From the start of the first half of the Grand Line all the way to Sabaody Archipelago and Fish‑Man Island, there are seven possible routes.
The Straw Hat Pirates chose the one right in the middle.
With the World Government and Navy hunting them relentlessly, Oboro and Dom had hidden inside a Sea King the whole time, never showing themselves.
Only when they neared the Calm Belt did the massive creature finally break the surface, open its great jaws, and let them step out onto dry land.
Oboro had no intention of going back through Reverse Mountain—by now, it was sure to be crawling with patrols, and the moment he appeared, they'd be swarmed. There might even be a Navy Admiral waiting there.
Instead, he planned to take the Calm Belt along the edge of the first half, head first into the East Blue, then cross the Red Line to reach the North Blue.
The North Blue borders the Calm Belt next to the New World, but trying to get straight to the New World was far too dangerous.
Fish‑Man Island was almost certainly being watched too. Worse still, the moment they entered the New World, the Four Emperors would likely take notice and move against them.
The entire ocean is split into four seas by the Red Line and the Grand Line. Only the East Blue and South Blue connect to the Calm Belt along the first half.
In their current state, there was no way to reach the West Blue or North Blue directly—unless you counted official World Government or Navy vessels, of course.
Stepping onto shore and breathing fresh air again, both men felt as though they'd truly come back to life.
Oboro had checked first: no warships or pirate ships were anywhere nearby, so he'd had the Sea King drop them here. He'd thought it was an uninhabited island.
"Wait… a town?"
He spotted buildings clustered in the distance, near the island's center.
On a map, the first half of the Grand Line looks narrow, but in reality it spans a vast area. The islands and locations marked along the seven routes are all large or famous, or at least home to established kingdoms.
But countless smaller, scattered islands like this one exist too—hardly noticeable on any chart. This one lay close to the Calm Belt, so very few ships ever passed through.
Nearly all the intelligence Oboro remembered came from the route Luffy had taken; this outermost route was completely unfamiliar territory to him.
Dom felt the same. His old crew, the Flame Dragon Pirates, had sailed the sixth route, far from here.
They'd come ashore for two reasons: to gather information, and to figure out exactly where they were.
They'd spent nearly a whole month hiding deep underwater. They had no idea what was happening out in the wider world now.
Since it bordered the Calm Belt, they were almost certainly at the very edge of the first route. And Sea Kings are among the fastest creatures in the ocean.
"Let's go."
Oboro was the first to strip off his tattered, filthy clothes and change into simple disguise—most importantly, covering half his face. Dom did the same.
Then they set off toward the island's interior.
Along the way, Oboro noticed every tree had been cut down. That was exactly why he'd been able to see the buildings from the shore. Being near the Calm Belt, the climate was warm and humid, perfect for plant life; the ground was thick with lush green grass, but everywhere stood jagged, weathered stumps—clear proof of mass logging.
Less than a kilometer inland, they came across a dirt track lined with locals. Most were bare‑chested, hacking and digging into the earth with iron picks.
Women and children walked behind them, carrying heavy woven baskets, struggling under loads of mined ore.
They were stripping the island's resources.
But what caught Oboro's eye was the pirate standing guard over them.
"Huh?"
Seeing two strangers, the locals tensed up, eyes wary. The pirate's expression turned hostile instantly, and he swaggered straight over.
"You two—"
Before he could finish, Dom blurred into motion. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, swung his blade, and slit the man's throat clean open.
The laborers froze, faces drained of color, too terrified to move. The men stepped forward, shielding the women and children behind them.
"Captain…" Dom turned the body over, then fell silent, as if about to say something but thinking better of it.
As an experienced pirate, he knew exactly what kind of place this was. Oboro had already worked it out too.
This was a private island, seized and controlled by a pirate crew. The dead man's clothes bore their mark: a white skull, with two venomous serpents rising from its eye sockets, fangs bared.
Oboro spoke briefly with the locals. He learned this was Bonam Island—never famous for mineral wealth, but once rich in timber.
Now it was all but stripped bare. The green grass covering the land wasn't natural; it was all that grew back after the forests were destroyed.
Selling resources.
That was the truth of it. For most pirates, if there was profit to be made, they'd do anything.
By their very nature, almost all were ruthless and cruel. For the average pirate, the so‑called "great dreams" were nothing more than fairy tales.
"The Slick Pirates? Never heard of them," Dom shook his head.
He'd sailed these waters for years, yet this crew was unknown to him. But routes were isolated, and the Flame Dragon Pirates were only a mid‑tier crew—limited in reach and information. It was hardly surprising.
"But crews like this… they're everywhere," Dom added.
Pirates still had to survive, and you needed gold to pay and feed your men. The easiest, fastest way to make money was always raiding, looting, and burning. Even his old crew had done exactly that.
Bonam Island was small and remote, but sitting right on the first route, it was a perfect stopover—a refuel and resupply point for ships passing between navigation points.
What puzzled Dom was how any single crew could hold an island permanently. Even a tiny one, if it had resources, someone stronger would always come to take it.
This was the Grand Line. Any pirate that sailed here was dangerous, and the Navy patrolled too. He refused to believe no powerful crews or warships had ever passed through.
"This whole island is off‑limits," one man explained.
"The Slick Pirates forbid anyone from stepping foot here. You landed in the wrong spot—there's a small dock on the other side. Ships stop there, and they're escorted straight into town. Bonam Town isn't big, but over the years it's built up everything you need: taverns, gambling dens, weapons dealers, supply shops… everything."
"Who's their captain? What's his bounty? If he's held this place this long, he must be strong," Dom pressed.
"You need to leave. Now. Before they find you," a cold voice cut through the crowd.
Oboro looked over. It came from an old man, well into his sixties.
"I don't know who you are, or where you come from… but this crew is not something you can afford to cross."
"Oh? And why is that?" Oboro smiled, amused.
Dom didn't know, and Oboro had no memory of this crew from his past life. That usually meant they weren't anything special.
"The fact that the Slick Pirates can operate here, seize our home, strip everything we have, run every kind of business… and never face trouble? That tells you everything you need to know."
Unlike the others, the old man stood straight, calm and unafraid. He'd clearly seen decades of the sea. Probably a former pirate himself.
"They have backers, don't they?" Oboro looked him in the eye, calling it out straight.
The old man fell silent.
"Who?"
"I've no reason to tell you." He gave a sharp huff.
"One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, then?"
Oboro stroked his chin, eyes glinting with curiosity.
At that, the old man's face tightened instantly.
"Let me think… I don't know our exact coordinates, or our position on the map… but we're near the start of the Grand Line. None of the other Warlords would bother with a small island or petty trade like this. They wouldn't waste their time. Which means… it can only be him."
"Based on where he operates… and how desperate he is for gold and profit…"
With every word Oboro spoke, the old man's eyes grew wider, pupils dilating in shock.
"You know far too much… His secrets are never supposed to leave his territory… You're not just some random strangers, are you?"
Oboro smiled softly.
Sir Crocodile. The Desert King.
Interesting.
He'd only just escaped one Warlord… and now he was already tangled up in another's affairs.
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