Dressrosa, royal palace.
Doflamingo sat with a crystal goblet in hand, not smiling, not taunting, only frowning hard enough to crease his brow. Beside him, Trebol's sludge-like form looked equally sour.
"Unbelievable. Senor Pink, in the East Blue of all places…"
As a Warlord, Doflamingo's people were no longer officially wanted. Ron had not collected a bounty, he had robbed the Donquixote Family of a Devil Fruit, and left a dead executive behind.
From the doorway, a man leaning against the frame spoke in a cold, flat voice. "Want me to go?" Diamante, one of the top executives, stared ahead without a blink.
Doflamingo set down his glass. "No."
"Going to East Blue is pointless."
The East Blue is too vast. Even the Marines struggle to round up ten and twenty million berry pirates there. If Senor could fall to this hunter, then this is not someone you catch by tossing one man into a haystack ocean. You could chase for months and never cross paths.
"If he beat Senor and took the fruit, whatever trick he used, he will not stay in East Blue forever." Doflamingo's eyes cooled. "We wait."
"We wait for him on the Grand Line."
Trebol sniffed and flicked a string of mucus. "Right. Chasing him around the East Blue could take forever. Besides, Diamante, you have a trade to handle."
Diamante's jaw flexed. He wanted to move, wanted payback, but the logic was sound. On the Grand Line, lanes are fixed, news travels fast, interceptions are easy.
"Then we wait on the Grand Line," he said, with a razor-thin smile.
—
"Absorbed the Devil Fruit's energy," Ron said. Hearing it for the first time, Nami found it strange, then fascinating. She had learned magic first, not fruits.
A beat later, she grimaced. "But a single Devil Fruit is worth over a hundred million berries."
"Power first, money later," Ron waved her concern off. "Stronger means richer."
"And now?" Nami asked. "Grand Line?"
They had planned to go half a month ago. The fruit had delayed them. Another concern lingered unspoken. Killing a Donquixote executive and stealing their prize meant a blood feud, and the moment they set foot on the Grand Line, the Family might come calling. Regular officers Ron could handle. Top executives were trouble. If the Joker himself moved, it would be worse.
Staying in East Blue to grind strength was not realistic. Ten years might not be enough. Waiting for some rubber kid to topple Doflamingo was not an option.
Ron did not brood long.
"Nami, do you have a four-seas world chart?"
She unfolded the large map, sparsely dotted with islands, split into four by the Grand Line and the Red Line. Entrances were marked in neat ink.
Ron tapped the Red Line where it bisects the Grand Line. "We go here, then sail along this."
Nami blinked. "You want to cross the Red Line to enter the Grand Line?"
"No, we still sail."
She stared. "That is impossible. The Grand Line is wrapped by the Calm Belts. No wind in the belts, and they are a Sea King nest."
"Which is why we hug the Red Line," Ron said, eyes bright. "If something happens, we can set down on land. Look at the belt's width. At full speed, we can clear it in a day."
No wind, yes. But Ron had Gale magic for propulsion. If a Sea King wrecked the hull, he could grab Nami and fly. With his current Spirit, a day in the air was doable, and the Red Line would always be a landing strip to catch their breath.
Nami muttered, half convinced, half exasperated. Then she bared her teeth in a tiny devilish grin. "Why are we risking the Calm Belt at all?"
"Because that fruit was stolen from the Donquixote Family," Ron said. "Their patron is a Warlord. Use the usual Reverse Mountain route and we might get tailed fast."
Nami's shoulders sagged. Warlords, sanctioned pirates with legal plunder rights, were the stuff of grim headlines. They had not even entered the Grand Line, and they had already offended one.
"Even if we cross the Calm Belt, what changes?" she asked weakly.
"It matters," Ron replied, smiling now. "Cross there and we arrive at… Marine Headquarters."
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