"So, did you succeed?" Ian sat across from Garp on the Marine warship, Tashigi hovering nearby, ready to assist if needed.

She was also there to apologize for her pet behavior. despite its diminutive size, had managed to bite her, and she was currently nursing the wound, wincing slightly. She was curious about Garp's attempt to recruit Fire Fist Ace.

After all, Ace was his grandson. Perhaps he was a man of strong convictions, driven by his own sense of justice, just like Ian. It was clear she was unaware of the complex history between Garp and his family, her expression a mixture of curiosity and anticipation as she awaited his answer.

"I failed." Unsurprisingly, Ian received the expected response. Due to Ace's lineage, this mission was doomed from the start.

Expecting the son of Gol D. Roger to become a Warlord, or even a Marine, was ludicrous. It was akin to asking Itachi Uchiha to become Hokage.

Birth and reputation could indeed influence one's destiny, but in this world, strength could overcome such limitations. With enough power, one could achieve anything.

This was something his previous world had lacked. A life lived according to predetermined rules, where youthful recklessness was met with harsh consequences.

The beginning often dictated the ending.

Pain was a powerful teacher, silencing even the most boisterous voices.

"But you didn't need to stay away for so long, did you?" Ian continued, drawing a black, swirling pattern in the air with his right hand. A Garganta, a portal to Hueco Mundo, opened, revealing a bottle of fine wine and two glasses. He filled them to the brim.

Marine regulations strictly forbade alcohol consumption, fearing it would impair judgment and compromise their duties.

Thus, no alcohol was readily available. However, such rules didn't apply to him or Garp. Their strength transcended such petty restrictions.

"Haha! That ability is really something. Being able to carry anything you want… Makes me want to find a Spatial-type Devil Fruit myself!"

Garp bellowed with laughter, relieved that Ian hadn't dwelled on the matter of Ace. He picked up his glass and drained it in a single gulp.

"But you can't show any weakness to your enemies at sea. And I don't need to rely on any Devil Fruit tricks. These fists are all I need."

Ian smiled without replying. The curse of the Devil Fruit didn't apply to him.

He sensed a wave of loneliness, sadness, and resignation emanating from Garp, despite the old man's jovial facade. He masked his emotions well, never letting them show outwardly.

But before Ian's soul-sensing perception, such facades crumbled, revealing the turmoil within. Even Observation Haki, with enough training, could perceive emotions. After all, Garp, like Zephyr, had endured a lifetime of tragedy, his story mirroring that of Jiraiya in the Naruto universe and Makarov Dreyar in Fairy Tail.

His family had chosen paths that opposed his own, and he was ultimately betrayed and killed by his own student, his life dedicated to justice ending in a watery grave.

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"So, I went to recruit Kid. His Magnet-Magnet Fruit has similar potential to Shiki's Float-Float Fruit. But the little Kid ran off the moment he saw me, yelling about becoming the Pirate King. He's even more obsessed with the title than my grandson, Luffy!"

"So, I took a little detour to East Blue and gave him a dose of my love-filled iron fists. But I still couldn't change his mind. Poor me, a Marine hero, raising three criminal descendants!"

"Garp-san…" Tashigi's expression softened, her heart filled with sympathy for the old man. Pirates might not deserve pity, but family was different.

"Ace, you damn fool! Why didn't you listen to me…? Now… tell me, what am I supposed to do?" These were the words Garp had cried out during the Marineford War, his heart breaking as he watched his grandson face certain death.

The burden of justice was too heavy. His two grandsons were dying before his eyes, and he was powerless to intervene, held back by his duty and his friendship with Sengoku. Even though they had chosen their own paths, the pain was unbearable.

It was also somewhat ironic. When someone refused his offer to become a Warlord, he resorted to punching his own grandson. What peculiar logic. Such capriciousness.

Kid, Luffy, and Law. Shiki, Roger, and Whitebeard. The new generation's three great pirate titans.

Similar beliefs, similar abilities, similar personalities.

"So, you came back empty-handed?"

Ian continued refilling Garp's glass, having not yet taken a sip himself. It seemed he would have to find someone else to fill the vacant Warlord position.

"No, I found someone. And he's quite a prominent figure." A sly smile spread across Garp's face.

"Oh?" Ian raised an eyebrow. Based on the current timeline, there weren't many powerful pirates with high bounties, aside from the already established figures and the Supernovas.

The Worst Generation wasn't defined by age but by the year they arrived at Sabaody Archipelago and entered the Grand Line.

Eleven pirates had earned that title in Luffy's year, ranging in age from their late teens to their forties. Most of them, like the Straw Hats, were under twenty, their bounties high enough to warrant a venture into the New World.

However, their bounties were mostly in the hundreds of millions, indicating a plateau in their strength. Further advancement would be difficult.

Unless it was Law, whose Ope-Ope Fruit was worth 5 billion berries, the equivalent of fifty warships or Pacifistas. But wasn't he operating in the North Blue? Why would Garp travel to East Blue otherwise?

Although Law would later become a Warlord, his current bounty was likely in the tens of millions, perhaps just exceeding 100 million. He wasn't quite ready yet.

Whoosh! Ian closed his eyes, his soul-sensing perception sweeping across the entire warship. He wasn't one for drawn-out reveals. He preferred to uncover the truth directly.

Why waste time with elaborate plans and discussions when you could simply overwhelm your opponent with brute force?

If you lacked the confidence to do so, you might as well surrender. Fighting would be futile.

"It's him?" In an instant, Ian located the individual in the mess hall. A smile played on his lips. This man was blessed by fortune, his background truly remarkable.

He was dressed in full clown regalia, a white skull painted on his forehead, two blue lines drawn diagonally across his eyes, blue hair, and a red nose.

He wore a red and white long-sleeved shirt, a purple scarf around his neck, white gloves, blue pants, and clown shoes.

Beside him stood a figure with a doll's head covering his own – his hair styled in a bizarre fashion – clad in furry clothing and clawed boots.

A third figure, his hair covering his left eye, wore a scarf and a cape. These were his crewmates.

A lion tamer and a juggler.

His role was to provide comic relief.

A white lion rested its head on his lap. It seemed that three years ago, his crew hadn't fully assembled yet. He was currently enjoying a free meal in the mess hall, brazenly demanding alcohol and the finest dishes.

The Marine chefs glared at him, their teeth gritted in frustration. While they were unaware of his true strength, they assumed he must be a formidable figure to be considered for a Warlord position..

this clown's captain was from a previous era, his close friend one of the current rulers of the New World. His identity was unmistakable.

A former apprentice on Gol D. Roger's ship, a close friend of Red-Haired Shanks.

Buggy the Star Clown….