Soon, the warship anchored along the coast of the deserted island.
Once the gangplank was lowered, Ortoren stepped off with a heavy warhammer strapped to his back, Gion following close behind.
"It looks untouched, no signs of development or inhabitants, right?" Ortoren gave the island a casual glance, then released his Observation Haki to scan the surface.
Sure enough, there was no one around. He nodded in satisfaction.
In truth, if he had probed just ten meters deeper, he would have detected the hidden activity within the cliffs at the island's center. But with the assumption that this was nothing more than an uninhabited island, who would go as far as to comb every inch of ground with Observation Haki?
For Ortoren, even scanning the surface was already being thorough.
"Today's not the full moon—tomorrow is. We've been at sea for so long, why don't we let everyone come ashore and stretch their legs? Just don't go too deep into the island. If there are any venomous swamps or beasts, we'll only risk casualties. Let's keep to the coast, maybe hold a barbecue and relax a little." Ortoren stroked his chin as he spoke with Gion.
Having been stuck aboard the ship since they left the Red Line for the South Blue, Gion was restless as well. She nodded without hesitation. "Sounds good to me."
Soon after, she gathered the Marines and set about organizing the barbecue.
The soldiers were delighted. Supplies were plentiful on the warship, and there were more than enough hands to help.
Ortoren, meanwhile, found a calm stretch of shoreline to fish, hoping to soothe the irritability that had been building over the past two days. The Marines worked quickly—he hadn't managed to catch a single fish yet, but the bonfire was already built, and the cooks had begun preparing food.
...
At that same moment, high on the cliffs, Dragon and Ivankov crouched beside a narrow ventilation shaft, peering at the scene outside.
From their vantage point, they had a clear view of the coastline. The Marines' warship was docked casually at the shore, and a large group of soldiers had disembarked, bustling with preparations for campfires and meals. Their faces were bright with cheer—it was obvious they were planning a banquet.
Seeing this, Dragon, once a Marine himself, let out a small laugh. "I know this well. After long stretches at sea, when exhaustion sets in, Marines sometimes dock at a nearby island to rest and hold a banquet to raise morale. That's exactly what this is. They're not here for us—we can relax."
"How long will their banquet last?" Ivankov asked.
"Usually just a night. But since they'll be partying tonight, they'll probably stay aboard tomorrow to recover. I'd say they won't set sail again until the day after," Dragon replied knowingly.
"I see. Then there's no problem. If we stay hidden for two or three days, we'll avoid any danger." Ivankov smiled, finally at ease. Then, with a casual tone, he added, "Do you recognize which Marine officer that is? Could be one of your friends."
At his words, Dragon leaned closer, peering out through the hole. After a moment, his eyes fell on Gion, who was down on the beach helping the Marines with their preparations.
"It's Gion!" Dragon said with a smile. "I got along pretty well with her. When she first joined the Marines, I was actually her superior for a time..."
"From the way you say it, she must be a good Marine then?" Ivankov asked.
"Yeah. Gion has a strong sense of justice, and she's got plenty of talent and potential. I even believe she could reach the level of an Admiral someday..." Dragon paused, his tone tinged with regret. "But back then, I was so lost and uncertain. Otherwise, I might have pulled her into the Freedom Fighters with me—this path has far more promise."
"Once we rise and grow stronger, there'll still be a chance," Ivankov said confidently, giving Dragon a pat on the shoulder.
Dragon laughed. "You're right. There are many reliable people in the Marines, but they've been bound by chains for too long. Unable to see hope, they've resigned themselves to despair. If one day we can offer them hope and opportunity, maybe they really could become something greater."
Dragon despised the darkness that had swallowed the Marines, and he loathed the upper class of Mary Geoise and the Celestial Dragons who had brought it about.
But he didn't hate his father, nor men like Admiral Sengoku or Zephyr-sensei.
He understood that the world needed people like him—to break through thorns, clear a new path forward. But it also needed people like Garp, Sengoku, and Chief of Staff Tsuru, who continued to struggle within the quagmire.
If not for them fighting and enduring within that mire, the vast Marine organization would have collapsed long ago. And its collapse would have sent shockwaves across the world, bringing consequences far too terrifying to imagine.
How many lives would be lost before the seas returned to this strange balance and uneasy peace? No one knew—but the number would surely be astronomical.
Although Dragon scoffed at Sengoku and Garp's so-called "big picture," he still understood—it was a necessary sacrifice.
That sacrifice wasn't just the innocent people crushed by the darkness. It was also the pain and torment carried in the hearts of the Marine leadership.
Whether it was his father, Admiral Sengoku, or Zephyr-sensei, hadn't they all joined the Marines with a burning sense of justice?
Did they stay in that mire because they enjoyed the struggle? With their strength and ability, if they left the Marines, wouldn't they live better lives elsewhere?
So why persist?
Dragon believed there were still many true champions of justice within the Marines. They just hadn't yet been given another path forward, and so they could only keep struggling in that swamp.
But one day, he would give them that choice. And when that day came, everything might change.
"Perhaps one day, we might even fight side by side," Dragon thought to himself.
As that thought lingered, Ivankov suddenly spoke. "Huh? That other guy with the Rear Admiral's insignia—who is he? He looks familiar somehow..."
"Which one?" Dragon asked, following his gaze.
"The one sitting off by himself, looking a little out of place. He's fishing." Ivankov gestured.
Dragon quickly spotted the figure. His brow furrowed. "From the back, I don't recognize him. But that warhammer on his back... I feel like I've seen it before."
A moment later, Dragon and Ivankov exchanged glances, both blurting out at the same time: "It's the guy from the newspaper—the one who defeated the Red Count!"
"He's a real powerhouse. At least according to the reports, the Marines regard him as one of the new-generation monsters, on par with Kuzan, Sakazuki, and Borsalino. On top of that, he's a Logia-type Goro Goro no Mi user. They say he's unimaginably strong, with a body like steel... Speaking of which, are Borsalino and the others really that strong? Stronger than you?" Ivankov asked.
Dragon paused, rubbing his chin. "Out of pride, I'd like to think I'm stronger. But those three are indeed formidable, and they've only grown stronger since. Let me put it this way—one-on-one, I'm confident. But against two at once, I wouldn't stand a chance."
After a short pause, he added with a faint, confident smile, "Of course, I wouldn't go down easily either."
Hearing that, Ivankov sighed. "So the Marines really are brimming with talent..."
Dragon nodded with a touch of emotion. "That's right. Otherwise, how could they remain the dominant power of the seas?"
After watching a while longer and confirming the Marines were truly just holding a banquet, Dragon and Ivankov finally felt reassured. They left their vantage point and returned to rest.
They would wait two days. Once the Marines were gone and peace returned, they could resume their work.
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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