Crocodile pursed his lips as he looked at Don's matter-of-fact expression.
Good grief… the man really was treating him like a laborer.
And yet—why did he feel a tinge of excitement about it?
Back in Alabasta, when he agreed to join Don, there had still been a hint of coercion involved. But during the journey to the Sabaody Archipelago, he'd had plenty of time to think about what Don had told him regarding the Hunter Guild.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized—this was something monumental.
Perhaps this… was what people meant by vision.
Crocodile nodded slightly as he watched Don, that thought echoing in his mind.
Compared to his own old dream of finding the Ancient Weapon Pluton and building a utopia, this new plan—something that could reshape the entire world order—was clearly far grander in scope.
The only unpleasant part was how Don seemed to be using him as muscle.
Still, to take part personally, to be one of the architects of something like this—it was exhilarating in its own right.
In short, he was fired up.
"Were you listening?"
Don's voice broke through his thoughts. Crocodile blinked, snapping out of his daze.
"Huh?"
He turned to see Don staring at him curiously, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Hunters are not pirates. Remember that."
Crocodile nodded, silently mulling over the meaning behind that statement.
"If I wanted to be a pirate," Don continued, "I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble. I'd just form a pirate crew and be done with it."
You didn't really go through that much trouble though, did you?
Crocodile thought to himself—but wisely kept his mouth shut.
He had a feeling that if he said that aloud, he'd get punched.
"Then what exactly is the difference?" Crocodile asked after a pause. "From what you've said, any kind of hunter is acceptable—treasure hunters, for example. Some aren't that different from pirates."
He hesitated, then added,
"Wouldn't that limit the Guild's growth?"
Robin and the fishman Tom, standing nearby, both turned their attention to Don as well, curiosity glimmering in their eyes. They, too, wanted to hear his answer.
Don glanced at Crocodile, then turned to gaze out at the vast sea behind him.
That lone silhouette seemed almost detached from the bustling dock—standing in a world of its own.
Robin and the others watched him intently.
Don was silent for a while, deep in thought.
He had to admit—it wasn't easy to define what a hunter truly was.
After all, the Hunter Association that existed in his memories didn't have many restrictions either.
But somehow, that wasn't quite the same as what he envisioned.
Heh… I really made this complicated for myself, he thought, sighing.
Finally, he turned around to face the three who were waiting for his answer.
"Do as you wish—just don't cause harm."
Don spoke the eight words slowly and clearly.
Crocodile froze, eyes widening in surprise.
Robin blinked, her gaze softening with a flicker of admiration.
Tom drew in a sharp breath, then grinned wide, showing off his rows of sharp teeth.
Seeing their reactions, Don sighed inwardly.
Perhaps… that was just his way of doing things.
He had once read those same words in another life—words he hadn't fully understood back then.
But now, in this world where the strong held everything and the weak could only obey,
he finally did.
After all, a man needed a line he wouldn't cross.
Because he was no villain.
"Let's go," Don said, brushing past them. "I'll take you to meet someone.
He's the only one who can help you with the Guild's operations.
Just treat him like one of your enforcers."
The three blinked out of their thoughts, glancing at each other before following after Don.
Crocodile found himself silently impressed.
What a man of conviction, he thought. Truly remarkable.
But just as the thought crossed his mind, Don—walking ahead—suddenly stopped, turned around, and scratched the back of his head.
"Uh… how do we get to District Thirteen?"
He asked sheepishly.
Must've been my imagination earlier, Crocodile thought, pressing his lips together to hide a smirk.
"We can take a Bubble Car straight there," Crocodile replied after a few steadying breaths.
"Good. Arrange transport for us. Also, have your men make contact with the crew on my ship—and make sure my vessel stays safe. That thing cost a fortune."
"Understood."
Crocodile nodded and signaled to Daz in the distance.
Daz caught the gesture and responded with a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Bubble Cars were a unique form of transportation exclusive to the Sabaody Archipelago.
After all, the entire archipelago rested atop a single, colossal mangrove tree floating on the ocean's surface.
When the roots of the mangrove "breathed," they released natural bubbles that floated upward—bubbles that could only exist within the archipelago.
Once outside the red tree's range, they would instantly burst.
But here, the locals had found countless practical uses for them.
The Bubble Cars—used for traveling between the different island sectors—were one such innovation.
Even the coating process used to submerge ships to Fish-Man Island relied on the same resin-based bubbles produced by the mangrove.
"What an incredible place," Robin said softly as she rode atop one of the Bubble Cars.
"No matter how many times I've read about it, seeing it with my own eyes is incomparable."
Don sat behind her, scanning the surroundings with quiet intrigue.
The entire archipelago was unlike any place he'd seen—no solid ground, only the tangled, massive roots of the mangrove trees.
They stretched across the sea like giant bamboo, forming a sprawling "forest" atop the water.
Each major root cluster formed its own district, clearly marked by large, visible numbers overhead.
"I've already looked into it," Crocodile said, steering his own Bubble Car beside them.
"The Sabaody Archipelago's numbered zones vary in nature, but Areas 1 through 29 are lawless territories.
Even the Marines rarely interfere there.
Pirates, slavers, and criminals roam freely.
I plan to establish the Guild's base in one of those sectors."
"Sounds fine to me. You're in charge of that," Don replied casually.
"I've already left that matter in your hands."
"You don't seem concerned at all," Crocodile muttered around his cigar, frowning.
"I trust you completely. You'll handle it well."
Don smiled pleasantly—then added,
"Of course, if you don't, well…
you do remember who I am, don't you?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Crocodile stiffened.
That's a threat. That's definitely a threat.
"Relax, I'm kidding," Don said with a grin.
Crocodile bit down on his cigar and glared at him for a second before turning back to the path ahead.
"The Sky Island project needs to move faster," Don said thoughtfully.
"Many pirate ships blown there by sea currents are wrecked—but loaded with treasure.
And there's the gold of Skypiea itself.
Also, make arrangements for supplying them with materials.
What they lack most is soil—but transporting that by ship will be troublesome.
I'll have Issho think of a way."
He rubbed his chin.
With Issho's ability, maybe he could even lift an entire island into the sky.
Though it wasn't the same as the Float-Float Fruit…
he'd have to ask and see.
END OF CHAPTER
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