The days in the New World moved differently.
Out here, the sea wasn't just water — it was alive. It whispered in the dead of night, roared without warning, and birthed monsters from its depths like it was daring you to keep going. The skies twisted on a whim. Storms came and went like moods, and danger wasn't a possibility, it was the baseline.
But for Black Rose Lupin, it wasn't the New World's chaos that got under his skin.
It was the people.
The Whitebeard Pirates weren't just a crew. They were living legends, men and women whose names were already carved into history while most pirates were still learning how to hold a sword. If Lupin wanted to survive here — hell, if he wanted to matter here — Whitebeard's approval wouldn't be enough.
He needed their respect.
And of course, the system didn't waste any time.
[New Monthly Quest Issued]
Objective: Earn the respect of all Whitebeard Division Commanders.
Time Limit: 30 Days
Reward: 1 Creation Point, 1 Mystery Chest
Failure Penalty: System Lock for 1 Year
"Tch… figures," Lupin muttered, a crooked grin creeping across his face. "No side quests either, huh? Fine. Straight to business."
First on the list: Izo.
Commander of the 16th Division, a man with poise and presence you didn't need haki to feel. Twin flintlocks at his sides, hair and kimono perfectly styled, standing out like a noble among wolves. It wasn't going to be easy.
But nothing worth chasing ever was.
Day One
The crew's main deck felt like a rowdy tavern by noon. Long tables heaped with food, bottles clinking, voices rising with stories about treasure hauls and near-death escapes.
Lupin kept close, but not too close. Found a spot within earshot of Izo without forcing it. He joined a few conversations here and there, laughed when it made sense, but mostly listened. Marksmanship came up once — Izo made a sharp comment about lazy aim and poor form. Lupin filed it away.
Later, when sparring started on the deck, Lupin signed up for pistol drills. No Devil Fruit tricks, just him and his sidearm. Bottles lined up along the railing, and one by one, he shattered them clean.
He felt Izo's gaze on him once.
That night, without a word, he left a bottle of high-grade sake near Izo's table. No note. No explanation. Just a quiet gesture.
Small steps.
Day Two
The next morning rolled in foggy and damp, but Lupin was already up. He tagged along with a small scouting party hitting a nearby cove. Some rookie pirates with big mouths thought they could test Whitebeard's flag.
Bad idea.
Lupin fought clean, quick, efficient. No wasted movement. A bullet to the wrist here, a shot to the knee there. By the time they made it back, a few of the boys clapped him on the shoulder.
Izo gave him a nod.
Later, while the crew cleaned their weapons, Lupin wandered over, made a comment about the balance of older flintlocks versus modern pieces. Izo glanced up, surprised he wasn't bragging or asking for a duel.
"Most think a gun's strength is in the shot," Izo said, softly, polishing his weapon. "But it's in the hand and the mind behind it."
Lupin smirked. "A weapon's just a reflection of its wielder."
For a moment, Izo said nothing. Then a flicker of approval crossed his face.
That evening, as the sun bled into the horizon and the crew gathered for drinks, Izo approached. No speech, no fuss — just held out a sake cup.
"I've seen how you carry yourself," he said. "How you fight… how you talk about family."
Lupin took the cup, clinked it against Izo's. "Loyalty's everything."
Izo gave a small, crooked smile. "You might just fit in here."
[Commander Bond Formed: Izo]
Progress: 1/16
Two days well spent.
Day Three
No time to rest. His next target was Fosha — commander of the 15th Division, a giant of a man with a booming laugh and a sword as big as a mast. The kind of guy who respected fists and fearlessness more than polite conversation.
Lupin knew exactly how to play this one.
He found Fosha in the training ring, battering a poor bastard across the deck in a friendly "spar." Laughter and cheers filled the air.
"Oi, Fosha!" Lupin called out, cutting through the noise.
Fosha turned, grinning. "You need something, rookie?"
"I want a match."
A hush fell over the ring. Even the waves seemed to quiet.
Fosha's grin stretched wider. "You've got guts. Hope you've got more than that."
The rules were simple: no Devil Fruits. Weapons only. Fosha with his curved blade, Lupin with his pistol.
The circle tightened.
Fosha came in fast for his size. The blade a blur, aiming to take Lupin's head clean off. Lupin ducked it, fired a round that skimmed Fosha's shoulder — not a kill shot, but enough to turn heads.
"Quick little bastard," Fosha chuckled, swinging again.
Lupin rolled aside, came up on one knee, and fired. This one knocked Fosha's sword from his grip.
For a beat, no one spoke.
Then, Fosha's laughter boomed through the air. He strode forward, slapped a heavy hand on Lupin's shoulder hard enough to stagger him.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he roared. "Skill and stones! You'll go far, Black Rose."
[Commander Bond Formed: Fosha]
Progress: 2/16
The ring erupted. Ale flowed. Backs were slapped. Names were shouted.
Lupin had done it. Not just another hired hand, not just Whitebeard's charity case — one of them.
That Night
The bonfire burned high. Music spilled into the night. Lupin nursed a drink, sitting at the edge of the gathering, watching the black water shift in the distance.
Two down.
Fourteen to go.
He knew it wouldn't get easier. Some would test his strength. Others would test his will. A few might refuse him outright.
And that was fine.
He wasn't here for an easy life.
He was here to build a legend — one bond, one battle, one name at a time.
And for the first time since stepping aboard the Moby Dick, Lupin raised his cup with the others, knowing he wasn't just a stranger anymore.
He was one of them.
Tomorrow, another name. Another challenge.
And he wouldn't stop until the whole damn list was checked off.