Hundreds of years ago, a man became known as the "King of the Pirates", by doing the impossible, reaching the island of Raftel at the end of the Grand Line. While the name of this man has been lost to history, his legacy lived on.

A Golden Age of Piracy...

A Silver Age of Piracy...

The King of the Pirates, who hailed from the weakest of the four seas.

The names of the era became forgotten, as did many of the stories, but in these many years, wars have come and gone, technology lost and gained, but the legacy of the King would never disappear.

The world stands on the crux of a new age. Privateers roam the sea, free of the grips of the World Government and the Celestial Dragons. It is in these days, that one crew began to form, one who's adventures would shake the Grand Line and the world.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Advent yawned slightly as he stared into the light blue sky. He took a moment to ponder how he'd gotten here. His leg hung over a bench in a prison yard. He'd been arrested a week ago for attempting to steal a Marine ship. Were he not a Marine before that day, he was certain he'd have been put to the gallows instead.

"Should probably leave soon..." He mumbled to himself, rolling over on the hard wooden bench. Of course, he'd also been written off as a weakling. While he'd been on a crew on the Grand Line one from Marine Headquarters in Marineford, he'd often slacked off, trying to keep his head down and get constant demotions. All of this, of course, was to get shipped off to the sea where the King of the Pirates was born and set sail from. Advent wanted to explore that sea, to live and follow in the footsteps of that man.

"Hey, shithead," someone spoke. "This is my bench. Shove off."

Advent rolled back over with a groan. "Hmm?" He mumbled.