Ren's reason for restraining the Hound was simple—he wanted to steer the flow of news in the direction he desired, to resolve the matter concerning Shanks.
For that, he needed a person. Or rather… an organization.
The World Economic Journal!
And its president—Morgans, the bird-man.
In Ren's memories, that man was obsessed with big news, always seeking to make shocking headlines known to the world.
He would even risk his life to photograph a major event.
But Morgans was far from a pure, professional journalist.
Sometimes, he would twist facts or even fabricate them outright—either out of personal bias or to stir up excitement among readers.
Fortunately…
Morgans still possessed a shred of journalistic integrity. Even though he openly called himself a miser, he would never accept bribes to publish things he didn't wish to report, nor did he allow others to control what he wrote.
Every story printed under his banner had to be decided by him.
And Ren believed—that was something he could use.
If you broke all this down, it became clear that what Morgans wanted were real stories with explosive impact.
And Ren could give him exactly that.
When the Hound made his report, the ripples began to spread.
On a certain island stood a massive news agency nestled deep within the jungle. Countless News Coos came and went, carrying newspapers across the world.
This was the World Economic Journal's headquarters—the birthplace of countless major headlines that shook the seas.
"What!?"
At that very moment, President Morgans slammed his desk, his voice filled with disbelief as he listened through the receiver.
The Hound had once been an employee he'd personally taken an interest in, granting him a rare chance to join the organization.
Unfortunately, due to a lack of skill—and perhaps bad luck—the Hound had never delivered any satisfactory reports.
Morgans had felt some regret over that, but he never interfered.
Field reporters were like that: if you lacked ability, you'd be eliminated.
Otherwise, if a weak reporter kept forcing himself to chase stories, sooner or later, he'd die out in the field.
Yet…
Morgans had never expected that the Hound would return with this level of breaking news!
One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea—Crocodile—is dead!
That was the first explosion.
And the one who killed him was that "Demon Ren" whom Red-Haired Shanks had gone to the East Blue to slay!
A man who had died and come back to life—or perhaps, one who had survived an Emperor's hand! That was the second explosion.
And the third—
"Challenging a Yonko… a three-year duel, hahaha! What an arrogant and entertaining rookie! This world will never grow boring!"
Morgans burst into wild laughter, sunlight streaming through the window to illuminate the white-feathered bird-man.
A massive beak, small sharp eyes, snowy feathers, and a wide tail. His wings resembled human arms, and he wore a black top hat adorned with a red-and-white feather, a pale-blue shirt with a yellow bow tie, red-and-white plaid trousers, and a flowing black cape.
No one had ever seen his true face. Morgans always appeared in his beast form.
Creak—
The door to the president's office suddenly opened. A senior editor entered with a draft in hand.
"President, we've finished the front-page layout for the Great Pirate Cavendish. We've also confirmed his bounty—100 million Beli, the Navy's latest issue. After all, he destroyed a Marine battleship.
Do you prefer the headline to read 'Pirate Prince', 'Rommel's Kamaitachi', or 'White Horse Cavendish'? He's about to reach the Sabaody Archipelago—perhaps he'll enter the New World by year's end."
"No! Make it an extra edition!"
Morgans' tone was firm, blazing with excitement.
"An… extra?"
The editor froze. Cavendish was strong, and his Beautiful Pirates had a total bounty exceeding 100 million—but an extra edition? That seemed excessive.
"No, not him—this man!"
Morgans slapped the photo that had just been transmitted through the Den Den Mushi onto the desk.
In it, a four-winged angel floated in midair, radiant and sacred.
Golden flames surrounded him, forming a throne of divine light.
Behind the throne, thunder raged and lightning split the heavens.
His name—Demon Ren!
The editor's eyes widened in shock. Though the figure looked somewhat different, he could still recognize the familiar outline from the infamous East Blue incident involving a Yonko.
"Demon… Ren!? Didn't he die? Didn't Shanks kill him!?"
"He didn't. He's alive—and already on the Grand Line! He even killed Crocodile in Alabasta. Here, listen—our Hound interviewed him and took these photos!"
Morgans explained with gleeful precision, then barked his next command:
"Forget Cavendish! Put Ren's report front and center—make it the biggest story we've ever printed!
Tell everyone—tomorrow, I want this bombshell to rock the entire world!"
And so, across the sea, the man patiently waiting for his grand headline—Cavendish—was kicked clean off the spotlight by Ren's story.
Once the order was given, the World Economic Journal roared into full operation.
As the largest and most influential newspaper on the seas, its network spanned the globe.
Hundreds of branches worked in unison, connected by Den Den Mushi communication lines, transmitting, editing, and compiling data nonstop.
They were professionals, after all.
The next day—
Countless News Coos took flight from headquarters and branches alike, spreading the day's issue across the world.
And while ships sailed near the Sabaody Archipelago—
A thunderous roar of anguish echoed across the sea.
"Why!? Why did the front page become an extra issue!? And why isn't my face on it!?
You said I'd be the next big sensation! I even posed for you! I gave you dozens of photo references!
Where's my fame!? Where's my spotlight!?
All I see is some bastard named Ren!"
Cavendish gripped the receiver tightly, trembling with fury. His feathered cowboy hat shook with each enraged movement, and the rose in his other hand was crushed to pulp.
The reporter on the other end fell silent, staring at the elegant photos spread across his desk.
Cavendish was indeed a man of rare beauty—golden curls cascading over one eye, aristocratic grace, and the poise of a noble prince.
In fact, he was a prince.
And a skilled swordsman besides.
So when the reporter learned that he'd sunk a Marine battleship, he'd rushed to the scene, persuaded by Cavendish's charm to secure an interview.
Most pirates sought treasure or the Pirate King's throne.
Cavendish, however, desired only fame—to become a superstar idol of the seas.
And under such a motive, the interview had gone perfectly.
By all logic, the reporter's judgment had been sound.
Cavendish's looks, strength, and notoriety as a rising "Supernova" candidate should have guaranteed a front-page story…
If not for the sudden appearance of that man named Ren.
When the reporter received the new directives and saw the new photo set, even he had to admit—it was the right call.
The sheer scale of what Ren had done deserved the world's front page.
The reporter sighed. "There's nothing I can do, Cavendish. Who could've predicted Ren would show up midway?
And compared to what he did, you're just… less dazzling. You should read the article yourself."
Click—
He hung up, leaving Cavendish to scream helplessly into the Den Den Mushi.
Meanwhile, the crew of the Beautiful Pirates snuck glances at the morning paper, curious about the man who had stolen their captain's spotlight.
One look—and their jaws dropped.
['The Undying Angel Returns! Crushing a Warlord—Challenging a Yonko!']
Below the headline was the now-famous photo:
The four-winged angel hovering in midair, golden flames forming a divine throne, thunder raging behind him.
And before that throne—
Lay the fallen Crocodile, his severed head displayed clearly for the world to see.
Across the photo, scrawled in bold handwriting, was a line that sent tremors through the seas:
[Red-Haired Shanks—within three years, I will settle our East Blue grudge. —Ren]
"Oi oi, how bold! He's actually challenging a Yonko? And it's Shanks, no less!"
New World — Dressrosa.
Inside one of the Donquixote Family's lavish villas, the officers gathered around a copy of the paper.
"But why doesn't the photo show his face?"
"Seems like a Devil Fruit user… showing off his power like that, huh?"
"How foolish."
"But he did kill Crocodile. That guy was a Warlord! Our Young Master is one too."
"Ha? You comparing the Young Master to that sand freak? Don't be ridiculous! Crocodile was just playing hero in Alabasta.
Our Young Master is one of the kings of the underworld!"
Their arguments rose in volume—until Trebol, one of the top officers, sniffled and turned toward the villa's pool.
"Ne, ne, Doffy… what do you think?"
Donquixote Doflamingo reclined on a sun chair, a few voluptuous women draped around him, a newspaper in hand.
Behind his wide red sunglasses, his expression was unreadable.
After a long moment, he lowered the paper and smirked.
"Coming back from the dead, huh? Too far-fetched. Most likely, he escaped Shanks' hands with a Devil Fruit ability.
But that sand crocodile wasn't weak. If he killed Crocodile, that means this Ren has real power and potential.
Spread the word—keep an eye on him. Gather every bit of intel you can."
(End of Chapter)