Brook stood silent, brows furrowed in confusion. Roger hadn't contacted him. That was already suspicious. But more troubling was the sudden lack of intelligence updates on the Roger Pirates from his own spy network.
"What's going on with Moore Thomas and Antonio?" Brook muttered. "Roger's crew is on one of the highest-priority watchlists."
Antonio, who had been riding nearby, looked awkward as he scratched his head.
"Brother Brook... I may have forgotten to mention," he began sheepishly. "Roger's Observation Haki—it's evolved to the point where he can hear the voices of all living things. That includes animals."
Brook blinked. "So?"
"That means our Den Den Mushi and News Seagulls can't tail or eavesdrop on him anymore," Antonio explained. "He senses them."
Brook's eyes narrowed in thought. "So... something in the Dragon Tomb called to him."
A chill breeze swept through the deck of the golden airship as Brook pieced it together.
Could there be a Poneglyph hidden beneath Dragonstone? Or an ancient dragon that reached out to him? After all, those who can hear the "Voice of All Things" are often chosen—called by the past.
Turning toward the silver-haired princess, Brook asked plainly, "Daenerys, may I enter your Dragon Tomb and have a look?"
If Roger could snatch a giant egg, why shouldn't he?
"Of course, Lord Brook," Daenerys answered at once. "The Kingdom of Westeros belongs to you now. Whatever is in the Dragon Tomb is yours to see."
She was nothing if not practical. With her family nearly wiped out and her future tied to Brook's protection, there was no reason to withhold access. Besides, if Brook found a way to awaken dragons again, the Targaryen bloodline would soar once more.
Brook, pleased with her decisiveness, gave her a small nod. He had little patience for those who hid behind ancient traditions when they had no strength to back them up.
The strong take what they need. The weak should at least know when to say yes politely.
"We deal with Night King Barrow first," Brook declared. "Then, we raid the tomb."
He clenched his bony fist. "The Shadow-Shadow Fruit… Perfect for creating zombie armies. But this fool dared to kill a king on my turf. That fruit's mine now."
"As you command, Lord Brook," Daenerys said, her voice steady but burning with revenge. Her fists clenched tightly. Barrow, you're dead. This time, I'm not leaving empty-handed.
---
The flying fleet soared toward Desperation Iceland—Westeros' final northern island, lying at the edge of the Hell Pirates' territory, right on the border of the Ice Kingdom.
That icy hellhole was now the domain of Barrow, the self-proclaimed Night King.
His zombies and White Walkers infested the land. And because the island's rear connected to the Ice Kingdom, Barrow could retreat at will, then launch new raids into Westeros. A frustrating thorn.
Brook had intentionally held back from storming the Ice Kingdom before. He'd been eyeing the Ice Giants—remnants of the old overlord's race. It wasn't yet time to claim them by force.
But that restraint had given Barrow cover to grow.
The bastard had allied with rebellious generals from Westeros, nearly exterminating the Targaryens. He'd even tried to negotiate with agents of the Hell Pirates—likely to buy time.
Now, he had corpses of three Ice Giants, turning them into frozen juggernauts. All he needed was a dragon corpse from the tomb… and he could disappear into the snow forever.
---
Inside his crumbling fortress, Barrow paced with irritation.
"Damn Roger Pirates… Monsters, all of them!"
The Night King's skin was pale, his face drawn. His White Walker Pirates had once assaulted Dragonstone—only to be driven back by Roger himself.
He waited for Roger's crew to vanish, then struck again. He slaughtered the Targaryen royals with his Westerosi allies, thinking this time the tomb was his.
But fate mocked him. Roger returned—and again, the tomb was defended.
Barrow scowled at the memory. His best zombies were crushed by Roger's team.
Fortunately, the Ice Giant zombies hadn't entered the tomb—their bodies were simply too massive. If they had, Roger might've wiped out his entire crew.
One of Barrow's lieutenants stepped forward nervously.
"Lord Barrow… what if we blew up the entrance to the Dragon Tomb? We could trap the Roger Pirates inside—bury them alive!"
Barrow's eyes flared.
"You idiot! If we destroy the tomb, what's the point of being here?! I came for the dragon corpse!"
He grabbed the pirate by the collar and slammed him against the icy wall.
"Get this through your rotting skull—we wait. If Roger's crew leaves, we strike the tomb immediately."
What Barrow didn't know was that the Hell Pirates had already taken notice. If not for Brook's birthday celebration for his kids, Golden Lion Shiki would've razed this island days ago.
It was only because Shiki had prioritized cake and family that Barrow still breathed.
---
Inside the tomb, deep beneath Dragonstone—
Roger and his crew had been exploring for days. They traversed winding caverns, marveling at fossilized dragon bones and forgotten relics. Eventually, they found it—a hidden chamber containing a Poneglyph, half-buried beneath centuries of stone.
A rubbing was taken immediately. Roger stood silently before the slab, his eyes solemn.
The True History…
His Observation Haki pulsed. And then—he heard it.
The heartbeat of a living creature.
In the deepest chamber, surrounded by glittering scales and ancient carvings, was a single, massive dragon egg. Its shell shimmered with crimson stripes, its warmth defying the cold.
Roger walked forward, palm hovering over it. The egg felt... familiar.
A decision came quickly.
"We take it."
His crew looked surprised. "What about Brook? Didn't you promise—?"
Roger grinned.
"I'll tell him later. We'll say we found one. He can get the rest."
---------------
Rayleigh and Gaban nearly fell over when they heard Roger's latest declaration. Was he serious?
This massive dragon egg was practically the size of half their ship's deck. Where exactly did he plan to store it—hang it from the mast like a decoration?
"Roger, are you out of your mind?!" Rayleigh exploded, veins bulging on his forehead. "Our ship's not a floating mansion! With that thing on board, where the hell are we supposed to stand, let alone fight?!"
Gaban nodded fiercely. "And what, we just let it sit there out in the open? Let the wind, rain, and every damn storm in the New World hammer it until it cracks?!"
Rayleigh was seething. "The New World's weather is unpredictable! One minute it's sunny, the next we're being bombarded by flaming icebergs! Who's gonna be on egg-duty 24/7?!"
He had a point. Dragons hadn't hatched in Westeros for centuries, and there was no guarantee this egg would be any different. It could just sit there forever.
But Roger, with a calm and slightly dreamy smile, placed his hand gently on the warm surface of the egg.
"Relax, Rayleigh. I heard it... there's life inside. A strong, healthy heartbeat. This shell? It's tougher than steel. I believe in it."
Gaban squinted at the egg, rubbing its shell. "Alright, but be honest with us... how long until it hatches?"
Roger's lips twitched. His eyes darted around like a guilty child caught red-handed. He tried to dodge the question, but Rayleigh wasn't having any of it.
SMACK!
A fist landed on Roger's head with a loud thump.
"Talk!" Rayleigh roared, grabbing Roger by the collar. "How long, damn it?!"
"Uhh… twenty to thirty years," Roger mumbled with a sheepish grin, rubbing the fresh lump on his head.
"TWENTY TO THIRTY YEARS?!" all the crew members echoed in unison, eyes wide and jaws slack.
What kind of madman planned to babysit a dragon egg for decades?! They were pirates, not glorified babysitters for prehistoric omelets!
Rayleigh was livid. "No! Absolutely not! Either give the damn thing to Brook, or leave it here! We'll come back for it when it's ready to hatch!"
The other crew members nodded fiercely. No one wanted to risk their lives protecting a giant, immobile target for thirty years—especially not in the chaos of the New World.
"Taking it with us would just put it in danger," Rayleigh added. "We'd be painting a target on its shell."
Even Roger had to admit the logic made sense. He looked down at the dragon egg again, conflicted. There was a strange, almost emotional bond between them, but... was it worth risking the crew?
He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint, pulsing aura inside.
I'll come back for you. I promise.
The dragon egg responded with a warm, joyful hum.
With a heavy heart, Roger moved the massive egg into the depths of the Thousand Dragon Cave. He placed it beside a hidden Poneglyph, rolled a boulder in front of the entrance, and sealed the chamber shut.
It would rest here—safe and undisturbed.
Afterward, Roger turned his gaze to the entrance of the cave.
"We need to clear out the White Walker Pirates camped outside," he muttered. "They've been sniffing around the Dragon Tomb for too long. Best to let the Hell Pirates come and take over this territory."
But beneath that strategic decision was a deeper unease—a shiver down Roger's spine.
Brook.
The very thought of him sent a chill through Roger's bones.
Did Brook know all of this would happen? Did he see this moment coming?
Brook's cryptic words echoed in his mind: The son of the era… the man of destiny… fate will guide you.
Roger's brows furrowed. That eerie Den Den Mushi, the timing of Brook's gifts, his knowledge of the future—it was all too precise.
"Rayleigh… do you think Brook can really see the future?" Roger asked quietly, eyes serious for once. "Has he been predicting our path all along?"
Rayleigh adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and sighed. "Brook is… beyond understanding. Ever since he sent that snail, I've felt like he's been playing a different game than all of us. Maybe he wanted us to find the dragon egg. Maybe he even planned this when he gave us that training on Advanced Haki…"
Roger's expression darkened.
"Could it be his Devil Fruit?" he asked. "Does it let him peer into destiny?"
Rayleigh shrugged, but his voice was firm. "I don't know what his powers truly are—but right now, he's not our enemy. That's what matters. As long as our goals don't clash, there's no reason to fight."
Roger remained quiet. He stared back at the sealed cave.
Can I really keep this hidden from Brook?
If Brook truly had foreseen this, if he wanted the egg—or the Poneglyph—he'd come for it. And what right did Roger have to deny him? After all, Dragonstone was Brook's domain. The Targaryen tombs were under his protection.
"Roger," Rayleigh said, breaking the silence, "if it comes to that… just give the egg to Brook. He's no tyrant. In fact, he might be the only one who can hatch it safely. He's built a kingdom more stable than any member of the World Government. He doesn't rule with fear—he rules with ideals."
Rayleigh's voice grew more somber. "And we're not getting any younger. The Hell Pirates are only going to grow stronger. Risking everything for a dragon egg… isn't worth a war."
Roger nodded slowly. His gaze softened, but the worry didn't leave his eyes.
He didn't fear Brook as an enemy. But he feared what it would mean—for all of them—if they stood in the way of fate itself.
"…Yeah. I understand."
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