High above the clouds somewhere in the New World…
Inside a simple house suspended beneath a hot air balloon, a figure twirled and danced, holding a wanted poster high in one hand.
They hummed a cheerful tune as they spun around.
Tables inside the room were covered with Den Den Mushi of all shapes and colors.
This floating home was strangely designed — apart from the balloon, it was painted in bright, distinctive colors resembling those of exotic birds.
And the person living here was none other than Morgans — famous across the world, and one of the hidden rulers governing the underworld of the New World.
The King of Media… or some even called him the King of the World.
He needed only to speak a few words or publish a handful of articles to send the whole world into turmoil. His organization ran the most advanced, secret, and widespread news network in existence, capable of delivering newspapers to every corner of the seas.
His spies and informants were everywhere.
And most importantly: he feared no authority. Not even the World Government could do a thing against him.
With influence this massive, if the World Government had any way to control him, they would never allow such a media tycoon to stir up chaos and trouble from the shadows. Morgans' actions were a constant headache for both the Government and the Marines.
He exposed their dark secrets and scandals.
He encouraged pirates and their bold deeds, constantly promoting certain "geniuses" among them, creating headlines and hype wherever he went.
Compared to the Marines or the World Government, he was far more "friendly" toward pirates.
And his reports could even dictate and change the bounties placed on people's heads.
Currently, the two hottest Supernovas — Portgas D. Ace and Cavendish — were essentially stars he had built up and promoted himself.
Behind him, dozens of Den Den Mushi rang out loudly.
Reporters and agents were sending in urgent reports and intelligence to their boss.
But Morgans' eyes were fixed entirely on the poster in his hand.
His gaze was intoxicated, excited, burning with intense passion!
A former slave of the Celestial Dragons… a descendant of a fallen kingdom… has done something unprecedented on the Sabaody Archipelago.
This event would shake every sea in the world, and leave a bold, unforgettable mark in history forever.
Morgans felt deeply grateful to this person… He was overjoyed to witness such a "miracle" happen during his own lifetime.
"Wonderful! I shall make sure to carve your name deep and indelible into the long river of history… And the one reporting it, the one who spreads this story to the world, shall be remembered and praised forever as the greatest journalist who ever lived — ME, MORGANS!"
As the balloon drifted further and further away, wild cheers and shouts of excitement echoed from inside the little house.
...
The Marines had failed.
Days of continuous searching and recovery yielded nothing — they never found the killer's body!
And despite the World Government's best efforts to block all news, newspapers detailing the incident at Sabaody flew across the world like snowflakes in a storm.
They had not only sent divers to search the waters, but also placed the entire coastal region under strict lockdown. Still, they could not confirm whether Oboro was dead or had escaped.
The Sabaody Archipelago was completely cut off from the outside world. Every ship — merchant or cargo — was barred from entering or leaving.
They had also quickly rounded up the remaining members of the Blaze Dragon Pirates, associates of Dom, hoping to squeeze out information and find a clue — anything — to offer as an explanation to the Celestial Dragons.
But it was all in vain.
Inside Sengoku's office at Marine Headquarters, Marinford…
His face dark with rage, Sengoku crumpled a newspaper in his fist, veins bulging on his forehead.
The headlines, photographs, and words printed there were glaring and infuriating.
"A Sinner Beyond Forgiveness? A God‑Slayer? Or the Strongest Slave of the Celestial Dragons in History? — By Morgans, World News."
"He Has Surpassed Fisher Tiger!"
"Authority Crumbles! Marine Incompetence Marks a Turning Point in History — The Fig Leaf of the World Government Is Torn Away!"
"Is He Alive? Where Is He Now?"
Line after line of bold text made even the calm, seasoned Sengoku's blood boil.
That bastard Morgans!
He was pouring oil onto the fire, enjoying the spectacle while making it as big as possible.
The fall of a Celestial Dragon, combined with the Marines' failure to handle the situation, would undoubtedly become a laughingstock around the globe. It would embolden pirates everywhere, and make everything far more difficult from now on.
What angered Sengoku even more were the photos Morgans had somehow obtained — shots showing Marines fighting against lawless elements on the island, looking disorganized, battered, and comical… Paired with the text, they painted a picture of Marine "weakness."
In reality, the Marines had swiftly and forcefully brought the whole island under control; those photos captured only very rare moments, yet they had been photographed and spread. Thanks to this report, the idea that the Marines were in decline had seemingly become accepted as fact by the public.
CRACK.
A loud sound echoed through the room.
Sengoku could take no more. He slammed his fist hard onto the desk and stood up.
Seated on the same sofa as Staff Officer Tsuru, legs crossed and wearing his signature dog‑ear cap, Garp bit happily into a donut. He had just let out a snort and was drifting off to sleep, only to be jolted awake by Sengoku's outburst.
But upon opening his eyes, Garp showed none of the "proper attitude" expected. He simply continued eating, then burst into hearty, loud laughter.
"What's the matter?! Did you finally think of a solution?!"
In his simple mind, such a dramatic outburst from Sengoku could only mean he had come up with a plan!
Next to them, Tsuru calmly lifted her tea cup and took a quiet sip.
Composed and unshaken as always.
As old friends who had spent their whole careers side‑by‑side, she had long grown immune to the constant bickering and drama between Sengoku and Garp.
"HOW CAN YOU STILL EAT AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!"
Sengoku ground his teeth in fury.
"What's the big deal… It's just one dead Celestial Dragon. Everyone dies eventually, right?" Garp remained oblivious to the gravity of the situation, rubbing the back of his head and grinning.
"You…!!"
Sengoku stepped forward and unleashed a torrent of shouting and lecturing right in his old friend's face.
Garp just kept one eye open and one closed; even as spittle flew onto his face, he never stopped chewing his donut.
Did he truly not understand how huge the consequences of a Celestial Dragon's death were?
Of course he understood. But now that it had already happened… thinking and worrying were always Sengoku and Tsuru's job. He couldn't be bothered to rack his brain over it.
Minutes later, Sengoku released Garp's collar with a heavy sigh.
He turned back to his chair and sat down.
He had only been venting his rage at Garp; none of this was Garp's fault anyway… And Garp, being who he was, knew exactly how much pressure Sengoku was under, and had let him blow off steam on purpose.
"Still… if that young man is still alive… things could get very troublesome indeed."
A moment later, Garp finished his food, his expression turning slightly serious as he spoke.
"The World Government sent envoys to speak with Doflamingo," Tsuru added. "We don't know exactly what was discussed, but in the end, he managed to keep his men alive… though the price and concessions he had to give up were enormous. He is absolutely furious right now."
Only Donquixote Doflamingo could have pulled that off.
If it were any other Warlord, their own lives would have been at risk.
Even though the officers of the Donquixote Family had little direct involvement in Saint Charlos's death, the incident had taken place in their auction house, so they bore responsibility.
Normally, those officers would have been executed. But given Doflamingo's status and power, he managed to save them — showing just how dearly he had paid to do so.
And Doflamingo was a man who believed in revenge for every slight. Right now, he wanted Oboro dead even more than the World Government did.
The problem was, not even the Government or Marines had a clue where Oboro was. No matter how influential Doflamingo was among pirates or in the underworld, he was powerless here.
"I am leaving immediately for Mary Geoise."
Sengoku's voice was heavy and grim.
"Are you ready?"
Tsuru glanced at him.
All three of them knew: if the Celestial Dragons demanded someone to take responsibility, the most likely candidate was Sengoku.
He might very well lose his position as Fleet Admiral over this.
...
On Onigashima — New World
Dark, oppressive storm clouds swirled high in the sky, while terrifying bolts of lightning crisscrossed above, shaking the air with thunderous noise.
Deep inside a large cave, a massive shadowy figure held a red ceramic jug and drank wildly… clear liquid pouring down both sides of his mouth like waterfalls, splashing onto the floor.
Moments later, the jug fell from his hand and shattered into pieces.
He let out a loud belch — then suddenly began to laugh like a madman.
All the pirates around him clamped their hands over their ears, trembling, their faces filled with pure terror.
...
Whole Cake Island — Totto Land
In a grand, gloomy palace hall…
Every child of the Charlotte Family was gathered.
"Mamamamama…!"
Seated upon an enormous throne, a massive woman let out a strange, rumbling laugh.
Between her fingers — covered in extravagant rings — she held a tiny scrap of paper.
To ordinary people, a newspaper was large enough to require unfolding and holding with two hands. But to her, the whole paper was no bigger than a fragment of scrap… yet she could read every word clearly.
Though she had to press it right up against her eyes to do so.
"If you are still alive… there is no place in this world outside the New World that can shelter you… Come to me… come to Totto Land…"
Her voice boomed and echoed through the entire hall.
"Find Morgans… He will know first whether that man lives or dies. If he lives, find him for me immediately… and invite him to attend my banquet."
"And remember — be fast! Be the first to find him!"
"YES, MAMA!"
Her eldest son and Minister of Candy — Perospero — uncurled his long tongue and replied in a loud voice.
...
A Snow Island — New World
A pirate crew had stopped temporarily, entering a dense forest where the wind and snow were less severe. They built a campfire and prepared a meal.
Shanks, captain of the Red‑Hair Pirates, sat on a cut‑off tree stump. He looked at the newspaper in his hand and smiled gently.
"Quite impressive… It looks like the seas are going to get lively again."
Lucky Roux, carrying an armful of dry branches, glanced over.
"He's probably dead by now, don't you think?"
"Even if he survived, he won't last long…" Benn Beckman said calmly, smoking his cigarette. "He's far too bold. There's no way he could enter the New World alive."
"The Celestial Dragons will never allow even the smallest crack to appear in their authority… This is nothing like any previous incident."
Shanks lowered the paper from his hand, no longer reading. He looked instead at Beckman.
"If you were him… aside from the New World, where would you run?"
"The Marines' control here is completely different from the first half of the Grand Line. To put it simply… here, the World Government has no overwhelming advantage. That's exactly why they fear us so much. To survive, the only choice is to come here… The Government knows that too, which means they will do everything to stop him from getting through."
"Everywhere else in the world — outside the New World — cannot protect him. Because anyone who shelters him is effectively declaring war against the Celestial Dragons."
"Even non‑affiliated nations or lawless islands… if he shows up, citizens, pirates, everyone will report him instantly. No one wants to be dragged into this mess. Right now, he is the most dangerous person alive — a walking curse."
"Though… personally speaking, I truly admire his courage and what he did."
"So there really is no way out? I don't believe that…"
Shanks shook his head, seeing Beckman so certain.
"I know what you're thinking… The Marines may have the upper hand strategically, but they haven't completely taken over every corner of the sea. There are special places people rarely go to — Sky Islands, for example… But this situation is too big, too serious. Anything you can think of… they have thought of it too."
Beckman spoke evenly and calmly.
"No… I mean the Four Blues."
Shanks grinned.
The Grand Line was already chaotic enough. If you couldn't protect yourself there, going to the so‑called "Beginner's Paradise" — the far calmer Four Blues — seemed like suicide.
Beckman opened his mouth to reply… then suddenly paused.
"Hmm… true. If he went there… there might be a glimmer of hope. Though he would never truly escape the shadow of death."
"I'm telling you — I have high hopes for him!"
Shanks slapped his knee, raised the newspaper photo again, and laughed heartily.
"This guy… he's incredible! I'm actually a little impressed myself!"
"He's nothing like us."
Beckman glanced at the image briefly, then turned and walked away.
This new face… who dared kill a Celestial Dragon…
He was a true example of someone who acknowledged no laws!
And people like that are synonymous with madness… They constantly break the "rules" this world lives by!
In short… a massive troublemaker.
"Not like us? But looking at his photo… he seems like such a nice, friendly guy!"
Shanks waved the paper and shouted toward Beckman's retreating back.
"NO."
Beckman's answer was sharp and absolute.
"Ah… alright…"
Shanks sighed theatrically.
Though he looked relaxed and casual, his eyes held a glint of wisdom and steady focus. He was only joking around… truth be told, he didn't really have any particular feelings or opinions about Oboro.
Shanks trusted his own judgment of people — even from just a picture.
And the feeling this person gave him… wasn't exactly good.
"Somehow… I feel that one day, our paths will cross. And that day… might not be too far away."
...
On the deck of the Moby Dick — Whitebeard Pirates
A grand celebration was underway.
Every crew member and commander raised their cups, drinking and laughing, playing rough games only men could enjoy.
The atmosphere was warm and joyful.
"Pops… the Big Mom Pirates suddenly pulled back all their ships and forces."
Marco the Phoenix, with his bright orange pineapple‑shaped hair, took a drink and wiped his mouth. He spoke to Edward Newgate, who was also enjoying the lively mood.
"I think… it has something to do with what happened recently at Sabaody Archipelago."
"Larararara…!"
Whitebeard put down his cup and laughed loudly.
"That woman Linlin… she's still exactly the same as always."
"You don't suppose… she wants to recruit that man?"
Marco rubbed his chin and muttered. "But we don't even know if he's alive or dead… And even if she finds him, she wouldn't dare take him in openly. At most… she'd hide him away somewhere secret."
Whitebeard's face was flushed red from drink. He remained silent.
As if deep in thought.
"Lararara… DRINK! LET'S DRINK!"
Whitebeard motioned for everyone's cups to be refilled and roared joyfully.
"OOOHHH!!"
The whole crew was fired up instantly, cheering and raising their drinks high.
"Hey… Pops… don't drink too much…"
Marco sighed helplessly, wanting to stop him — but unable to bring himself to ruin his old man's fun.
____________________
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