On the edge of a verdant island covered with lush forests, an incongruous sight disrupted the natural landscape—a mining site carved into the greenery, surrounded by dense woodland.
Around the mine, rows of newly constructed buildings dotted the perimeter. Residents with distinctive pink feathers growing from their arms, dressed in gray jumpsuits, moved constantly between the mine shafts and structures. Though the existing housing clearly exceeded the population's needs, new construction continued unabated while other workers emerged from the mines carrying baskets filled with black stones.
Among these feathered-armed individuals patrolled armed guards wearing gas masks. While they didn't physically abuse the workers, they would bark orders whenever they spotted someone slacking off.
Adjacent to the mining operation stood a wooden dock, its surface still rough with splinters. More than a dozen warships were moored there, including several massive vessels constructed entirely of steel and painted black. Unlike traditional ships, these behemoths lacked masts, featuring instead rows of tall smokestacks that continuously belched black smoke skyward.
What made this island particularly eerie was its unnatural silence. No animal sounds could be heard—no birdsong, not even the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The black smoke from the steamships rose perfectly straight, undisturbed by any wind. This was because the island lay within the Calm Belt—a region still feared in this sail-dominated world as nearly impassable to humans.
However, the two greatest dangers of the Calm Belt—its windless waters and the presence of Sea Kings—had been overcome by William. Steam-powered vessels enabled free navigation through these waters, while sonic technology derived from Sea Train rail systems kept the massive sea monsters at bay.
Long before his final confrontation with "Golden Lion" Shiki, William had formulated a plan to draw the Marines into joint combat. During preparations, he had secretly transported personnel and resources to the Calm Belt using steamships, establishing a hidden base. After Shiki's defeat and the descent of Merveille, William had intensified these efforts, working relentlessly to relocate the island's inhabitants and critical resources to this secret location.
On the bow deck of one black steamship, Aramis removed his gas mask after completing an inspection of the village, exhaling deeply. "We're still critically understaffed. We don't even have enough people to operate these steamships properly."
"We're simply making use of what would otherwise be wasted," replied Dampier dispassionately from nearby.
During Shiki's rule over Merveille, most young residents had been forcibly conscripted to serve in his palace, leaving only the elderly and children struggling to survive in the villages. The population had already dwindled significantly. After Shiki's death and the island's catastrophic descent, many more lives were lost. In the end, barely a few hundred villagers remained.
William had transported all these survivors to the Calm Belt, effectively imprisoning them on this small island to work the mines. This served dual purposes: keeping their operation hidden and providing the survivors with structured activity. Neither William nor Dampier intended to expand the mining operation, which remained deliberately reliant on manual labor.
"How many new cases of illness have been reported?" Dampier asked, addressing the primary purpose of Aramis's inspection.
"Thirteen new cases—the numbers are rising again," Aramis replied, glancing back at the forest surrounding the mine. "The villagers claim it's because too much Daft Green has been transplanted here. Even younger people are falling ill with increasing frequency."
"Good," Dampier responded indifferently, displaying complete disregard for the Merveille natives' wellbeing.
Aramis hesitated, clearly wanting to say more. Dampier noticed his unease and, misinterpreting it as concern for the villagers, said, "Don't worry. Between Shiki's stockpiled medicines and what we've been producing under Dr. Indigo's supervision, we have more than enough to treat them."
"I'm not worried about them," Aramis sighed. "I'm worried about William. Sherlock is consumed with guilt. He's already returned to the East Blue to mobilize our allies and execute the plan. William is gambling with his life here. I fear something might go terribly wrong. Perhaps we shouldn't have provoked the Marines in the first place..."
"Have I ever told you my story?" Dampier asked abruptly.
Aramis blinked in surprise. "What?"
"When William became a noble in the Navia Kingdom and killed Andre, do you know what I said to him?"
"'Life is brief, but if lived in submission, it feels unbearably long,'" Aramis recited. "William shared that with me."
Dampier pressed his lips together, momentarily hesitant. As someone of exceptional intelligence, he understood that despite all their preparations, this battle would require absolute unity from every team member. He needed to strengthen their collective resolve at any cost.
"I've never shared this with anyone else," he began. "My father was a minor noble. Though neither wealthy nor powerful, he didn't struggle for basic necessities like commoners did. He avoided all risks, never ventured on trading ships, and pursued a life of absolute stability. By all logic, he should have outlived those pirates who risked their lives at sea. Yet what happened? By his early thirties, he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. His health deteriorated rapidly, and he consumed handfuls of medicines daily, effective or not. Then one day, he discovered my mother with a sailor... in our own home. And then... BANG!"
Dampier's sudden shout startled Aramis, who had become completely absorbed in the story.
Dampier's lips curled into a cold, sardonic smile as he continued, "In his final moments, my father finally did something 'significant.' He shot my mother and her lover in the bedroom, then came looking for me. I don't know what he intended, but I had already hidden in the wardrobe. Through the cracks, I watched him quickly abandon his search, sit on my bed, and put the gun in his mouth."
Aramis opened his mouth to offer sympathy, but Dampier cut him off before he could speak. "Don't pity me. Pity my father. His entire life is now reduced to a single story—the man who killed his unfaithful wife and then himself. He's nothing more than fodder for gossip over tea. The true tragedy is that he spent his life pursuing safety and stability, yet death and misfortune found him anyway."
"Do you know why I deal in weapons rather than pursue legitimate business? Because I've been waiting for someone like me—someone who would rather face execution by the World Government and Marine Headquarters before turning thirty, creating a global sensation, than live safely only to die of illness at the same age, lamenting fate's cruelty while putting a gun to his head in his son's bedroom, becoming a momentary joke before fading into complete obscurity."
Dampier fixed his gaze on Aramis. "There are countless safer industries William could have pursued. With his intellect and character, he would have succeeded in any of them. Yet he chose this path. That's how I recognized him as kindred—a man willing to stake everything, including his life, on his ambitions. What in this world isn't dangerous? I've heard about how William infiltrated Barbarossa's ship. Wasn't that perilous too? If we win this battle, we'll shake the world to its core. And we have a genuine chance of victory. So why hesitate now?"
With that, Dampier shook his head and walked away, leaving Aramis standing alone, lost in thought. His mind drifted back to a conversation around a campfire shortly after they had parted ways with Danton's crew. At last, Aramis understood why William valued Dampier so highly. It wasn't merely his brilliant mind or capabilities—it was because William recognized in him a kindred spirit: someone with burning ambition who refused to accept the status quo.
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