One Piece: Starting with the execution of Pirate King Roger

In the pan, fresh, top-quality sea animal meat is sizzling and crackling, the rich aroma of butter and black pepper mingling together, making one's mouth water.

Gion sat at the bar in the open kitchen, swirling a half-empty glass of red wine in her hand, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes somewhat dazed as she gazed at the busy figure from behind.

"This is unbelievable..."

Gion sighed softly, her tone tinged with a hint of teasing:

“The soldiers outside are like mice before a cat when they see you. They're all saying you're a ‘bloodthirsty devil’ and a ‘cold-blooded tyrant.’ Who would have thought that this devil is now agonizing over how well-done his steak is?”

"Zi-"

Ryan placed the seared steak on a plate, carefully arranged blanched asparagus and carrots on top, and then presented it to Gion.

"Medium-rare is your favorite."

Raine took off his apron, washed his hands, poured himself a glass of wine, and sat down opposite Gion.

Even the devil needs to eat.

Ryan cut off a piece of meat and put it in his mouth, a satisfied expression on his face:

"Killing pirates is a job, but enjoying life... that's an attitude."

He raised his glass and looked at Gion through the liquid inside:

"I finally became the top leader, and now that no one is watching me, if I still live a miserable life, then what's the point of being an official?"

"Fallacy."

Gion rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn't hide the smile on her lips.

The two clinked glasses.

"Ding--"

The crisp sound of glass clashing echoed in the quiet room.

Outside the window lay a cold, steel fortress, a cruel sea, and ferocious beasts ready to devour anyone at any moment.

But inside, there was delicious food, fine wine, and a rare tranquility.

What is the name of that island in Chapter 108?

A week is both a short and a long time for the G-17 branch.

The harbor was shrouded in sea fog at dawn.

A patrol boat slowly approached the shore, accompanied by the heavy clanging of chains and the slightly hurried footsteps as a stretcher was placed on the ground.

"Hey! Hurry up! There are three seriously injured people over here!"

"Damn it! Don't push! Get the medic over here first! If this guy dies now, the compensation paperwork will be a huge hassle!"

Chaos reigned on the deck. Several bodies covered with white sheets were the first to be carried off, the crimson blood seeping from beneath them starkly visible on the damp wooden planks.

The soldiers' shouts contained little reverence for life, but rather anxiety over the loss of assets. In their eyes, those lying on the stretchers no longer seemed to be their comrades-in-arms, but rather expensive checks waiting to be cashed.

Smoker stood on the pier, his face as black as the bottom of a pot, the two cigars in his mouth already deformed from being chewed.

"These idiots!!"

He watched the corpses being carried away, and finally couldn't hold back any longer, bursting into a tirade that echoed across the dock:

"How many times have I told you! Flank! Don't charge straight in under fire! Are your brains filled with mush?! You're willing to risk your lives for a few kills?!"

Faced with Smoker's roar, the soldiers who had just disembarked did not show much remorse.

Several lightly wounded soldiers were sitting on wooden crates nearby, having their wounds bandaged by medics while excitedly counting the spoils they had looted from the pirate ship.

"Oh dear, old Jack is really unlucky, he actually got hit in the neck by a stray bullet."

A soldier, a cigarette dangling from his lips, counted Pele's as he sighed, his tone devoid of sadness, instead carrying a gambler's indifference:

"But his death wasn't in vain. The pirate captain's bounty plus the base's compensation is enough for his wife and children to live in this house for the rest of their lives. It's a good deal..."

"Yes, we got quite a lot this time. With this money, I can pay off my debts back home."

Another soldier chimed in, his eyes gleaming with greed.

Spurred on by Ryan's simple and brutal bounty system, this group of "sheep" who were once afraid of their enemies quickly transformed into bloodthirsty "wolves" in just one week.

But this transformation is pathological.

They weren't fighting for justice, or even for survival; they were gambling with their lives purely for money. This reckless, thuggish fighting style did indeed wipe out many pirates, but their own casualty rate was also frighteningly high.

……

The base commander's office.

Ryan sat behind his large desk, holding a recent casualty statistics report.

"Twenty-three dead, forty-five seriously wounded..."

He read the two numbers out softly, his tone calm, revealing no emotion.

"Including what happened before, in just half a month, we've lost nearly a tenth of our personnel. Although the compensation money has been distributed, the rate at which it's being used up... is indeed a bit too fast."

Smoker sat on the opposite sofa, scratching his hair in frustration:

"These guys have absolutely no tactical awareness! They can be all high and mighty when they're winning, but as soon as they run into a tough opponent or need to coordinate, they immediately turn into complete chaos."

"If this continues, before I can train them into elite soldiers, they'll all die out."

Gion, who had been standing by the window watching the training ground below, turned around, holding a cup of coffee, her expression somewhat solemn.

"Raine, the current G-17 is like a bloated giant, it looks fierce but is actually weak inside. They need to settle down."

Ryan put down the report and tapped his fingers lightly on the table, making a rhythmic sound.

"You're right."

He nodded: "These soldiers have been rotten under Nelson for too long. Money and killing can only stimulate their nerves, not rebuild them."

"They need a real test."

Renn's gaze deepened, as if he were recalling something.

"Remember that desert island survival mission we had at the elite training camp? Since they can't learn to cooperate, let's create a desperate situation for them. Find a harsh environment teeming with wild beasts, confiscate their heavy weapons, and force out their survival instincts."

“That’s a good idea,” Smoker said, exhaling a smoke ring. “But are there any places like that around here?”

Ryan stood up, grabbed a casual jacket from the hanger, and tossed it to Smoker.

“Let’s go, Smoker. We can’t just sit in the office looking at maps if we’re looking for a place.”

A smile played on Ryan's lips:

"Let's try our luck where those old seals gather. Those guys who have spent their whole lives at sea have more stories in their heads than any nautical chart."

……

Golden Crown Island Port Area, a noisy tavern that caters specifically to foreign merchant ship sailors.

Although the fortress had been cleared of all traces of poverty by Nelson, resembling a paradise on earth, countless rough sailors, ship's men, and porters from all over the world still gathered on the edge of this bustling port with its huge throughput.

This is the only place on the entire island where "undignified" behavior is permitted, and it's also the most well-informed hub. The air is thick with the smell of cheap rum and low-quality tobacco from all over the world.

Ryan and Smoker, dressed in unassuming casual clothes, sat at a table in the corner.

Smoker looked at the group of drunken or noisy out-of-town sailors around him with disdain, pulling his hat brim down low. Ryan, on the other hand, seemed quite at ease. He casually beckoned a waiter, ordered two glasses of the strongest rum in town, and tossed him a gold coin.

"I want to ask about something."

Renn pointed to the gold coin spinning on the table, his voice not loud, but loud enough for the several people around him to hear:

"Are there any particularly dangerous islands in the surrounding waters that no one dares to go to normally, preferably those where wild beasts roam?"

"A dangerous island?"

An elderly navigator at the next table, his face weathered and wearing a faded sailor's uniform, heard this and his cloudy eyes instantly lit up.

Judging from his appearance, he must be a veteran from some merchant ship, taking advantage of a break from resupply to have a couple of drinks here.

He unceremoniously reached out and grabbed the gold coin, wiped it on his clothes, and chuckled.

"Young man, looking for excitement? Places like this are everywhere along the Grand Line."

“I don’t care about ordinary dangerous places.” Renn shook his head, his expression indifferent. “What I’m looking for is… a truly dangerous place, an absolute forbidden zone that even pirates dare not set foot in.”

The old navigator stared at Ryan for a moment, then grinned, revealing his missing teeth.

"Then you've come to the right person."

He picked up his glass, took a big gulp, burped, and his expression suddenly became somewhat mysterious. He lowered his voice and said:

"If we're talking about the most eerie place around here... we'd have to head southeast."

"That's almost the edge of the doldrums. There's supposedly a sea area that's shrouded in mist all year round."

"I only went there once when I was young, because of a storm."

As he recalled the memory, his hands trembled violently, spilling most of the rum from his glass, as if he were transported back to that terrifying moment:

“That’s not something that should exist in this world at all… I saw it with my own eyes, a strange bird with wingspan that blotted out the sky swooping down from the mist!”

He made an exaggerated gesture, his pupils contracting:

"What it was gripping in its claws... was a sea monster over ten meters long! It did it as easily as catching an worm! Immediately afterward, another giant dinosaur with fangs rushed out of the forest and bit off the strange bird's neck in one gulp..."

"There is endless slaughter and devouring there! The air is filled with the stench of blood, and the roars of wild beasts can shatter eardrums even from dozens of nautical miles away!"

The old man swallowed hard, his voice hoarse:

"Many people say it's a 'colosseum abandoned by the gods' because only the most ferocious and monstrous monsters can survive on that island."

"Some even say... that the islands there are alive, and that the plants on the islands are as ferocious as wild beasts."

"Giant birds? And dinosaurs?" Smoker frowned, clearly thinking the old man was talking nonsense. "Old man, are you drunk? This kind of story is only good for fooling children."

"I'm not drunk!!" The old navigator's face flushed red, and he slammed his fist on the table. "It's true! That's a cursed place!"

Upon hearing this, Ryan's smile deepened.

"Dinosaurs, giant monstrous birds, ferocious plants..."

He stood up, patted the old sea dog on the shoulder, and casually produced two more gold coins:

"Thank you, sir. Your story is very valuable, I really like it."

……

Half an hour later, in the base commander's office.

Colonel Moore came running in, panting, holding an unfinished document in his hand. He saluted before he could even stand properly.

"Base Commander! You wanted to see me?"

"Moore".

Ryan sat in his chair, wiping his fine knife, and asked without looking up:

"Is there a famous island in the southeast, on the edge of the doldrums?"

Moore was stunned for a moment, then his face turned pale instantly.

"How...how do you know about that godforsaken place?"

Moore wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his voice trembling slightly, clearly indicating that the place held immense power in the local legends:

"There is indeed such a place... on the edge of the doldrums. The environment is extremely harsh, and the magnetic field is chaotic. It is said that countless enormous and ferocious prehistoric beasts live on the island! Some daring pirates have gone in before, hoping to find some treasure... but no one has ever come out."

“Occasionally, a few empty ships would drift out with the ocean currents, covered in huge claw marks... That place is really eerie.”

"sounds good."

Renn sheathed his sword, a satisfied look on his face.

"This level of 'sparring' is perfect for our group of ignorant brats. Only in the face of real fear can they learn what discipline is."

He turned to look at Smoker and said with a smile:

"Alright, that's enough for now. Smoker, you're in charge of leading this training camp. Anyway, you're tough and a Logia-type, so you won't die even if you encounter a big beast."

“Me?” Smoker pointed at his own nose, looking annoyed. “And you? What are you doing?”

"I?"