Vice-captain of Whitebeard pirates

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A week after the battle between the Whitebeard Pirates and the Navy, the world was shaken by two bounty announcements.

On an unknown island somewhere in the New World,

"Roger, something big has happened."

Roger, who was enjoying a banquet with his friends, turned to see a blond man walking toward him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Rayleigh took the two bounty notices and said, "See for yourself."

Curious, Roger took the bounty papers and couldn't help but laugh. "Hahaha, I knew this guy couldn't stand loneliness. A bounty of 1.5 billion beli is almost higher than mine! At this rate, we'll be meeting in the New World soon."

Rayleigh replied, "Look at the picture below again."

"hmm?"

Roger noticed the seriousness in Rayleigh's tone; his old friend rarely spoke so earnestly.

He took out the second bounty notice and asked, "Larson? Who is this person? He has a bounty of 1 billion beli."

Rayleigh pulled out a newspaper and said, "This is what I just intercepted. Take a look."

Roger took the newspaper, which prominently featured the faces of Larson and Whitebeard. The headline read: The Whitebeard Pirates intercepted the celestial gold, and the Navy sent admirals to encircle and suppress them. The outcome is unknown.

"He actually intercepted gold from the celestial dragons. This guy is quite capable," Roger remarked with a smile.

Roger understood that the outcome was uncertain, but the absence of news about Whitebeard's arrest indicated that the Navy must have lost the battle.

Rayleigh explained, "Whitebeard founded a pirate group known as the Whitebeard Pirates. Larson is the vice-captain of that crew. The exact number of crew members on the ship is currently unknown."

"This guy formed his own pirate crew!"

The two bounty notices and the newspaper were casually tossed aside by Roger. He laughed, raised his glass, and shouted to his companions: "Let's celebrate our brothers together!"

"Oh!"

Although everyone didn't fully understand what was happening, they eagerly joined in with their captain.

Soon, joyous laughter erupted from the island.

After celebrating for a while, most of the crew fell asleep at night. Roger quietly approached Rayleigh: "Rayleigh, Rayleigh."

Being woken from deep slumber left Rayleigh feeling a bit irritable. "What's wrong?"

Roger was like a child seized by a whim: "I don't know how long it will take for that guy with the white beard to come to the New World. Why don't we go back and find him?"

"What?" Rayleigh thought he had misheard.

"How's it going?" Roger looked at Rayleigh expectantly.

Rayleigh sighed, "Do you know how long a round trip takes?"

He felt helpless; his captain was now a famous pirate, yet he still behaved with the impulsiveness of a child.

Roger smiled brightly. "It doesn't matter. The best thing we can do is use more ships. That guy will be thrilled to see us. What do you say, Rayleigh?"

"Yes, yes!"

Rayleigh sighed again. "Who made you the captain?"

"Hey-hey."

Roger radiated childlike joy.

Meanwhile, the two bounty orders and the newspaper had quietly spread to all corners of the world, and the names of Larson and the Whitebeard Pirates began to echo with increasing recognition.

Ten days after the battle with the Navy ended...

"Today's training: swim ten and a half laps around the ship, capture a Sea King, and spar with Marco for 10 minutes."

As Larson's strength improved, the training regimens assigned to him by the system became increasingly outrageous.

Having just completed ten laps around the boat, Larson clutched a steel fork and dove into the sea without pausing for a break, his grip on the steel fork reminiscent of someone harvesting melons with a pitchfork.

On the pirate ship, Marco was lifting Larson's exclusive dumbbells. After training rigorously for several days, his arms revealed the faint beginnings of muscle definition.

Marco set down the dumbbells and wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's really strange. Larson is so strong, yet he still trains relentlessly every day."

As he spoke, he stole a glance at Whitebeard, who was drinking nearby, as if comparing Larson to his father.

Whitebeard chuckled and scolded, "You brat, where are you looking?"

Marco quickly replied, "I just want to know how pops trained to become so strong."

After pondering Marco's question, Whitebeard took a moment. How did he get so strong?

It seemed he hadn't undertaken much formal training. His current strength was largely the result of numerous battles fought over time. The more he walked along the edge of life and death, the stronger he became.

Fighting was often the best form of training.

The world could be unfair; sometimes, no amount of hard work could yield the benefits of another person's Devil Fruit power.

Although Whitebeard didn't heavily rely on his Devil Fruit, his formidable physique was even more terrifying than any fruit.

Whitebeard didn't want to undermine his son's confidence, so he tactfully said, "Everyone's strength comes from training, and that includes me."

Marco was skeptical. "Then pops, why don't you train anymore?"

Whitebeard grinned and replied, "There's no pleasure in training like there is in drinking. Now I can grow stronger just by drinking."

Marco's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?"

Of course, it was nonsense, but how could Whitebeard admit it?

He laughed heartily. "Of course! If you don't believe me, give it a try."

With that, he retrieved a bucket of wine and began openly encouraging the boys to drink.

Marco didn't need to be told twice. He poured himself a glass and gulped it down.

Whitebeard asked, "How does it taste?"

Marco licked his tongue. "I think I feel something."

"Drink again."

Marco poured another glass and swallowed it in one go.

Whitebeard tried to stifle his laughter. "How's it feel this time?"

Marco was already beginning to feel a little fuzzy. "It feels like something's rising up."

Just then, Plank emerged from the kitchen. "Where's Marco? Hey, why aren't you training? Why are you drinking?"

Marco burped loudly. "What do you know? This is my new exercise regimen!"

Plank sighed helplessly. "If Larson finds out you're slacking, you'll be in serious trouble."

At that moment, a massive shadow loomed over the water.

A gigantic Sea King then surfaced, revealing its tail.

Larson leaped out of the water, shaking droplets from his head. "Where's Plank?"

"I'm here!"

Plank rushed over.

Larson pointed to the Sea King in the water. "This is today's food."

"Got it," Plank replied.

Larson was about to head back and change into dry clothes when he suddenly spotted Marco holding a wine glass nearby.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Have you finished today's training?"

"N-No!" Marco stammered, guilt evident in his tone.

Larson smirked. "Alright, then I'll be your sparring partner."

Marco nearly dropped his wine glass in shock at the sudden turn of events.

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