Chapter 1: The Succession of the Title (First Release)

A resounding epithet is standard issue for every great pirate, as well as the ultimate pursuit of seafaring outlaws. However, a pirate's moniker is typically derived from their individual strength and distinctive traits. For instance, Ace, as a user of the natural Flame-Flame Fruit, is known as "Fire Fist."

Therefore, the passing down of an epithet is a rare occurrence in the world of piracy.

Gaban looked in surprise at Mord, whose face was illuminated by the flickering firelight, and then glanced at Saul, who was hiding his face behind a newspaper. As an old-era veteran who had walked a long road side by side with Saul, Gaban understood all too well what Mord's gesture meant to Saul. It was not merely a legacy; it was not merely a rebirth.

"Everything was worth it, wasn't it?" Gaban was genuinely happy for Saul from the bottom of his heart.

The others could not help but look at Saul, awaiting his response.

Holding the newspaper to shield his face, Saul felt a surge of intense heat swell up within his chest, threatening to burst through his body. It was hard to put into words what kind of feeling this was. Was it a pounding heart? Or perhaps a myriad of conflicting emotions?

But none of that mattered anymore. Because it had all been worth it...

The restless heat churning in his chest suddenly rushed up to his eye sockets. Suppressing his emotions, Saul deliberately spoke in an offhand, nonchalant tone, "Isn't it just a moniker? If you want it, take it. It's no big deal."

"Then I won't be polite," Mord said with a smile.

Sunny looked at Saul, whose face was hidden behind the newspaper, and then at Mord, who wore a smile, before suddenly breaking into an understanding grin.

Seeing that Saul was clearly overjoyed yet insisted on putting on such a calm facade, Gaban didn't hesitate for a moment. He raised his hand and directly snatched the newspaper away from Saul's face.

Lacking the newspaper's cover, everyone instantly beheld Saul, whose face was streaming with old tears.

"Gaban, I'm going to kill you!"

Having his pathetic appearance exposed to so many people, Saul lost face completely. He sprang to his feet and began groping around blindly beside him. He failed to find his gun, but his hand brushed against a cane. Snatching up the cane, Saul lunged straight at Gaban's head.

Gaban sidestepped, dodging the incoming cane, and sneered, "If you want to cry, just cry. What's with all the pretense?"

"I'm going to beat you to death!"

Disregarding the tears still on his face, Saul raised his cane and charged at Gaban.

Gaban retreated backward, scoffing, "Can you even catch up?"

With an angry curse, Saul even unleashed the Moonwalk technique.

Gaban had no intention of standing his ground to wait for Saul; he turned and bolted. The two old men chased each other, vanishing from everyone's sight shortly after.

Out on the grassland beyond the dwelling area, Gaban abruptly halted. "Alright, that's far enough."

"..."

Saul slowly lowered his cane and plopped down onto the grass, tears streaming down his face as if they were utterly worthless. "Gaban, how is it that a guy of my age still has such an overactive tear duct?"

"Who the hell knows." Gaban sat down next to Saul, pulled out a pipe, lit it, and began to smoke.

Seeing this, Saul instinctively reached for his own body, only to grope empty air. He then remembered that his pipe was back at the dwelling. Helplessly, Saul could only gaze at the pipe dangling from Gaban's lips.

"Gaban, let me take a puff."

"Did you brush your teeth today?"

"I did," Saul said guiltily.

"Get lost!" Gaban scooted sideways, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

Saul let out a soft sigh and tilted his head back to gaze at the starry sky.

A moment later, still shedding tears, Saul laughed as he sighed, "I wonder where Rayleigh and the rest of them are. I really want to share my current joy with them."

Gaban exhaled a cloud of thick smoke and said calmly, "Once Mord makes a name for himself, it will naturally draw their attention."

"That's true." Saul was still smiling.

When the name of the "Ghost Gun" spread across the seas, how would those old friends react?

Gaban glanced sideways at Saul, who was smiling so happily. He knew that the old sniper, who had always quietly supported the crew from the shadows, actually cared a great deal about fame and glory. It was only to better fulfill his duties as a sniper supporting the team that he usually put on an indifferent front.

Things were different now, though...

............

Beside the bonfire.

"To think the old man would cry like that." Mord felt a trace of astonishment in his heart. Although he had been the one to initiate the idea, he hadn't expected Saul to react quite so intensely.

Sunny sat down beside Mord, gazing at the burning firewood, and smiled. "That's the first time I've ever seen Saul that happy."

"Is that so..." Mord, too, stared into the bonfire.

Not far away, remaining detached from the scene, Laffitte quietly sipped his sheep's milk wine. This wine carried a pungent yet milky flavor accompanied by a faint sweetness, possessing a rather distinctive character. While it wasn't quite to his taste, drinking it occasionally was not a bad experience.

Jaya was tending to the roasting sheep over the campfire, calculating the exact moment to add the seasonings. Ever since Mord and his group had arrived on the island, the number of sheep roaming freely in the ring-shaped valley had plummeted drastically. At this rate, the sheep in the valley would be completely eaten up in less than a year.

Bari hopped between Mord and Sunny, saying earnestly, "Big Sis, Boss, I want an epithet too."

"Shall I come up with one for you?" Mord looked at Bari, who had wedged himself between them.

"Sure!" Bari looked at Mord expectantly.

Mord pondered for a moment, then clapped his hands. "How about 'Dark Raven'?"

"Dark Raven? I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before." Sunny tilted her head slightly, racking her brains.

Bari's features scrunched up into a ball as he muttered to himself, "Hearing 'Dark Raven' immediately makes me think of a crow. Do I look like a crow?"

Seeing Sunny and Bari's reactions, Mord knew that name was a dead end. While feeling a tinge of regret, he thought of another name that had once flashed through his mind.

"If not that, let's go with 'White Weasel'. Keep it down-to-earth."

"The name 'White Weasel' is actually quite fitting." Looking at Bari's coat of white fur, Sunny couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"White Weasel it is, then. Much better than Dark Raven." Bari's scrunched-up features slowly relaxed. Whether it was because of the comparison with Dark Raven or not, upon hearing a name as unpretentious as White Weasel, he found himself able to accept it quite readily.

"The roast mutton is ready to eat!" Jaya's voice drifted over at that moment.

Leaving the matter of the epithet completely behind him, Bari was the first to charge toward Jaya.

Watching Bari's gluttonous display, Mord and Sunny exchanged a smile.

At Jaya's urging to eat while it was hot, the few of them started eating without waiting for Gaban and Saul to return.

After feasting for nearly an hour, a well-fed and satisfied Mord and Sunny lay flat on their backs on the ground, their eyes reflecting the brilliant starlight.

"Mord, when do you plan to set sail?"

"Once I've mastered the Moonwalk, I suppose. If I can't manage that, Saul probably won't let me out to sea anyway."

"True, the ability to preserve one's life is very important."

"Haha, I think so too."

There was a quiet lull for a moment.

After a long while, Sunny softly murmured, "Saul wants me to go and do what I truly want to do. So, after you set sail, I'm going to go find Koala and the others."

Mord turned his head to look at Sunny's profile and asked, "You've decided?"

"Mhm."

"That's great, then." Mord smiled. He knew Sunny's dream was to rescue as many slaves as possible, and joining the Revolutionary Army was clearly the best choice. As for the scar on Sunny's face, Mord now knew the reason behind it. It was a scar carved by Sunny's own mother with a small knife. As for the reason... it went without saying.

"Mord, what is your dream?"

"My dream, you ask..." Mord fell into contemplation. Regarding this question...