him like eels, and the whole time, Axe Dial slashes kept coming from angles he couldn't track.
He had the raw strength of a hundred-million-Berry man. In a straight fight, he was above any individual Corps soldier. But this wasn't a straight fight.
The Corps worked in tight coordination, used weapons he'd never seen, and fought in a terrain they'd built for themselves. His own style was direct and aggressive, easy to read — and completely useless in a cloud-choked deck where he couldn't find anyone to grab onto. He was running out of room.
On the other ship, Anus watched with genuine interest.
Sagin was tough. He'd absorbed several Axe Dial hits that would have dropped anyone else — the kind of durability that backed up the hundred-million-Berry number. But the Corps kept their distance, moved on the wind boots, and worked him down steadily without rushing in or taking unnecessary risks.
Calm. Patient. Not overreaching.
At this rate, Sagin was done. His only way out was to adapt to the cloud terrain fast and figure out how to counter the Dials, then match the speed of the wind boots. Wind Boots were built for cloud movement and loaded with Breath Dials for acceleration — catching them in any reasonable timeframe wasn't happening. And even if he did, they'd pull away again.
"That's enough, Diumili. Finish it."
Once he had the read he needed, Anus gave the word.
"Understood, my lord."
Diumili's answers were always immediate. By the time the words left his mouth, he'd already dropped down in front of Sagin. The Corps pulled back without being asked — they knew what it meant.
Sagin caught his breath. He looked rough — bloodshot eyes, captain's coat in shreds, blood running down the slash wounds and dripping onto the cloud-covered deck. But he steadied himself and looked up at the figure in front of him. Black wings. Black bandages wrapped from head to toe, only the eyes showing. Like a shadow in the shape of a man.
"You're the one in charge? You're Anus?"
"You don't have the standing to meet Lord Anus yet."
Diumili said it flatly, and raised his right hand — still wrapped in black bandages.
Sagin gritted his teeth. Fine. This was better, actually. One target he could lock onto and not let go — his whole game plan simplified back to something he understood.
He didn't think. He just charged.
He never got there.
Something hit him like a cruise ship at full speed, square in the chest. He crashed backward through the gunwale and hit the water.
The Corps soldiers reacted instantly.
"Incredible—"
"A Reject Dial used that cleanly — that's Lord Diumili for you."
The Reject Dial was an ancient shell type, ten times more powerful than an Impact Dial — and an Impact Dial could already kill. The problem was the recoil: it was enough to destroy whoever fired it. Nobody could use one reliably.
Diumili could. Lunarian constitution.
The only sign anything had happened was a thin curl of smoke rising from beneath the bandages on his palm.
With the training exercise done, Anus led the Corps back to Beehive.
As they passed through the port, he caught a look from somewhere in the crowd — a kid, watching with wide eyes and something like awe. Anus didn't slow down. That kind of thing happened every day.
But when he got back to Sora Tower, something he hadn't expected was waiting for him.
"Wahahaha!"
The laugh was big, loud, and completely at home with itself. The man it belonged to wore a black fur coat with nothing underneath, and had that blue-white hair and the lightning-bolt scar running through his left eye.
The world's most wanted criminal. Master of Beehive Island. Captain of the Rocks Pirates. The man who'd beaten a Marine Admiral alone.
Rocks D. Xebec.
"Anus! It's been a while!"
"Unexpected visit." Anus looked at him evenly. "We saw each other a few days ago, didn't we?"
Shiki had just come by yesterday talking about breaking away. Now the man himself shows up today. It was hard not to wonder if there was a connection.
"Business handled? What do you want?"
"You're so cold, Anus, come on—"
"Get to it."
"Wahahaha! Straight to the point — that's what I always liked about you!"
Rocks didn't seem bothered in the slightest. He dropped into a seat like he owned the place.
"Alright, no beating around the bush. Anus — I want you to come with me to take down Harald."