Before arriving at the Polaris Islands, Oboro and his companions abandoned the pirate ship and transferred to a small boat that would drift on the open sea while they waited for cargo and merchant ships to pass. This would allow them to board under false pretenses and disguise their true identities.
Given Oboro's arrival, Logue Town, located near the entrance to the Grand Line and known as a "famous tourist destination" in the East Blue, would undoubtedly be heavily fortified. His assessment proved to be correct. After paying a considerable sum, they managed to board a cargo ship and assume the roles of crew members.
Entering the waters surrounding the Polaris Islands, they often encountered large numbers of warships on patrol, their imposing silhouettes cutting through the waves with obvious purpose. The naval vessels moved in coordinated patterns, clearly searching for something or someone.
The Marines conducted routine inspections of their cargo ship, but having rehearsed their cover stories beforehand, the captain helped conceal their identities. Neither Oboro nor Dom aroused suspicion during the inspection.
While the matter of the God Slayer had become common knowledge across the seas, such momentous events remained far from the daily concerns of this small merchant fleet. As long as the financial incentives were sufficient, they were willing to "protect" their mysterious passengers.
The arrangement worked perfectly, as they were kept in the dark about Oboro's true identity.
Through these careful preparations, all three managed to reach Logue City as planned, despite the considerable obstacles.
"You seem rather nervous," Oboro observed as they walked through the streets of the city, taking in the prosperous and comfortable atmosphere that characterized this historic settlement.
Behind him, Dolan looked around with obvious caution, periodically wiping the cold sweat from his brow despite the pleasant weather.
"No, sir," Dolan replied, his eyes flickering as he forced an unconvincing smile.
At that moment, a squad of Marines approached them along the road. Dolan instinctively lowered his head, while Oboro and Dom remained calm.
After the Marine patrol passed without incident, Oboro spoke with casual indifference. "Are you afraid of the Marines?"
Logue Town's military preparedness was clearly formidable. The town's economic prosperity and civil order existed precisely because it served as one of the strongest naval bastions in the East Blue, guarding the crucial gateway to the Grand Line. Most East Blue pirates passed through here before entering the Grand Line, some for supplies, others attracted by the historical significance of the birthplace and execution site of Pirate King Roger.
Many pirates came here with the idea of making a "pilgrimage" to the place where the great era of piracy had begun.
However, during their journey, Oboro had observed few pirates openly operating within the city. Even those present remained in disguise, not daring to fly their flags or proclaim their criminal affiliations.
"My lord," Dolan began hesitantly, "there is a formidable individual among the marines stationed here. Logue Town is his territory. I'm told he was recently assigned to this post and hasn't been here long, but his fearsome reputation has already spread throughout the East Blue. Countless pirates have fallen into his hands, including some of the most prominent crews in these waters. Rumor has it that he's cold and ruthless, showing extraordinary cruelty to pirates. To people like us, he's the White Death incarnate. Since his arrival, small-time criminals like myself dare not venture near the Polaris Island routes, and many pirates have abandoned any thought of operating in Logue City."
"White Hunter Smoker," Oboro said the name with quiet certainty.
"Yes, that's him," Dolan confirmed, his surprise evident as he nodded.
"Act more naturally," Oboro advised. "The more frightened you appear, the easier it will be to arouse suspicion. Don't worry, they won't find any trace of our activities. Your pirate ship and former companions have vanished from the sea. We have transferred to a cargo ship and are now ordinary travelers. We won't be in Logue Town for long."
"Yes, sir," Dolan replied, though his face paled as certain memories surfaced.
Indeed, to erase all evidence of their passage, the bodies aboard that ship, along with the ship's wreckage, had been destroyed and consumed by Sea Kings under Oboro's direction.
"Stop! Are you outsiders who have just arrived on the island?" Several Marine officers approached and intercepted the three men, studying them with professional scrutiny.
"We've already registered," Dom replied coolly, his tone carrying a subtle threat.
"My apologies, but you'll need to fill out some additional paperwork for our records. Things have been a little... special lately," the lead soldier explained. Although he met Dom's intimidating gaze with obvious discomfort, he continued with his official duties.
Oboro accepted paper and pen without complaint, writing down his assumed identity with practiced ease.
"Zirconde?" the soldier read aloud, studying the mysterious figure whose face remained hidden behind a mask, revealing only the area above his eyes. "Where were you born?"
"The Kingdom of Goa," Oboro replied with calm authority.
"Which region specifically?"
"Windmill Village, below the Colubo Mountains."
"Windmill Village?" The soldier's recognition was immediate; he happened to have personal knowledge of Mount Colubo's existence within the Kingdom of Goa, having visited the area during a previous mission. This familiarity confirmed the accuracy of Oboro's claims.
The soldier proceeded to ask several additional questions about the geography and culture of the Kingdom of Goa. Oboro answered with impressive fluency, further establishing the credibility of his false identity.
Dolan, a native of East Blue, had no trouble with his documentation. He only had to make minor adjustments to his personal history.
After confirming that all three individuals appeared to be legitimate, the soldier glanced at Oboro's distinctive mask and seemed about to make an inquiry.
"Forgive us, but we have urgent business to attend to," Oboro interjected smoothly. "We must go."
"Ah, of course," the soldier replied, his train of thought interrupted. "Thank you for your cooperation."
Although he sensed that these three men were not to be trifled with, their exemplary cooperation during the investigation and the apparent authenticity of their documents had satisfied his requirements. There was no point in creating unnecessary friction with law-abiding citizens.
"Something unusual, not like normal people," commented a soldier as he watched Oboro's group leave.
"Look at that man's clothes," another remarked. "Perhaps he's a noble of the Kingdom of Goa. His speech and manner suggest refinement, not the behavior of an outlaw."
"Come on, stop staring and let's get on with our census," the squad leader ordered.
Having handled this minor crisis with characteristic composure, Oboro led his companions into the heart of Logue Town, a destination every visitor inevitably sought.
The town square.
The gallows where Roger met his end stood as a monument to history's most pivotal moment, its weathered wood pointing skyward like an accusing finger.
The square buzzed with activity, though the crowd remained manageable. This wasn't the most vibrant area of the city, that honor belonged to the harbor area with its numerous shops and commercial streets. The square was surrounded by government buildings that lacked any commercial atmosphere, creating an environment of solemn officialdom.
As they ventured deeper into Logue Town's historic district, Oboro could clearly observe the ancient architectural styles that surrounded them. The walls bore the accumulated marks of decades, creating an aura of historical significance that seemed to whisper of bygone eras.
"Is this the execution platform of Pirate King Roger?" Dom's voice carried an unusual emotion. "It was from here that the prelude to the great age of piracy began..."
Whether it was psychological or something deeper, Dom felt his heart stir with complex emotions. Most pirates had harbored pure dreams in their youth, when they first set sail, seeking adventure, hoping to see the vast world, yearning to prove their courage. But with experience and time, many, including himself, had become petty criminals.
Dreams and original intentions were long forgotten.
Now, standing in Logue City and gazing at the execution platform, he seemed to rediscover fragments of his lost idealism. He could see in his mind's eye the magnificent scene of that legendary figure kneeling on the platform and announcing his great treasure to the world...
Whoosh!
A sudden sound interrupted his reverie.
Dom snapped back to reality to see Oboro, hands still casually in his pockets, slowly approaching the execution platform. Then, knees bent, he launched himself upward with explosive force, leaping directly onto the historic structure in a single bound.
In an instant, he stood at the highest point of the entire square.
Oboro slowly crouched down and reached out a hand to stroke the weathered surface of the platform, as if trying to sense something beyond normal perception.
"The prelude to an era began from this very spot," he murmured, his fingers tracing the mottled, ancient marks carved into the wood's surface. "Though the soul is long gone, my heart still trembles inexplicably to be here."
His voice carried a note of genuine regret as he continued, "How I would have loved to meet you in person. What a pity that such an encounter proved impossible."
The touch of his fingertips on the platform seemed to create a link through time itself, connecting the present moment to that fateful day when the world had changed forever. On this simple wooden structure, the pirate king's final words had ignited dreams and ambitions that still burned in countless hearts across the seas.
Standing where Roger had smiled before his end, Oboro felt the weight of history and the burden of the path he had chosen. The God Slayer and the Pirate King, two figures who had dared to challenge the established order, separated by time but united in their refusal to bow to unjust authority.
In the shadow of Roger's legacy, Oboro's own legend continued to unfold, carrying the same revolutionary spirit that had once changed the world from this very platform.