At the same time, at the crude harbor of Dias Island, a small sailboat with no identifying markings quietly docked.
One after the other, Gern Reginald Sigmar and Dracule "Hawk-Eye" Mihawk stepped onto the island.
Gern swept his gaze across the mountains of discarded materials and the ramshackle, dilapidated houses. The air was thick with a nauseating blend of rusted metal and fermenting garbage. He couldn't help clicking his tongue, waving a hand in front of his nose, a playful smile spreading across his face.
"Honestly… who would've thought that the Donquixote Family—second only to that war-crazed Vinsmoke clan in the North Blue's underground trade—would choose this kind of place as their headquarters?"
As he spoke, he casually observed the residents along the road—eyes dull and lifeless as they busied themselves sorting trash—his tone light, as if he were genuinely sightseeing.
Walking behind him, Hawk-Eye Mihawk seemed either completely unaware of the harsh environment—or simply didn't care. His sharp, hawk-like eyes methodically scanned potential threat points out of habit. As for Gern's commentary, he had already grown used to it along the way.
Without looking away, Mihawk replied calmly,
"Perhaps it's precisely because it's so chaotic and unremarkable… that it's easier to hide."
"No, no, no—our Mihawk is still far too upright."Gern wagged a finger, grinning as he countered.
"Hiding is only part of it. What really matters is that this kind of place is naturally a perfect… battle buffer zone."
He kicked aside an empty can at his feet, producing a hollow clang.
"Look around—piles of scrap and garbage everywhere. No critical infrastructure. No valuable industries worth protecting. Sparse population, mostly people on the margins."As Gern spoke, his eyes gleamed with sharp insight.
"If an enemy comes knocking, you can fight all-out here without worrying about collateral damage. Once it's over—win or lose—set a fire, and most of the evidence disappears."
"And even if things get really noisy…"A faintly mocking curve appeared at the corner of his mouth."The Marines and the World Government aren't going to make a big fuss over a so-called 'recycling island.' To the outside world, anything that happens here can be conveniently chalked up to an 'industrial accident' or 'gang warfare.'"
"Our Mr. 'Joker' truly understands the meaning of 'hiding in plain sight'—and the blind spot beneath the lamp."
Mihawk listened in silence, finding Gern's reasoning hard to refute.
Gern continued, smiling."The most important thing is that he used to not care about reputation at all. For his family's business, the scarier the better."
"But now… things are a little different."
"Hm?" Mihawk gave a low, questioning sound.
"Based on the classified files Sengoku shoved at me—and cross-referenced with Shakky's intel…"Gern lowered his voice slightly.
"There's an eighty percent chance the World Government has already made private contact with that flamingo."
"The Seven Warlords still have several vacant seats. The World Government urgently needs pirates with real strength—pirates with 'stains,' but who can still be controlled—to fill those slots and stabilize the balance of power on the seas."
"And Doflamingo, with his former status as a Celestial Dragon, is without question an extremely tempting—and convenient—candidate." Gern explained.
"The 'legal plunder rights' and partial protection that come with that position are simply too useful for an ambitious man like him. He might not have cared about appearances before, but if he wants that seat, he has to watch himself a bit."
"He can't be too blatant about setting up shop in an obvious location and attracting criticism.A garbage dump like this? Perfect."
...
By the time Gern finished speaking, the two of them had already strolled—unhurried and at ease—up to the entrance of the Donquixote Family's hidden base, buried deep within the trash heaps.
A crude wooden fence and a handful of slovenly pirates, drinking and playing cards, served as guards.
When those lackeys noticed the two unfamiliar figures—so different in presence, yet equally oppressive—walking straight toward them, they froze for a moment before reacting. They hastily abandoned their card game, grabbed nearby weapons, and shouted menacingly:
"Hey! You two! Stop right there!"
"This isn't a place you're allowed to be! Get lost!"
"Take one more step and we won't be polite!"
However, Gern acted as if he hadn't heard a single word. He continued chatting with Mihawk, his pace never slowing as they walked straight toward the interior of the base.
The instant the pirates finished shouting and moved to rush forward—
Buzz—!
An invisible, formless pressure—yet one that felt as though it surged straight from the depths of the soul—erupted outward from Gern like a tsunami!
The pressure was terrifying… yet impossibly precise. It enveloped only the lackeys attempting to advance, without affecting Mihawk beside him or the surrounding environment in the slightest.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The pirates looked as though they'd been smashed in the head by an unseen hammer. Their movements seized up, eyes rolling back to reveal whites, saliva spilling uncontrollably from their mouths.
They didn't even have time to scream.
Like wheat cut down by a scythe, they collapsed in unison, unconscious.
Conqueror's Haki.The most efficient tool for clearing fodder.
Gern hadn't even made an extra gesture, maintaining the same walking posture alongside Mihawk.
"Precise… and overwhelming," Mihawk said quietly, his sharp eyes flickering slightly."Your Conqueror's Haki is the strongest I've seen since I first took to the seas."
"The strongest?" Gern laughed softly, his tone carrying a hint of something deeper."It's decent, I guess. But before long, a red-haired guy will appear on these seas."
He paused, then added,"That man's Conqueror's Haki… won't lose to mine."
"And his swordsmanship…"Gern deliberately glanced at the black blade Yoru on Mihawk's back."…won't fall far behind yours, either."
At Gern's words—especially the mention of swordsmanship—the eternally stoic face of the world's greatest swordsman changed, if only by the slightest margin.
The corner of Mihawk's mouth lifted—just barely perceptible.
In his hawk-like eyes, a sharp glint flared, like a predator spotting worthy prey.
"A red-haired swordsman…" Mihawk murmured, his tone unreadable."That does sound… worth looking forward to."
The two top-tier powerhouses continued discussing future rivals as they walked—entering the core of the Donquixote Family's base as casually as if they were returning to their own home.
This was how people at Gern's level operated.
No passion-fueled shouting.No dramatic declarations.And certainly no meaningful resistance.
Everything unfolded as calmly as still water.
...
Want to unlock up to 90+ early-access chapters and exclusive novels ? Join my Patreon today and dive deeper into the adventure!
patreon.com/denji21