At the same time, Gern and Mihawk had already left Area 13, strolling into the Mangrove Grove of Area 49 in the Sabaody Archipelago.
Compared to the chaotic atmosphere earlier, this area was noticeably cleaner and more refined. It was primarily a sightseeing district lined with specialty shops.The air carried the sweet scent of desserts, and relaxed tourists could be seen everywhere, mingling with crowds busy buying souvenirs.
Gern held the thin intelligence file Shakky had given him, flipping through it as he walked.He stopped absentmindedly in front of a cutely decorated ice cream shop and joined the queue, eyes still lowered to the pages.
Standing beside him, Hawk-Eye's gaze swept over the file. When he caught sight of the clearly printed words "North Blue" and "Donquixote Family," his sharp brows knitted slightly.
He genuinely couldn't understand why Gern would suddenly take an interest in some local tyrant squatting in a corner of the North Blue.
Yes—as of now, in the eyes of Dracule Mihawk, Donquixote Doflamingo really was nothing more than a regional boss lurking in the North Blue.
"So this time, you deliberately left the New World," Mihawk said at last, his voice as calm as ever, though laced with inquiry."Are you planning to make a trip to the North Blue? To deal with that so-called 'Joker'?"
Up until now, he had assumed Gern had brought him along to settle some personal vendetta.After all, the declaration over Fish-Man Island had already made Gern's stance clear—but this situation didn't quite match that assumption.
Gern, meanwhile, had just reached a key section of the report. Hearing Mihawk's question, he gave an absentminded "Mm," then suddenly froze.
He looked up from the file and stared at Mihawk's puzzled expression, momentarily stunned.
Then—like he had just remembered something critically important—he slapped his forehead hard and broke into an extremely sheepish grin.
"Ah! Right! I forgot to tell you!""Heh-heh!"
That reaction instantly gave Mihawk a very bad feeling.
Sure enough, Gern lowered his voice without the slightest sense of guilt and, in just a few sentences, casually explained the matter Sengoku had entrusted to him—
The plan to secretly support the undercover agent who had infiltrated the Donquixote Family: "Corazon" (Rosinante).
"So yeah, basically it's just a business trip to the North Blue," Gern concluded with a shrug."And while we're there, we help Sengoku's adopted son not get killed. That's about it."
He said it as though it were a trivial errand.
Mihawk, however, did not look trivial at all.
He had expected something minor—yet this was an operation involving Marine internal secrets and the World Government's most sensitive nerves!And Gern had just told him all of it so casually—despite the fact that Mihawk had joined less than a month ago?!
That kind of unguarded trust made Mihawk feel that Gern could be absurdly careless at times—
And yet, deep down, an extremely faint emotion stirred within him… something he himself did not notice.
A quiet sense of pleasure.
At the very least, it proved that Gern truly regarded him as one of his own—someone with whom secrets could be shared without reservation, not merely a subordinate bound by an old promise.
Gern, of course, noticed none of this, because the line had reached him.
He efficiently bought two ice creams of different flavors, then turned and handed one to Mihawk.
"Borsalino told me this place is pretty famous. Said it tastes good.""Here—vanilla. If you don't like it," Gern shook the pink one in his other hand, "we can swap. Strawberry's fine too."
Sunlight filtered through drifting soap bubbles, illuminating Gern's lazy smile and the faint mist rising from the ice cream.
The scene looked… oddly out of place, yet strangely fitting.
Mihawk stared at the ice cream offered to him—something completely incompatible with the cold image of the World's Greatest Swordsman.The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly beneath the brim of his hat.
Under normal circumstances—by his usual personality and image—he would have snorted coldly and refused outright.
But…
He glanced at Gern's casual, take-it-or-leave-it attitude—clearly genuine in its willingness to share—and recalled the earlier, unreserved trust.
In the end, Mihawk let out a faint, indistinct snort and swiftly took the vanilla ice cream anyway, his voice stiff and curt.
"No need to swap. I'm not picky."
And then—
The World's Greatest Swordsman, holding an ice cream utterly unsuited to his aura, expressionless—
Licked it once.
…Hmm.The taste wasn't bad.
...
Gern and Mihawk, each holding an ice cream, walked leisurely along the streets of Sabaody filled with shimmering, multicolored bubbles, heading toward the Marine base.
The strange pairing drew countless glances from passersby—especially the sight of the cold, stoic swordsman seriously eating a cone, which was nothing short of shocking.
Mihawk swallowed the cool, overly sweet cream and glanced sideways at Gern, who was also eating without the slightest trace of an admiral's dignity.
In a flat tone, he voiced the question that had been on his mind.
"I'm actually quite curious," he said after a brief pause."Why did you agree to Marshal Sengoku's request?From what I've observed at G-10, his restrictions and wariness toward you weren't exactly light."
In Mihawk's view, the relationship between Gern and Marine Headquarters—especially Sengoku—was far from harmonious.
Sengoku was clearly wary of Gern forming his own faction and expanding his influence unchecked.
Hearing this, Gern bit into the crisp cone and laughed vaguely, speaking with his mouth half full.
"But it's only 'restrictions,' right?"
He licked the ice cream from the corner of his mouth and continued.
"That guy's the Fleet Admiral. He has to think about balance, about the World Government's mood, about keeping the Marines functioning as a whole.For a rebellious troublemaker like me—someone who refuses to behave and constantly causes him headaches—the most he can do is cut funding, curse me out over the phone, and smash a few desks."
There was no resentment in his tone—only a calm, almost understanding acceptance.
"Look," Gern said, counting on his fingers."I planted flags and seized territory in the New World—did he send troops to suppress me? No.I collect protection fees and run my own 'revenue streams'—did he issue a written ban? No.This time with Fish-Man Island, I openly declared protection and even split profits with Neptune—what did he do? He yelled at me on the phone, then quietly let it pass."
"At the end of the day, Sengoku knows this very well."Gern smiled, his gaze growing deeper.
"What I'm doing may break from traditional Marine frameworks—might even look a bit warlord-ish—but my efficiency in crushing pirates and maintaining order in my territory in the New World is higher than anyone else's.
"My existence alone massively deters pirates in the New World and takes pressure off Headquarters.After all, the Marines' control over the New World right now is terrifyingly weak."
"He restricts me because it's his duty as Fleet Admiral, and because he's cautious.But he also needs me—needs this blade that doesn't always obey, but is sharp enough to cut through countless problems for him.
"Like when he's arguing with the World Government—he can drag me out as a threat and use that to bargain for concessions."
Gern summed it up with a shrug.
"Our relationship is more like…a mutually exploitative, mutually tolerant, awkward cooperation."
"So—"Gern finished the rest of his ice cream in a few bites and clapped his hands.
"This time, he swallowed his pride and asked me for help.Publicly, it concerns the safety of a critical Marine undercover agent—success benefits him and the Marines.Privately, it means he owes me a favor. Next time I go begging for resources or do something outrageous, he won't be able to scold me too hard."
"A free favor riding the current—why wouldn't I take it?Bottom line, just remember this: anyone who plays strategy has a black heart. He won't let himself lose."
Mihawk listened in silence.He disliked political maneuvering, but Gern's blunt, straightforward explanation laid bare the subtle and very real balance of interests between him and Sengoku.
"I didn't expect you to be this good at political games," Mihawk remarked calmly, his tone neither praise nor criticism.
Gern was just about to laugh and reply—'What can I say, I calculated my way up step by step from the West Blue'—
When—
"Ah! Help!""Run! Pirates!""Let go of me! Please—let me go!"
Terrified screams, manic laughter, and the sounds of smashing and looting suddenly erupted from the street corner ahead!
A group of vicious pirates was rampaging through the shops, beating civilians as flames began to spread.
One particularly burly pirate—clearly the leader—was violently dragging along a young girl who struggled desperately, tears streaming down her face.
"Quit crying!" he shouted crudely."Being picked by me and sent to the auction house is your damn honor! Maybe some big shot will take a liking to you! Hahaha!"
They were clearly planning to abduct her and sell her at a human auction.
Civilians fled in all directions, terrified—no one dared step in.
The casual smile vanished from Gern's face in an instant.His gaze turned ice-cold.
He didn't even look at Mihawk.
Gern simply lifted his eyes toward the brazen pirates, raised his left hand casually, and spread his fingers slightly.
"Bzzzz—"
An extremely faint yet scalp-numbing high-frequency vibration rippled through the air.
"Heavenquake · Hornet Needle."
The next second—
Countless vibration-energy particles, compressed and refined to an extreme into invisible needle-like forms smaller than grains of rice, were launched at speeds surpassing sound itself!
They precisely blanketed every pirate committing violence within a hundred-meter radius.
A series of soft yet horrifying muffled sounds followed.
The pirates who had been laughing and dragging the girl suddenly froze.
Their eyeballs bulged violently, blood vessels bursting as their eyes filled with red.The savage expressions were still frozen on their faces—but the light in their pupils had gone out.
Then, grotesquely, their heads swelled as if inflated—only to shrivel instantly, like punctured bags.
A mixture of red and white slowly seeped from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths.
The entire process happened so fast it defied comprehension—so fast they had no time to react, no time to feel pain.
One moment they were rampaging tyrants.
The next, they collapsed silently to the ground like boneless dogs—
Leaving behind more than a dozen corpses, their deaths eerily unnatural.
The street fell into absolute silence.
Only the crackle of burning flames remained… and the rescued girl's suppressed, disbelieving sobs.
Gern and Mihawk remained expressionless. Their pace never even faltered as they continued forward, stepping easily past the bodies scattered across the street.
When they reached the stunned girl, Gern stopped.
His tall figure cast a shadow over her.
He reached out and gently patted her head. His voice, once icy, softened noticeably.
"It's okay now."
Then he withdrew his hand and, shoulder to shoulder with Mihawk, continued walking toward the Marine base.
All that remained behind them was a silent street, smoldering flames—
And a girl, saved from hell, staring blankly at the two retreating figures.