Chapter 23: The first mate’s perspective

The sun dipped low over the Shadowed Cliffs, casting long shadows across the fortress. Ben Beckman leaned against the balcony railing outside his chambers, a cigar resting between his fingers. The soft breeze carried the faint scent of salt and earth from the cliffs below, but Beckman wasn't paying attention to the scenery.

His sharp eyes were fixed on the peerage members training in the courtyard below. Even from this distance, their sheer power was unmistakable.

"Damn," he muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke. "This group could topple empires. No wonder the kid's got half the underworld scared of him already."

Reflections on the Peerage

Beckman had been around long enough to recognize strength when he saw it, and Raizer's peerage was overflowing with it. Each member was a titan in their own right, and the way they worked together—most of the time, at least—was nothing short of miraculous.

He began mentally running through the roster, evaluating each member's power and personality.

Garp

"Old man Garp," Beckman thought with a smirk. "If raw power was all that mattered, he'd be king of the world by now."

Garp was a living legend, even in this new world. His punches could level mountains, and his sheer willpower was enough to make most opponents think twice. But what impressed Beckman the most was Garp's stamina.

"He's been training troops all day," Beckman muttered, watching Garp bark orders at a group of recruits below. "And he'll probably still be throwing punches until midnight. Guy's a monster."

Still, Garp's unpredictable personality was both a strength and a liability. His love for a good fight sometimes outweighed his common sense, but his loyalty to Raizer was absolute.

Whitebeard

"Whitebeard, the old man with the world in his hands," Beckman thought, watching the towering figure stride through the courtyard.

Even now, Whitebeard's presence was enough to command respect. The way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to see straight through you—it was no wonder he'd been called the Strongest Man in the World.

"And that damn quake power of his," Beckman muttered, taking another drag from his cigar. "If he let loose, there wouldn't be much left of this fortress."

But unlike Garp, Whitebeard had a calming presence. He was the kind of man who could anchor the chaos around him, keeping the peerage grounded even in the face of disaster.

Gol D. Roger

Beckman chuckled to himself as his eyes landed on Roger, who was busy sparring with Mihawk.

"Roger's… well, Roger," Beckman thought. "Reckless, loud, and probably the most fun guy in the room."

Roger's unpredictability made him both a joy and a headache to deal with. He fought like a storm—wild, unrelenting, and impossible to contain. But what truly set Roger apart was his spirit.

"Even now, you can tell he's having the time of his life," Beckman mused. "He's like a kid who never grew up. And honestly? That's not a bad thing."

Sengoku

"Sengoku, on the other hand, is all business," Beckman thought, watching the former Fleet Admiral oversee a training session with a clipboard in hand.

Sengoku was the strategist, the one who could see ten steps ahead. His golden Buddha form was a testament to his power, but it was his mind that Beckman respected most.

"Someone's gotta keep Garp and Roger in line," Beckman thought with a smirk. "And Sengoku's probably the only one who can do it without losing his mind."

The Admirals

The admirals—Akainu, Kuzan, Fujitora, and Greenbull—were a league of their own. Each brought something unique to the table, and their combined presence was enough to make even the most powerful devils think twice before challenging the Shadowed Cliffs.

Akainu was pure intensity. His belief in justice and order translated into relentless determination in battle. Beckman respected his unwavering discipline, but it came with a downside.

"He's like a magma volcano waiting to erupt," Beckman thought, watching Akainu pace the courtyard, molten droplets falling from his fists and sizzling against the ground. "Good thing he's on our side. If he ever went rogue, the cleanup would be a nightmare."

In stark contrast, Kuzan exuded an almost infuriating calmness. Where Akainu burned, Kuzan froze—literally and figuratively. He was lounging against a tree on the edge of the training field, casually flipping a chunk of ice in his hand.

"Kuzan's the kind of guy who'll nap through a war and wake up just in time to win it," Beckman mused. "Cool under pressure, sharp as hell, but you can never tell what he's really thinking."

Fujitora was perhaps the most grounded of the admirals. His gravity powers were as overwhelming as they were elegant, but it was his moral compass that stood out to Beckman.

"He fights with a purpose," Beckman thought. "Doesn't waste energy on grudges or posturing. If more people fought like him, maybe the world wouldn't need so many wars."

Then there was Greenbull, the wildcard of the group. His nature-based powers were as chaotic as his personality. Beckman watched him summon a tangle of vines to trap a group of recruits, laughing as they struggled to free themselves.

"He's cocky, but he backs it up," Beckman thought. "I just wish he'd take things a little more seriously. He's got potential to be even scarier than Akainu if he ever channels that energy the right way."

Shiki: The Mad Genius

Then there was Shiki, the Golden Lion. Beckman chuckled as he watched Shiki float lazily in the air, directing a few recruits to practice evasive maneuvers against his gravity-controlled rocks.

"Shiki's the kind of guy you either love or hate," Beckman thought. "Lucky for us, he seems to like being here."

Shiki's powers were as unpredictable as his personality. His ability to manipulate gravity made him an absolute nightmare to fight, and his cocky attitude only added to his mystique.

"He's like the crazy uncle at a family gathering," Beckman mused, "always stirring the pot, but deep down, he cares. Probably."

Mihawk: The Silent Edge

Mihawk, as usual, was quiet and focused, his sharp gaze fixed on his sparring match with Roger. His movements were precise, each strike calculated and deliberate. Even when Roger threw in his usual chaotic flair, Mihawk didn't falter.

"He's the polar opposite of Roger," Beckman thought, watching the two clash. "No wasted effort, no unnecessary moves. Everything he does is razor-sharp—literally."

Mihawk wasn't just a swordsman; he was a master craftsman of battle. His detached demeanor could be intimidating, but it also meant he was the kind of person you could always count on to deliver in a fight.

"That guy's the ultimate insurance policy," Beckman mused, taking another drag from his cigar. "If anyone ever manages to get past the rest of us, Mihawk will make sure they regret it."

Yubelluna: The Strategist

Beckman's gaze drifted to Yubelluna, who stood on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, overseeing troop formations. Her violet eyes flicked between recruits with the precision of someone who missed nothing.

"She's the glue that holds this place together," Beckman thought. "Without her, the kid would drown in paperwork and logistics."

Yubelluna wasn't a powerhouse like the rest of the peerage, but her strategic mind made her just as important. She had a knack for seeing the bigger picture, anticipating problems before they arose, and keeping everyone on track.

"She might not fight on the front lines," Beckman mused, "but she's the reason the rest of us can."

Thoughts on Raizer

Beckman exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned further against the railing, his thoughts turning to Raizer Phoenix. The kid was still young by devil standards, but what he'd accomplished in such a short time was nothing short of remarkable.

"Kid's got guts," Beckman thought. "You don't build a peerage like this by playing it safe."

Raizer's ambition reminded Beckman of someone else—Shanks. Both men were calm, confident, and capable of rallying people to their side with little more than a few well-chosen words. But there were differences, too.

"Shanks is a free spirit," Beckman thought. "He doesn't care about ruling or building empires. Raizer, though? He's all about control. Everything he does is part of a bigger plan."

That focus was what made Raizer so effective as a leader, but it was also what worried Beckman the most.

"Kid's carrying a lot on his shoulders," he thought. "Too much, maybe. If he doesn't learn to let go every now and then, it could break him."

Still, Beckman couldn't deny that Raizer had built something extraordinary. The Shadowed Cliffs weren't just a fortress; they were a symbol of power, unity, and ambition. And Raizer's peerage?

"It's not just the strongest crew in this world," Beckman thought with a smirk. "It might be the strongest in any world."

The Strongest Crew

Beckman's thoughts drifted back to the people he'd sailed with in his old life. Shanks, Yasopp, Lucky Roux—they'd been a family, a crew bound by loyalty and friendship.

Raizer's peerage was different. It wasn't built on camaraderie so much as respect, power, and mutual goals. But in its own way, it was just as strong.

"This isn't a family," Beckman thought, watching the peerage members interact below. "It's a machine. And every piece of it is perfectly calibrated to crush anything in its way."

An Unexpected Visitor

As Beckman stood lost in thought, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning, he saw Raizer walking toward him, his usual composed expression giving little away.

"Enjoying the view?" Raizer asked, leaning on the railing beside Beckman.

Beckman smirked. "Not bad, kid. You've got one hell of a team down there."

Raizer's gaze followed Beckman's to the courtyard. "They're strong. Stronger than I ever imagined when I started."

"Strong doesn't even cover it," Beckman said, taking a drag from his cigar. "You've got a peerage full of powerhouses. If they wanted to, they could take down the Four Satans tomorrow."

Raizer chuckled softly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Beckman glanced at him. "You ever think about what happens if they don't stay in line?"

Raizer's expression grew serious. "Of course. Power like this is dangerous, even under the best circumstances. But I trust them. They've all got their quirks, but at the end of the day, they know what's at stake."

"And if they don't?" Beckman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Raizer's golden eyes gleamed. "Then I'll remind them."

For a moment, Beckman said nothing, studying the young devil. Finally, he nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"You're not just building an empire," Beckman said. "You're building a legacy. Just don't forget to enjoy it every now and then."

Raizer's lips curved into a small smile. "I'll try. No promises."

As Raizer turned and walked away, Beckman leaned back against the railing, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

"Kid's got what it takes," he muttered. "Let's just hope the rest of the world can keep up."

Conclusion

As the sun set over the Shadowed Cliffs, Ben Beckman remained on the balcony, watching the peerage train below. His sharp mind weighed every possibility, every strength and flaw, every risk and reward.

Raizer's peerage wasn't just strong—it was a force of nature. And in the hands of someone like Raizer, it had the potential to change the world.

"Strongest crew I've ever seen," Beckman thought, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And maybe, just maybe, the kid's crazy enough to make it work."

With that, he flicked his cigar into the wind and turned toward the fortress, ready for whatever came next.

This chapter offers Ben Beckman's perspective, blending his sharp insights with his casual and pragmatic personality. Let me know if there's anything else you'd like to expand or adjust!