While all Marine Branches near the kingdom of Thutmose were notified, the fleet from Marine Headquarters, led by Dragon, was less than three hours away from the Thutmose Kingdom.
Rear Admiral Ivan stepped out onto the deck.
"Rear Admiral Dragon, your hunch was correct—CP2 just sent word. Bases 242 and 289 notified the Thutmose Kingdom the moment they received our orders."
"But strangely, Base 194—the one closest to the kingdom—hasn't made a single move to contact them. Instead, they've deployed every ship they have, fully loaded."
Dragon showed no reaction to the first part, still quietly watching the sea in the distance.
But upon hearing the latter part, his eyebrows twitched slightly. He turned to face Ivan.
"If I recall correctly, Base 194's commander is Colonel Harros, isn't it?"
"That's right."
"Seems this Colonel Harros is quite sharp."
A complicated look crossed Dragon's face.
Originally, he'd intended to report the collusion between the 'Slave King' and the corrupt Southern Navy officers to Marine Headquarters after the operation—wipe them all out in one sweep.
But Harros's response had made things more difficult.
He had drawn a clear line between himself and the other two commanders.
Because of this contrast, Marineford's higher-ups would likely go easier on him.
At most, they might confiscate most of his illicit wealth, demote his rank, and transfer him to another post.
As for those other two commanders—they'd definitely be paying a visit to Enies Lobby.
"I'll have to meet this Colonel Harros myself when this is over."
Dragon then turned to Rear Admiral Ivan and asked, "How are the 'cat' pirates doing after I captured them?"
"The ones who survived aren't badly wounded. Our onboard medics have patched them up."
"The two 'cat' captains are still unconscious. They suffered the worst injuries."
"But the doctors say they won't die. After all, they're Zoan-type users—beings like them are extraordinarily resilient."
After that, Rear Admiral Ivan asked with curiosity, "So… does this mean you're not planning to send them to Enies Lobby for trial?"
"No. I plan to take them back to Marineford and imprison them there for now."
Dragon didn't hide anything. His tone was open and direct.
"Judging by the fact that they didn't attack civilians, I don't see them as truly heinous criminals. I don't think they deserve to be thrown into Impel Down. I'm considering recruiting them into the Navy."
"I see. Two Zoan-type users… they are quite valuable. If trained well, they could become excellent assets."
Rear Admiral Ivan nodded without much surprise.
After all, it wasn't uncommon for Navy officers to recruit pirates who caught their eye.
As long as they weren't high-priority criminals of the World Government, the upper brass usually turned a blind eye.
But if anything went wrong later… that officer would be held accountable.
...
The Kingdom of Thutmose—previously mentioned as a desert nation—differed from Arabasta in a key aspect: situated in the South Blue, it experienced regular seasonal changes. Its most beautiful season was winter.
During winter, snowflakes would drift down from the skies, blanketing the golden sands of the desert in a layer of ice and snow. The resulting fusion of white and gold created a stunning visual spectacle.
Though Thutmose was a medium-sized island kingdom, it had only one city—Shabak, commonly known as Sand City.
With its vast land, sparse population, and harsh desert environment, the presence of just a single city gave the kingdom an appearance of weakness and poverty. Even passing pirate ships rarely bothered to stop, deeming it unworthy of their time.
But what the world didn't know was that beneath Shabak—the kingdom's sole visible capital—lay an expansive underground complex. Layer upon layer of structures glowed with yellow light, while the air rang with shouting, screams, wails, and sobs. It was as if the very atmosphere here reeked of despair and pain.
Soldiers patrolled the area—each of them wearing white robes and green collars, wielding whips, battle axes, spears, or muskets. Their faces were expressionless, their presence terrifying.
In the distance, the tallest and most eye-catching structure came into view—a grand pyramid. That was the true royal palace of the Kingdom of Thutmose.
Just moments ago, the infamous 'Slave King' in the underworld—King Taklama—had received news that a fleet from Marine Headquarters was en route to capture him.
Yet seated on his golden throne, he gave no visible reaction. None of the high-ranking officials present could read the king's expression.
That was because King Taklama wore a golden mask that concealed his face. His attire was unmistakably pharaonic—a white robe, an ornate collar, and a golden scepter in hand.
Inside the great hall, built from massive stones, stood four senior officials dressed in white robes. On both sides of the chamber, powerful royal guards stood silently at attention.
"Your Majesty, should we begin preparations to evacuate?" one of the officials finally asked, hesitantly breaking the silence.
King Taklama responded with a question of his own.
"In about two hours, how many people can be evacuated? How much treasure? How many ships?"
"Uh…" The official faltered, then asked, "Should we also summon the slave hunters from outside to assist?"
"No."
The king clearly had his own plan and immediately dismissed the idea.
"There are only about ten thousand slave hunters in total. Fewer than two thousand are stationed in the South Blue, and even fewer could return here in time. Whether they come or not makes little difference. Even if all ten thousand returned, what good would it do? They're not combat personnel."
"Then… what are your intentions, Your Majesty?" the official asked, puzzled.
"My intention is this: we will evacuate. Now that we've been dragged into the light, we must find a way to slip back into the shadows."
As he spoke, King Taklama rose from his throne. Standing at a towering height of two meters, his imposing figure came fully into view. The cold mask looked down upon the four officials below.
"But the Navy's first fleet is already at our doorstep. If we want to preserve most of our forces, we must defeat them first. Then, before the second and stronger fleet arrives, we vanish into the darkness."
The four officials finally understood their king's intentions.
"Two hours is enough time to prepare for war. At the same time, have the ships ready. Once we defeat the Navy's fleet, we'll immediately transfer the main force, along with all essential supplies and treasures!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"But… what about the slaves?" another official asked. After all, slaves were the kingdom's main source of income.
"Take fifty thousand of the finest slaves. Leave the rest to sleep beneath this desert. It will serve as a fitting grave."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The officials once again responded in unison. No one uttered a word on behalf of the abandoned slaves—because anyone who dared speak up would immediately be counted among them.
"Have you gathered any intel on that Rear Admiral Dragon and Rear Admiral Ivan?" King Taklama asked.
"Your Majesty, according to reports from the slave hunters in the Grand Line, Rear Admiral Ivan is a fairly accomplished swordsman, but beyond that, there's little of note. It's Rear Admiral Dragon who warrants your attention."
"Oh? Is he a Devil Fruit user?"
"No, Your Majesty. According to the slave hunters, he is not a Devil Fruit user. But his background is... quite unique."
"Go on."
"Yes. Rear Admiral Dragon—full name Monkey D. Dragon—is the son of the Marine hero, Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp. Reportedly, this is his first time leading a major military operation as the commanding officer."
At the mention of Garp's name, a flicker of tension passed through the King's eyes beneath his golden mask. As the so-called Slave King of the underworld, he knew things the average person could never imagine.
Most civilians believed Garp earned his title as a Marine Hero because of his relentless pursuit of the Roger Pirates—repeatedly cornering them and eventually capturing Gol D. Roger himself, delivering him to the execution platform.
But the king knew otherwise—or at least, that this wasn't the full story. Based on what he'd heard, Garp's true strength might even surpass that of Fleet Admiral.
"Do we know where Vice Admiral Garp is now?"
The intelligence officer, his expression respectful and solemn, replied, "The slave hunters weren't able to determine his exact location. Vice Admiral Garp has always acted independently. Within Marine Headquarters, he's known for going wherever he pleases. However, there are rumors he's recently returned to his homeland in the East Blue."
"I see…"
King Taklama exhaled deeply in relief. Inwardly, he made a note: in the coming battle, it would be best to spare Dragon's life if possible. No need to provoke Garp into going truly berserk.
If Garp could chase Roger for over a decade, he could just as easily hunt down someone for killing his son—for another ten years or more.
And the last thing the king wanted was to provoke a mad dog with the world's highest combat power.
"Enough. Begin preparations!" he ordered.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"