GR-27 Zone.
"Name."
"Stella."
"Age."
"Nineteen."
Standing to the side, Tesoro watched as Stella was questioned by a government official. When he heard her age, he looked visibly surprised—he had assumed they were the same age.
Funny how things worked out. Though they'd known each other for a year now, he'd spent most of his time hustling for money and never actually asked.
At that moment, it wasn't just the two of them. All the former slaves were having their explosive collars removed and were now lined up in long queues, undergoing registration and arrangements.
"Gender."
"...Huh?"
Stella looked puzzled at the sharply dressed official in front of her. Tesoro, standing beside her, couldn't help but interject, "She's this beautiful and you still can't tell?"
"Just because someone looks like a woman doesn't mean they are one. For all we know, she could be from the Kamabakka Kingdom."
The government worker gave a glance of impatience, tapping his pen against the notepad in his hand. "I need to record everything. Just answer the questions."
Stella gave a small nod and softly replied, "Alright. Female."
"Which sea, which kingdom, which island are you from?"
"South Blue. Strawberry Island. Not part of any kingdom."
As he noted that down, the official gave a small, knowing nod.
Just as expected. Most slaves come from ungoverned, independent territories. That way, no one steps in when they're taken.
"Do you want to stay here, or return to your homeland?"
"..."
Stella hesitated and turned her eyes toward Tesoro. He flashed her a bright, reassuring smile and took her hand.
"If you want to go back, I'll go with you."
But as soon as the words left his mouth, the government official immediately interjected, "According to regulations, only former slaves are escorted by the Navy. You won't be allowed to accompany her."
"Then I'll just follow on my own boat."
Tesoro didn't think it was a big deal. After all, the money he had earned over the past year was enough to buy a small ship. Just then, a nearby Navy lieutenant in charge of maintaining order walked over and chuckled.
"Even if they let you follow the warship, an ordinary boat won't keep up. Not to mention the Grand Line's extreme weather conditions—you'll probably lose track of the fleet, or worse, get swallowed by the sea."
Earlier, many had witnessed Tesoro and Stella's passionate kiss. Now, the two of them had become the center of attention in the area, drawing even more scrutiny from the Navy around them.
Tesoro's expression stiffened. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn't want to be separated from Stella again—but he also didn't want to stop her from going home. He was torn.
"I choose to stay here!"
Stella squeezed Tesoro's hand and looked into his eyes with gentle resolve.
"I believe in you. One day, you will be able to take me back yourself. Right?"
Tesoro's throat moved slightly as he swallowed hard, then nodded firmly.
"I swear I'll earn enough money and buy a proper, seaworthy ship to bring you home to the South Blue!"
As the beautiful couple exchanged heartfelt gazes, the Navy lieutenant nearby began to feel a little bitter—and more than a little annoyed. He scoffed.
"Money and a ship aren't enough. What if you run into pirates out there?"
"Can you protect her—and yourself? If you ask me, you should just let the lady sail back with our warship. Otherwise, she might never make it back."
Tesoro was speechless. Born and raised in the Sabaody Archipelago, he had never traveled beyond it. While he had seen pirates and heard plenty of stories, he'd never really interacted with them—aside from waiting on a few in the store where he worked.
Still, he wasn't an idiot. He understood all too well the danger of encountering pirates on the open sea.
"...Then what should I do?"
"It's alright. Then I won't go back. I'd rather stay here with you," Stella whispered, stroking the furrow between Tesoro's eyebrows with her fingers.
"I'm sorry," Tesoro said, his voice low, staring at the woman in front of him with helpless longing.
"Enough," the government official said, waving them off. "You've made your choice. You can go now. I've got more people to process."
"Thank you for your efforts. And thank you, kind Navy officer, for your warning."
Stella's beautiful smile instantly brightened the mood of both the government official and the Navy lieutenant.
But this also made their gazes toward Tesoro grow more complicated. Why does this lucky brat get so fortunate? He looked broke, weak—even if he was kind of good-looking.
Still, envy and resentment couldn't stop Tesoro from holding Stella's hand and slowly walking away.
"Let me take you home, Stella."
"Alright. Is there anyone waiting at home?"
"No. That drunk old woman I hated passed away two years ago. The house became mine. From now on, it's our home."
Stella nodded as they walked. She remembered Tesoro mentioning it before—how his mother, who had hated his singing despite how beautiful it was, had died.
But just as this couple approached the bridge connecting GR-27 and GR-26, three sharply dressed men in black suits walked over.
"Who are you?"
Tesoro quickly stepped in front of Stella, eyeing them cautiously.
"Excuse me, are you Gild Tesoro?" asked the man in the center with a pleasant smile.
Tesoro hesitated for a moment before replying, "Yeah. What's this about?"
"Let me introduce myself. I'm Pield, a senior councilor from the Department of Public Affairs, directly under the Propaganda Bureau. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Uh… hello, Senior Councilor Pield. What do you need from me?" Tesoro asked, looking utterly confused.
Councilor Pield met his gaze with a calm smile. "Our bureau was just recently formed. One of our key initiatives is to cultivate a few entertainers into national celebrities—with a strong emphasis on singers. After careful review and investigation, we've selected you as one of the candidates."
"...What?!"
Tesoro's eyes widened in disbelief. Behind him, Stella had covered her mouth in shock.
"W-Wait a minute. There's way too much going on here. Let me think for a second—"
Tesoro snapped out of it, forcing down his excitement and trying to keep calm. Gritting his teeth, he asked, "First off, how do I know you're legit? And second, how the hell did you even notice a nobody like me?"
"As for verifying our identity, we can take you to the local Navy branch for confirmation. As for why you were selected..."
Truth be told, even Councilor Pield didn't know. He was just as baffled. All he'd received from higher up was a name, a rough description, and an order: Find this person and designate him as a key talent for development.
And the reason?
None.
That was the real red flag—if even he wasn't given the reason, it had to be classified. Which meant it had to be handled with utmost care.
That's political intuition.
"It was a talent scout," Pield said smoothly. "One of our people saw you on the street and thought you had a fantastic presence. So, what do you say? Want to give the life of a singer a try?"
Tesoro and Stella looked at each other. She gave a supportive nod. After a few seconds of hesitation, he responded: "Take me to the Navy branch first. If you can get a high-ranking officer in a coat to vouch for you, then I'll believe you."
"Of course."
"Oh, by the way—do you have any songs of your own? If not, we can assign someone to write them for you."
"Uh… yeah, I do."
From that moment on, two more destinies had taken a new path.
...
Although Dragon's swift intervention quickly settled the chaos in slave-heavy zones GR27, GR28, and GR29, the Lawless Zone included a total of twenty-nine areas—ranging from Area 0 to Area 10 and Area 20. Saying that the number of criminals there was in the hundreds would be an understatement.
As a result, the gunfire and chaos lasted an entire day and night before finally beginning to subside. Even the island's permanent residents had to stay up alongside the Marines, not daring to close their eyes for a moment.
By the time the morning sun rose again from the eastern horizon, the Marines' cleanup operation had been mostly completed.
During the process, the number of captured pirates and kidnapping syndicates became so overwhelming that Dragon had no choice but to request prison ship support from Enies Lobby.
While continuing the manhunt, prisoners were sent away in waves. Even so, every holding cell at the base was packed full, all of them waiting for the next round of prison ships to arrive.
At the same time, news of the Marines' sweep of all slave trade operations across the Sabaody Archipelago spread rapidly in all directions—instantly shocking and infuriating many shadowy figures behind the scenes.
When the Slave King was captured earlier, many of them had already become wary. But since their own businesses weren't affected, none of them wanted to be the first to stick their necks out. After all, if the whip hadn't struck their own backs, they couldn't feel the pain.
Besides, the Sabaody Archipelago had always been under the jurisdiction of the Holy Land Mary Geoise, right next to Marineford. For hundreds of years, nothing had ever happened here, so they assumed the Marines wouldn't dare take action.
As for why, most believed it was because the Celestial Dragons frequently visited the island.
But now, Dragon hadn't just dismantled their money-printing machines—no, that wouldn't do it justice. He had flipped the entire table over, smashed it, split it in two, and stomped the printing machine itself into scrap!
Now, every major figure with ties to the slave trade could no longer sit still.
Even the entire underworld began to surge toward Monkey D. Dragon!
More spies began infiltrating the Marine Headquarters, eager to determine whether this operation was Dragon's personal action—or a direct order from the Marine top brass.
Royal families, too, began using their noble connections to gather intelligence from the Holy Land Mary Geoise. They needed to know how the Celestial Dragons were reacting to this incident.
Meanwhile, some of the more hot-headed bigshots didn't care about any of that. Driven into a corner, red-eyed with rage, they simply sent their top fighters straight to the Sabaody Archipelago.
In their minds, it didn't matter who had given the order. Dragon was the one who executed it—so he had to die first!
What?
He's the son of the Marine Hero, Garp?
So what?!
And yet, right at the eye of this massive storm, Dragon sat calmly behind his desk at the base, steadily handling documents. He was working on compiling a detailed report of the operation.
As for the incoming storm from the dark world?
It wasn't that he didn't see it coming—he simply had one thing to say:
He is the storm.
And to him, declaring war on the dark world?
Couldn't be more fitting!