This sea region was known as the Water Gold Sea, named after its two largest islands Water Island and Gold Island.
Gold Island stood as the largest, vast enough to sustain an entire nation. Water Island followed closely behind, its scale sitting between a medium and large island, yet still expansive enough to host a thriving and dangerous population.
Ghost Hand Rowan and Nico Robin stepped onto the island and walked steadily down its streets.
The atmosphere was bleak.
Oppressive.
Every corner of the street carried a sense of latent violence. Pedestrians moved with guarded caution, while beggars crouched in shadowed alleys, their eyes sharp and predatory. Compared to the relatively structured order of places like the Flower Country, this island was pure chaos incarnate.
Law did not exist here.
Only power did.
Numerous underground forces from across the West Blue maintained control over the island. The Capone Family had once been among the dominant factions, but after being crushed by Rowan, their influence had collapsed, and they had long since withdrawn from this region.
Bang!
A gunshot shattered the air.
Instantly, countless heads turned not in panic, but with wary indifference.
Ahead, a thin man casually blew smoke from the barrel of his pistol, sneering as a burly figure collapsed lifeless into a pool of blood. Without a second glance, he turned and walked away.
No one intervened.
No one cared.
"…A fitting place for rot to gather."
Rowan's voice was calm, almost indifferent.
Both he and Robin had long since grown accustomed to the cruelty of the underworld. Scenes like this stirred no reaction.
They continued forward until they reached a more crowded district.
Rowan paused, scanning the surroundings.
"Let's split up," he said. "Gather what we can. Meet back here in half an hour."
Robin adjusted the brim of her hat slightly and nodded.
"Understood."
Though she did not train as obsessively as Rowan, her mastery of the Hana Hana no Mi had advanced significantly under his occasional guidance. Against opponents in the twenty to thirty million range, she could now fight with confidence and her abilities rendered numbers meaningless.
They separated.
After a short walk, Rowan spotted a tavern.
Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The interior was dim, filled with low murmurs and the scent of alcohol. He approached the counter, ordered a drink, and spoke casually:
"I heard the Two-Sword Pirates were in town recently."
"Shh!"
The barmaid stiffened immediately.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed talking like that?"
Rowan smiled faintly and placed two gold coins on the counter.
"I'm just curious."
Her eyes flickered.
A drink here cost no more than a silver coin.
Two gold coins…
Her caution wavered.
With a quick glance around, she discreetly pocketed the money and leaned closer.
"They were here two days ago," she whispered. "Started a fight before they left. Dozens dead. Took hours to clear the bodies."
Her voice lowered further.
"They're monsters. Word is… they wiped out a Marine branch fleet."
She paused, studying Rowan's partially shadowed face beneath his hat.
"They're recruiting now. West Coast. Only strong fighters get considered."
A faint trace of curiosity entered her gaze.
"You're not thinking of joining them, are you?"
"West Coast, hm… thanks."
Rowan took a sip of his drink before standing.
"As for joining them…"
He glanced at her, a faint smile forming.
"That depends on whether they're worth it."
With that, he turned and walked out.
The barmaid stared after him.
Something felt… off.
Her breath caught suddenly.
She scrambled to grab a stack of bounty posters nearby, flipping through them frantically.
Then
She froze.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Bounty: 92,000,000 Berries
Ghost Hand Rowan
A chill ran down her spine.
"What kind of storm… is blowing into this island…?"
In the West Blue, two names now stood above all others:
The Ghost Hand Pirates.
And the Two-Sword Pirates.
If those two forces collided
It would shake the entire sea.
Meeting Point
Rowan arrived early.
Moments later, Robin returned from another direction.
"The Two-Sword Pirates are recruiting near the West Coast," she said quietly. "They're building a fleet."
She paused.
"As for Lafitte… he was seen on this island within the past few days."
Rowan raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Oh? So he's here as well."
A faint smile appeared.
"Perfect."
He tapped the table lightly.
"A man like him wouldn't ignore something this interesting."
Robin nodded.
"That was my conclusion as well."
Rowan adjusted his hat.
"Then we go straight to the West Coast."
Snap.
With a flick of his finger, Rowan pushed the brim of his hat upward.
His face was revealed.
In an instant
Everything changed.
From the shadows, multiple gazes locked onto him.
Then
Recognition.
Shock.
Fear.
"That's "
"Ghost Hand Rowan…!"
Whispers turned into hushed panic.
The oppressive street fell silent.
As Rowan and Robin walked forward, the crowd instinctively parted.
No one dared block their path.
No one dared meet his gaze.
Compared to the hidden threat of the Ghost Sword, who lurked behind the Two-Sword Pirates, Ghost Hand Rowan's name had carved itself into the West Blue through sheer violence and dominance.
His reputation was immediate.
Visible.
Terrifying.
As Rowan advanced toward the West Coast, word spread rapidly.
"He's heading west!"
"To the Two-Sword Pirates…!"
The realization sent ripples through the island.
No one believed he was going to join them.
There was only one conclusion.
"He's hunting them…"
Murmurs grew louder.
"If they fight… who wins?"
"One crushed a Marine Headquarters Rear Admiral…"
"The other survived the Grand Line…"
Arguments broke out in hushed tones.
"Ghost Hand Rowan has the edge," one man muttered. "A Headquarters Rear Admiral isn't comparable to branch forces."
Another shook his head.
"Ghost Sword had a 98 million bounty three years ago. And he survived the Grand Line. That's not something you underestimate."
The Grand Line
The graveyard of pirates.
To enter it, survive it, and return…
That alone spoke volumes.
As Rowan neared the West Coast
Even the underground factions controlling the island were shaken.
Information spread like wildfire.
Eyes turned.
Attention sharpened.
For a brief moment
The entire island held its breath.
Because everyone understood one thing:
The spotlight had shifted.
And at its center
Was Ghost Hand Rowan.