Big Beard and the other G-5 Marines stared at the Vice Admiral as if the world had flipped. He regarded them with pure exasperation, as though their incompetence offended him. They were grunts clawing for survival in the New World; he was the "King of the North Blue," one of Headquarters' most sought-after Vice Admirals. Why did he sound so fluent in the art of plunder? He lacked nothing—troops, influence, money, arms…
Arthur and the other elite Headquarters Marines were no less stunned. When Darren said he was "angry," they'd assumed he meant G-5's disgraceful behavior. Instead, he was furious that their looting wasn't professional enough? The deck fell into an awkward silence as another moniker drifted back to them—"the Marines' greatest scoundrel."
"So… you're not angry we went to looting?" Big Beard ventured, watching Darren's expression like a man testing thin ice.
This officer parachuted in from Headquarters wasn't like the brass they knew.
"If a thing survives, it has its reasons," Darren said, amused. "The fact you've made it this long at the edge of the New World means your methods have merit."
He let the smile linger. "And now that I'm in charge of G-5, I'll do what I can to improve your situation."
According to what he knew, these men weren't beyond saving. Their victims were mostly pirates and underworld ships; they tried to shield civilians. On Punk Hazard they'd even risked themselves to protect Tashigi—honorable ruffians, the lot. With training, those strong swimmers and scrappers could anchor his future undersea force.
"Get some rest for a few days," Darren said at last. "I'll be in touch."
He turned to Arthur. "Split off part of the battleship's supplies for G-5. Vice Admiral Borsalino will escort you back."
Arthur paused, then nodded and moved to carry it out.
Darren had no intention of returning with them. Headquarters' orders had formally stationed him here. Once the handoff was arranged, he traded a glance with Borsalino and, with a soft rush of air, the two lifted off, vanishing into the clouds.
"So that's our new CO?" Big Beard muttered at the empty sky. "Seems like a decent guy…"
---
The New World—Fish-Man Island.
Ten thousand meters beneath the Holy Land Mary Geoise, Fish-Man Island stood as the gateway to the New World and the birthplace of most fish-men and merfolk—a dreamlike "Underwater Paradise."
A magnificent ship slipped through the deep, bound for that light-filled cavern of a world.
The Oro Jackson moved within a great transparent bubble. On deck, a young Shanks and Buggy leaned over the bow, wide-eyed at the island swimming in the sea's refracted sun.
"So this is Fish-Man Island…" Shanks breathed. "It's even more spectacular than the stories."
Ahead, an island emerged from the dim—a jewel inside twin hemispheres of bubble. An air-filled layer lay between them, and despite the crushing depth a sky arced overhead, pale clouds drifting in the light.
As they neared, the crew began to make out an enormous ancient tree, its trunk spiraling up toward that manufactured sky. Crimson and violet coral glowed; fantastical buildings crowded the hills; waterfalls spilled in silvery veils; rainbows bridged distances in seven colors. The sight stole words.
"Magnificent," Kozuki Oden said, resting his one arm on the rail. "I never dreamed something like this existed beyond the seas. I'm glad I joined you, Captain Roger."
The gloom that had shadowed Oden had burned off in the wake of travel. Unlike the Whitebeard Pirates, who held and tended territory, the Roger Pirates sailed and sailed. Since boarding, he had left East Blue anew, taken Reverse Mountain, followed the Grand Line, seen quiet seas and perilous ones, the old bones of Alabasta, even the sky above the sky. He'd met lands and people he'd never imagined in Wano—or even at Whitebeard's side. The road, and the crew's rowdy warmth, had cut the old knots free. For a moment, the one-armed swordsman stood bright and keen again.
"Hahaha! Didn't I tell you?" Roger laughed, throwing an arm over Oden's shoulders, his two nose hairs twitching with pride. "Following that old man Newgate is dull work. Same waters day after day—how can anyone stand the boredom?"
Around them, the crew rolled their eyes. You weren't saying that when you were on your knees, begging to borrow him, they thought.
"Though… something puzzles me," Roger said, frowning as the thought returned. "Skypiea has legends of the Golden City—so why didn't we find it?"
Their route to Fish-Man Island had begun in the sky, where Oden had read a Poneglyph pointing to the Ancient Weapon Poseidon. The clue had sent them diving for the deep.
"The people of Skypiea said Shandora, the Golden City, really existed," Rayleigh mused, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully. "But one night, about a year ago... it vanished completely without a trace."
To be continued...