The next day.
Grand Line—First Half.
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
A warship slid into port, its massive hull casting long shadows over the oval-shaped military dock.
"That's Commodore Tokikake's ship!"
"Salute!"
At the sharp call of a messenger, every patrolling and stationed Marine snapped to attention. Dozens of arms raised in unison, their salute crisp and practiced.
The gangway descended.
Commodore Tokikake strolled down first, hands in his pockets, his gait casual, posture just shy of smug. He waved lazily to the assembled officers, a grin plastered on his face as if he were some beloved celebrity returning from tour.
"Isn't this a bit much? I only went to the New World to gather intel..." he began.
Then he stopped short.
A cluster of elite Marines brushed past him, ignoring him completely as they hurried toward the next figure stepping down the gangway.
"Vice Admiral Darren! You've finally returned!"
"Fleet Admiral Kong, Admiral Sengoku, and the entire top brass are waiting for you in the Military Conference Room."
The leading officer saluted smartly, his voice low and grave.
Darren offered a faint smile. "Sorry to keep them waiting. Lead the way."
"Salute!" the voice rang out once more.
Dozens of salutes went up again—this time, unmistakably for Darren.
Tokikake's eye twitched. He took a step forward and pointed at himself with a weak grin.
"Hey, what about me? Sengoku and the others have to be waiting for me too, right?"
He waved off the guide before they could reply. "Don't worry, I'll head there myself. I drop by the Fleet Admiral's office all the time—I know the way like the back of my hand."
The Commodore glanced at him briefly, his tone turning glacial. "My apologies, Commodore Tokikake. This meeting is restricted to Rear Admirals and above. You are not authorized to attend."
Tokikake stared at him, slack-jawed.
"...I'm still a Commodore, damn it!" he exploded.
The Commodore didn't miss a beat. "Who isn't?"
Tokikake: ...
"Aaaaagh! What the hell is this?!"
Fleet Admiral's Office.
Military Conference Room.
Guided by the Commodore, Darren stepped through the doors and was met with a thick, suffocating silence.
Dozens of high-ranking officers—Rear Admirals and above—sat in their respective seats around the massive oval table. Their eyes, sharp and unflinching, were trained on the war table at the center of the room. The atmosphere was heavy with tension.
Darren, by contrast, seemed untouched by the pressure. A familiar, easy smile tugged at his lips.
"Well, this is quite the gathering," he said lightly.
Fleet Admiral Kong frowned, his face a mask of iron.
Vice Admiral Tsuru's mouth twitched.
Sengoku dragged a hand down his face in exhausted resignation.
The rest remained silent.
"Take your seat, Vice Admiral Darren," Kong said finally. His voice was grave.
"Of course, Fleet Admiral," Darren replied, scanning for an open chair.
"Hey, Darren! Over here!" Kuzan called from the far side of the table, jumping up and waving energetically. "I saved this seat just for your smoke breaks!"
Silence.
Sengoku pressed a hand to his chest as if fighting off heartburn.
"Tempting," Darren said with a grin.
"No," Kong cut in. "Sit next to me. Your input is vital for this meeting."
That made Darren pause—but he gave a small nod and crossed the room, taking the empty seat to Kong's right.
This was Zephyr-sensei's seat, Darren realized at once, glancing around the table.
Fleet Admiral Kong sat at the head. To his left: Admiral Sengoku, followed by Sakazuki, Borsalino, and the rest of the heavy hitters. On the right—where Zephyr once sat—were the staff officers: Tsuru, administrative figures, and the likes of Garp, who drifted in and out of protocol at will.
And now, Darren was sitting directly between Kong and Tsuru.
The moment he settled in, he felt a piercing chill.
"Young Darren," Tsuru began coldly. "I hear you've been enjoying yourself quite thoroughly in the Pleasure District lately?"
Darren froze mid-motion.
He turned slowly toward her. Her gaze was icy, her eyes like scalpels flaying him open without a word.
"Ahem..."
He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting in his seat.
How the hell did she already hear about that?!
That bastard Tokikake definitely ratted me out!
Thank God Gion's only a Headquarters Commodore. She's not eligible to be here...
Just as Darren began to weigh excuses, Fleet Admiral Kong tapped the table with a thick knuckle. The room fell silent.
"All personnel present," he said. His voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Everything discussed here is classified top-tier military intelligence. Leaks will be punished without mercy."
"Yes, Fleet Admiral Kong!"
The response came in unison.
"Good," Kong said. He turned to Sengoku. "Begin."
Sengoku rose, all solemnity and presence, and gestured to the massive screen behind him.
With a flick of his hand, visuals from a Visual Den Den Mushi snapped into view—violent footage played across the display.
Scenes of devastation.
Towns reduced to rubble. Islands scorched and razed. Refugees fleeing in droves. Corpses scattered across bloodied earth.
Sengoku's voice was low, steady, and heavy with meaning.
"Several days ago, the legendary pirate known as the Golden Lion—Shiki—resurfaced."
"He's reconstructed a massive Flying Fleet. Tens of thousands of crew. At least thirty ships. And he's launched a new campaign of terror across the New World."
"His forces are slaughtering civilians and laying waste to entire islands."
A grim murmur swept the room.
"But here's what's unusual," Sengoku continued. "Our analysis shows that most of the places he attacked were not wealthy. In fact, many were impoverished or strategically irrelevant."
"Even stranger: there was no looting."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"No wealth. No resources taken. Just fire and blood."
"Which means," Sengoku concluded, his voice like stone, "Golden Lion Shiki isn't in it for treasure."
The officers exchanged alarmed glances.
A pirate crew that large doesn't move without purpose. And if they weren't plundering...
Then what exactly was Shiki hunting?
To be continued...