A terrifying shockwave suddenly erupted. The Black Cat Pirates' ship shattered in an instant, splintering into thousands of fragments.
Those pirates who had tried to flee were torn apart by the violent force, and the sea turned into a rain of blood.
Even the nearest Marine warship was caught in the blast — as if struck by an invisible hand, it was pushed several meters back, rocking wildly from side to side like a toy boat.
Whoosh—!
A sharp, cold gleam flashed across the air.
Bogard seized the moment — his blade flashed twice, clean and precise. Two heads flew into the air — Sham and Buchi.
And as for Jango? He had retreated too fast… and was ripped apart by that earlier punch.
The Black Cat Pirates, who had terrorized the East Blue for over a decade, were erased in an instant.
If this were the Grand Line, perhaps someone would have recognized the source of that overwhelming power — from the canine figurehead on the Marine warship.
Unfortunately, in the East Blue, there weren't many pirates with that kind of insight.
Take the Black Cat Pirates, for example.
"Vice Admiral Garp, my apologies. It was my negligence," Bogard sheathed his sword, bowing slightly, guilt clouding his expression. "I failed to let you have a good night's sleep."
"It's fine, it's fine. They've already lost — nothing to care about." Garp waved his hand dismissively and broke into a hearty laugh.
Bogard's face darkened. "But sir, I'm more concerned that your next opponent… is the Red-Haired one."
At that name, every Marine aboard the ship froze. After all, that was one of the Four Emperors.
"Shanks, huh? That brat—what's he doing running off to the East Blue of all places? What a troublesome fellow." Garp dug a finger into his nose, lounging lazily in his deck chair. "Has Marine Headquarters reported where he is now?"
"We can't confirm it yet," Bogard replied seriously. "After appearing at the Sabaody Archipelago, Shanks vanished without a trace. It's suspected that he used a bubble-coated ship to dive under the sea and slip past the Headquarters blockade.
Admiral Aokiji has already led a team through the Calm Belt, heading for the East Blue. Fleet Admiral Sengoku has ordered you to arrive at Loguetown ahead of time. The surrounding Marine branches are deploying personnel centered around Loguetown.
Once the Red-Haired Pirates are spotted, Headquarters will be informed immediately."
"The East Blue, huh? You're sure of that?" Garp raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"The intelligence division at HQ captured fragments of a Den Den Mushi transmission between Mihawk and Red-Haired Shanks," Bogard explained. "The word 'East Blue' was mentioned."
He grew more solemn as he spoke. "This time, the situation is serious, sir. Please refrain from… those unnecessary antics."
"Hahahahaha! What's life without a little fun?" Garp waved his hand again, grinning wide.
Bogard sighed helplessly. Then something seemed to occur to him. "Right, one more thing — nearby Marine branches report spotting the Demon Pirates. From their sailing route, they seem to be heading the same direction as us.
Should we handle them along the way, or head straight for Loguetown?"
Under normal circumstances, Bogard wouldn't even ask that question — what were the so-called Demon Pirates compared to the Red-Haired Yonko?But ever since Garp had received that call a few days ago, he hadn't slept properly — challenging himself to stay awake night after night.
Bogard, who knew Garp well, could tell — the old man was still angry.
And that anger… had something to do with the Demon Pirates.
Garp fell silent, remembering the young Marine named Smoker and his pointed question.
He knew the call had come through Kuzan — a deliberate attempt to reveal the truth.
He had heard what really lay behind the Demon Pirates' reputation… and had even called Sengoku himself.
But Sengoku's response had been simple:
"The Marine's reputation comes first."
Garp chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair, pulling his cap over his eyes. "Heh… forget it. Let's deal with that Red-Haired brat first. Oh, right — the commanding officer of Loguetown's base… that's Smoker, right?"
"Yes, sir. A Logia-type user of the Smoke-Smoke Fruit."
Bogard hesitated, his tone thoughtful. "He's a bit rebellious by nature. Headquarters stationed him there to temper his attitude."
"…"
Garp didn't reply. He had already fallen asleep.
Bogard looked at him, deep in thought.It seemed that this ship might soon gain another vice-officer.
Far away, across the Calm Belt, a black ship drifted silently.
Its entire hull was hexagonal, its base pitch-black, its mast rising like a cross. From afar, it resembled a dark throne adrift upon the waves.
Behind that throne floated the massive corpse of a Sea King — a silent, dreadful offering to the ocean.
Seated upon that throne was Dracule Mihawk, the man known as the world's greatest swordsman.He slowly sheathed his black blade, Yoru, and let his hawk-like eyes drift toward memory.
He recalled a conversation — a recent one.
"It's rare to see you like this, Mihawk." Shanks' voice had echoed over the gentle sound of waves.
"Rarer still to see you heading for the East Blue." Mihawk's tone had been calm, even as Marine warships approached nearby — ignored like gnats.
"Beckman's been meddling again, huh?"
"He means well. But tell me, Mihawk — what in that quiet little sea could interest a man like you?"
"You've grown nosy, Red-Hair." Shanks' laugh was faint — not as bright as it once was.
"Beckman said the Red-Haired Pirates would owe you one, for meeting with the Marine Hero."
"I'm one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, Shanks."
"Yes… but only that."
"I won't die — not yet. The time and tide aren't right. Wait for me, Mihawk. We'll drink again when I return."
"Since when could pirates order a Warlord around?"
"Hahahaha! Then take it however you like. But I hope you're only meeting him."
"I think I will."
The memory faded.
Mihawk rose to his feet, gripped Yoru tightly, and swung it behind him.The slash propelled his small black ship forward at incredible speed — his own unique way of travel.
He didn't follow any mapped sea route. He already knew his destination.
Countless people had tried to curry favor with the World's Greatest Swordsman, but few succeeded. He had his own path — a straight line cutting through the East Blue.
And at the end of that line lay a single man-made landmark—
The Baratie Restaurant.
"Listen up, men! Tomorrow, we move out!"
Onboard the Dreadnought Saber, Don Krieg raised his wine glass high, overlooking the countless pirates gathered below.
"Once we seize that logbook, our next target will be the Grand Line! I, Don Krieg, will become the next Pirate King!
And you all—will either die for me, abandon me… or live on as the servants of a king!"
"Long live Captain Krieg!"
The deck erupted with deafening cheers, echoing across the nearby sea. Even the neighboring ships began shouting in excitement.
Krieg smiled in satisfaction. His anger toward Gin's delay had mostly faded.
So what if Gin wasn't here? Sometimes, when a subordinate shines too brightly, others lose their chance to stand out.
As he gazed at the sea of pirates roaring his name, Krieg's chest swelled with pride.
"I'd like to see who dares stand in my way!"
(End of Chapter)