The Red Line, the Holy Land of Mary Geoise.
Deep within the lavishly decorated, heavily guarded Room of Authority inside Pangaea Castle, the absolute rulers of the world—the Five Elders—were currently engaged in a cold, calculating discussion.
"That brat from the Donquixote bloodline is utterly useless," the blonde, bearded Elder stated flatly, his arms crossed over his chest. "To be so effortlessly swatted aside and defeated in a single blow... how pathetic."
"Sengoku submitted a formal request to completely revoke his Warlord of the Sea title. What are your thoughts on the matter?" the bald Elder holding the First Generation Kitetsu sword asked, scanning the room.
"Technically speaking, a Warlord who suffers such a humiliating, absolute defeat completely loses their capability to serve as a terrifying deterrent against other pirates. By our own foundational laws, he is no longer fit for the position," the Elder with the massive mustache replied. "However... we cannot ignore the highly classified secret he holds in his hands."
"He is currently suffering from critical internal injuries and is actively detained under Vice Admiral Tsuru's supervision," the Elder with the birthmark on his forehead pointed out. "If we truly want to eliminate him and silence him permanently, this is the absolute perfect opportunity to strike."
"Inappropriate," the tall, long-haired Elder immediately rejected the idea, shaking his head. "That brat is a rabid, incredibly cunning dog. We have absolutely no way of knowing if he has established a 'dead man's switch'. If we assassinate him while he's incapacitated, and that secret regarding the National Treasure of Mary Geoise is automatically leaked to the global underworld... the political fallout would be catastrophic. It is incredibly unwise to act recklessly right now."
"Indeed. Furthermore, we only just officially announced his appointment to the world," the bald Elder added. "Stripping him of his title merely days after granting it would severely damage the prestige and absolute authority of the Warlord system itself."
"Very well. Then we shall completely suppress the details of his defeat and temporarily shelve the Doflamingo issue," the bearded Elder concluded seamlessly, finalizing the fate of the Heavenly Yaksha in a matter of seconds. "Let us pivot to the far more pressing matter: the Remnant of Ohara, Nico Robin..."
Within the cold, marble walls of Pangaea Castle, these five old men casually sipped tea and dictated the fate of nations, sweeping world-shaking events under the rug with effortless indifference. Compared to a rogue pirate like Bardock, the Gorosei were infinitely more terrified of the archeologist who possessed the ability to decipher the Poneglyphs and uncover the Void Century.
Meanwhile, back in the North Blue.
Inside the heavily guarded Marine medical tent in the ruins of Flevance, Donquixote Doflamingo finally forced his eyes open.
His entire body was heavily wrapped in thick medical bandages, and a throbbing, agonizing pain radiated from his ribs and spine. As his drug-addled brain slowly cleared, a wave of profound, suffocating dread washed over him. He never could have imagined in his wildest nightmares that his arrogant, impulsive decision to ambush the battlefield would result in him getting brutally one-shot and nearly permanently shipped off to Impel Down.
He could practically smell the Seastone chains waiting for him. The only reason he hadn't awoken in a maximum-security transport ship was because his blackmail material regarding the Celestial Dragons was simply too heavy for the Five Elders to gamble against. His political extortion had literally just saved his life.
The tent flap was violently thrown open.
"Oh, you're finally awake," Vice Admiral Gion sneered, her eyes dripping with absolute, unfiltered disgust. "Then get the hell out of my camp, you piece of trash."
Gion had been completely infuriated ever since Sengoku relayed the Gorosei's absolute order to release him and maintain his Warlord status.
Doflamingo frowned heavily for a moment before his signature, psychopathic grin slowly stretched across his face. "Fuffuffuffuffu..."
He could feel the lingering numbness of heavy, military-grade sedatives coursing through his veins. It was glaringly obvious that the Navy had desperately tried to keep him completely neutralized while they petitioned the World Government to strip his title, only to be ruthlessly shut down by their superiors.
"Heh! The 'Righteous' Navy..." Doflamingo mocked softly. Without uttering another word, he painfully pushed himself off the cot and walked directly out of the tent.
The moment he stepped outside the Marine perimeter, he was immediately swarmed by the frantic Executives of the Donquixote Family.
"Ne, ne! Doffy! Are you okay?!" Trebol yelled, his snot dripping wildly as he leaned in close. "Doffy! Does it still hurt?!" "Young Master, the Marines actively tried to lock you up while you were unconscious! Should we retaliate?!" "What are your orders, Young Master?!"
Surrounded by his fiercely loyal subordinates, Doflamingo raised a hand to silence them, offering a few brief words of reassurance. His face then darkened considerably.
"Where is Bardock's crew?" Doflamingo asked, his voice completely devoid of warmth. "Don't tell me they actually managed to escape?"
"They did, Doffy," Trebol answered, his face twisting in annoyance. "Their golden ship possesses some kind of advanced flight technology. They completely bypassed the Marine blockade and shot straight up into the clouds. The Navy fleet couldn't do a damn thing to stop them."
"Dammit!" Doflamingo roared, his veins bulging violently beneath his bandages. "I will absolutely make him pay for that strike!"
He was incredibly resentful. In his arrogant mind, he hadn't truly lost; he had simply been caught completely off guard by a cheap, high-speed ambush before he even had a chance to activate his Devil Fruit Awakening! He swore to himself that the next time they crossed paths, he would show that golden-eyed brat the true, terrifying apex of a Paramecia Awakening.
"Ne, ne, Doffy, listen to this," Trebol leaned in, lowering his voice. "Because the World Government is aggressively suppressing all details of this war to protect your reputation, they are officially moving the White Dragon crew out of the internal Marine threat registry and issuing massive, global public bounties for them. Should we contact Morgans and politely advise the bird to keep his beak shut about your involvement?"
"Bounties, you say?" Doflamingo's eyes gleamed fiercely behind his red sunglasses, his twisted mind instantly spinning a new, malicious scheme. "Fuffuffuffuffu... If they're getting official bounties, I simply cannot pretend I don't know about it."
High above the clouds, far away from the desolate ruins of Flevance, the White Dragon successfully deactivated its flight dials and gracefully splashed back down onto the sparkling blue ocean.
On the deck, the atmosphere was incredibly relaxed and triumphant.
Under Mansherry's meticulous care and her miraculous Heal-Heal Fruit abilities, every single crew member who had suffered exhaustion, bruises, or internal injuries was fully restored. In fact, after surviving the grueling, life-and-death baptism of fighting elite Marine Headquarters veterans, the entire crew felt stronger and more vigorous than ever before. Their combat experience and Haki reserves had taken a massive, qualitative leap forward.
Standing on the crow's nest, Enel swept the horizon and the skies with his maximum-range Mantra. Finding absolutely zero Marine warships or pursuit squads, he casually dropped down to the deck and gave Bardock a firm nod.
Bardock let out a long, genuine sigh of relief.
While he wasn't afraid of a fight, having to simultaneously juggle the overwhelming forces of a Great Staff Officer's fleet and the entire Donquixote Family while trying to protect his vanguard would have been a profoundly exhausting, high-risk nightmare. Breaking away when they did was the perfect tactical play.
"Bardock," Robin walked over, gently closing a book she was reading. "Where is our next destination? Given the sheer chaos we just caused, the Navy is undoubtedly going to be hunting us relentlessly across the North Blue now."
"For our next stop..." Bardock smiled, pulling a detailed nautical chart of the North Blue from his coat and spreading it across the barrel next to him. He tapped his finger firmly on a specific, remote archipelago. "We're going here."
The crew gathered around to look at the parchment.
Right where Bardock's finger was resting, bold letters spelled out the name of their next target: Swallow Island.