Yemu's eyes lit up instantly. Without hesitation, he wiped the food from his mouth, rushed back to the cabin for a telescope, then leapt up to the top of the mast, peering in the direction Enel had pointed.
Within minutes, a massive, luxurious warship appeared on the horizon.
It was easily ten times the size of the Twin Goddesses. A golden dragon head adorned the bow, and enormous sails bearing the Marine emblem billowed in the wind as the ship headed straight toward them.
Through the telescope, Yemu saw that the enormous deck was filled with Marines wearing coats emblazoned with "Justice." At the center, guarded by four men in black suits, sat a grotesquely obese man, his face hidden under a transparent dome. He lounged atop a red-skinned Fishman slave.
"What the hell..."
Yemu took a deep breath and jumped down from the mast.
He said nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes, inhaling the sea air slowly and deliberately.
Enel glanced over, noticing the odd change in Yemu's mood. Concerned, he asked,
"What's wrong, Yemu... Is there something weird about that ship?"
"No..."
Yemu replied quietly. He opened his eyes again, took another deep breath, then asked,
"Enel, do you smell it?"
"Eh? Smell what...?"
Enel looked confused. Aside from the usual salty sea breeze, there was nothing unusual in the air.
But Yemu's next words left him completely dumbfounded.
"The scent of fate... Destiny is calling to us."
"Eh?!"
"Hahahahahahaha...!"
Yemu visibly lit up with excitement...
...
On the deck of the enormous Marine warship...
Gasparde, a Rear Admiral of Marine Headquarters, stood tall and broad-shouldered. With golden, wavy hair and a cigar clenched between his teeth, he stared with disdain toward the bow, where four CP9 agents stood.
In the Marines, once you reached Rear Admiral rank, you were entitled to your own warship and crew.
This vessel? It was Gasparde's.
Their original orders had been to travel to Mahebasi, a World Government member nation in the West Blue, and escort ships carrying Heavenly Tribute to Mary Geoise.
But just before departure, they were hit with a new directive from Marine Headquarters—escort a Celestial Dragon to Reverse Mountain.
And so those four CP9 agents brought a Celestial Dragon aboard, along with his Fishman slave. They promptly took control of Gasparde's ship, issuing orders to his crew like they owned the place.
When it came to Celestial Dragons, Gasparde didn't dare complain. He wouldn't even dare to think it. But those four bootlickers? That was a different story.
Still, these were extraordinary times. Just two weeks ago, a Celestial Dragon wouldn't have dared travel without heavy protection. Leaving the Holy Land of Mary Geoise without at least a Vice Admiral was unthinkable. Now, he was accompanied by nothing but a Rear Admiral.
Why? Because two major incidents had just rocked the world.
First, Gol D. Roger—the Pirate King—had been captured. The World Government had announced they would execute him publicly in Loguetown within the month.
Second, the Flying Pirate Admiral, Shiki, had launched a surprise attack on Marine Headquarters. The battle had left countless Marines dead and reduced half the base to rubble.
The aftermath left the Marines in a deep manpower crisis.
And right in the middle of that chaos, a Celestial Dragon demanded to leave Mary Geoise and travel to Loguetown to witness Roger's execution in person. Even more absurd—the Five Elders actually approved it.
Fleet Admiral Kong had no choice but to assign the Celestial Dragon to travel with the Marines escorting the Heavenly Tribute.
Fortunately, they only needed to get him as far as Reverse Mountain. Another warship would take over from there.
At full speed, they should arrive in five days.
Just as Gasparde was lost in thought, a Marine quietly approached and whispered nervously,
"Rear Admiral Gasparde..."
"What is it?"
"A pirate ship just entered our observation range, but it vanished quickly. Should we raise the alert?"
No wonder the Marine looked so nervous—there was a Celestial Dragon on board! If anything went wrong, everyone would be in deep trouble.
"Which pirate crew was it?" Gasparde asked.
"It's not listed in our records. Probably a newly-emerged crew."
"I see." Gasparde wasn't surprised. In a world overflowing with pirates, it was impossible for the Marines to have every ship on record.
"Maintain current speed. Keep moving forward..."
"Understood..."
But just then, a gunshot cracked through the quiet deck.
Gasparde flinched, but quickly regained his composure.
At the bow of the ship stood a green-haired, obese Celestial Dragon holding a jewel-studded pistol, smoke still curling from the barrel.
His target was a large, red-skinned fishman. Shackles were locked around his ankles, a collar clamped around his neck. His body was covered in scars and bandages, and he was crouched like a dog, clutching his bleeding shoulder in pain.
Despite the gushing wound, the fishman didn't dare let the Celestial Dragon fall from his back.
But the green-haired Celestial Dragon still looked displeased.
"Useless thing. Can't even stay steady."
He turned to the CP9 agent beside him.
"I'm bored of this fishman. When we get back, sell him off as a common slave."
"Yes, Saint Mjosgard-sama!"
"Should've brought more slaves when I left!"
Saint Mjosgard snarled as he kicked the fishman's wounded shoulder repeatedly.
"So frustrating. I've trained him this long, and he still can't sit properly. What a disgrace..."
The fishman could only endure the blows in silence, tears of humiliation welling in his eyes.
And this wasn't the first time. The layers of bandages and the scars visible on his exposed skin made it clear just how he'd been treated.
Some Marines looked on, unable to suppress their guilt—but most were simply afraid.
To them, fishmen were lowly creatures, unworthy of sympathy. What they truly feared was the wrath of a Celestial Dragon.
Gasparde was no exception...
Seeing some Marines still frozen in place, he snapped at them irritably.
"What are you staring at? Get back to work..."
"Y-yes... right away..."
Snapping out of their stupor, the Marines quickly tried to flee the scene—when suddenly, a strange voice rang out across the deck.
"Hey. Aren't you the so-called Marines who represent justice? Then why are you standing by, watching someone commit a crime, without punishing them?"
...
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