The question alone was enough to send a chill through every Marine officer present.
No one in that room understood the madness of the Golden Lion better than they did.
He was more than just a Great Pirate. Though Admiral Sengoku had once graciously dubbed him a "legend," the truth was far grimmer—Golden Lion Shiki was a monster. In certain respects, he eclipsed even Roger and Whitebeard. Compared to the likes of Kaido or Big Mom, he was a different breed entirely.
He didn't just disregard human life—he treated it as worthless, pulling the trigger on a whim. Subordinates were tools, expendable and interchangeable. His cruelty was methodical, his decisions ruthless. And during the recent battle at Marineford, the sheer scale of his power and lunacy had been burned into their memories.
Even Whitebeard had limits.
Even Roger had principles.
But Shiki? He had neither.
Wherever he went, carnage followed. Every time his fleet reappeared on the Grand Line, blood soaked the seas.
And now, that same Flying Fleet had returned—spreading chaos across islands, towns, and ports. But not for treasure. Not for supplies.
So what, then?
"What the hell is that bastard after?" Sakazuki growled, voice low and edged with a deadly chill.
Sengoku slowly shook his head. "We don't know yet. His movements are erratic, and his temperament's even more unpredictable. If there's one thing I've learned from years of chasing him..." He hesitated, frowning deeply. "A lot of these attacks might just be a smokescreen."
A smokescreen?
"You mean..." one of the older Vice Admirals leaned forward, his tone cautious, "...he's deliberately targeting unrelated islands to throw off our investigation? Just to mask what he's really after?"
Sengoku nodded grimly. "That's the working theory."
A hush fell over the room. The weight of that possibility pressed down on them like a vice.
Sengoku glanced at Kong, and the two men shared a look—no words exchanged, just mutual understanding.
This is what made the Golden Lion so dangerous.
It wasn't just his overwhelming force. It was his intelligence, his ruthlessness, his refusal to play by any predictable code. He didn't rule a territory or build an empire like the other Rocks remnants—he didn't need to.
Since the God Valley Incident, the survivors of the Rocks Pirates had all carved out their own domains. Ochoku held power over Hachinosu Island. Gloriosa had retreated into the shadows of Amazon Lily. Buckingham dabbled in illegal science and MADS conspiracies.
Big Mom built her confectionary empire, Totto Land.
Kaido seized the fortress of Wano.
Whitebeard claimed the seas as his own.
But none of them inspired the same unease as Shiki.
Every time he surfaced, the Marines found themselves reacting, never leading. He dictated the pace. They followed it.
It was maddening.
"It's like he's searching for something," a calm voice cut through the tension.
All eyes turned to Darren.
He was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, the faintest smirk playing on his lips as he lit a cigar. Kuzan, ever eager, flicked his lighter to help.
Sengoku's lip twitched at the casual scene, but he said nothing.
"You think he's after clues?" he asked instead.
Darren exhaled smoke slowly. "I don't know anything for certain," he said. "But maybe it's worth taking another look at the islands he's been targeting."
He gestured toward the massive simulation table at the center of the room.
Red flags marked the islands and towns Shiki had attacked—sixteen in total, scattered unevenly across the New World.
"Eight of those," Darren began, "places like Rosgu Town, Sleeping Valley, and Rising Sea Island… they're all remote. Poor. Economically irrelevant."
"If Shiki were creating a smokescreen," Darren continued, "why wouldn't he hit high-profile, prosperous targets instead? The more dramatic the deception, the more convincing it becomes, right?"
Kong narrowed his eyes. "So what's your theory, Darren? What do these places have in common?"
There it was—the real reason Kong had placed Darren at his right hand during this top-level strategy session.
Darren had crossed paths with the Golden Lion more than once. And unlike most Marines, he hadn't just fought the man—he had outmaneuvered him. In intellect and insight, Darren was among the few who could stand toe-to-toe with Shiki.
Darren nodded. "There's another common thread besides poverty or isolation," he said. "Every location he's attacked has ties to ancient history and enduring myths."
He pointed toward one of the markers. "Rosgu Town has been haunted by legends of demons for generations."
"Sleeping Valley? That one has a unique geological structure, and records of its existence go back two thousand years."
"Living Sea Island is famous for its strange ocean currents—similar to those around Reverse Mountain. A natural wonder of the New World."
He let that sink in before continuing.
"The rest follow a similar pattern. Forgotten towns, strange terrain, places steeped in local legend... It's like he's digging through the past. Trying to chase down something buried in myth."
Kuzan's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Wow, Darren! How do you even know this stuff?"
Even Sakazuki glanced over, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his usual scowl.
Around the table, officers stared in stunned silence. Darren's breadth of knowledge was... unexpected.
Darren gave them a puzzled look. "Didn't any of you read the supplementary texts from the Marine Training Camp? You know—World Geography and Historical Overview?"
The room collectively flinched.
They had all joined the Marines to fight pirates, not to memorize folklore and geography.
"...I skimmed them."
"Yeah, I mean... we all went through Training Camp."
"Just... haven't reviewed it in a while."
"Totally forgot, honestly..."
"You're amazing, Vice Admiral Darren!"
Their voices were sheepish, their praise more guilty than admiring.
Meanwhile, Garp leaned over to Sengoku and poked him in the ribs. "Oi, Sengoku. Did you know any of this?"
Sengoku bristled. "Of course I did!"
Garp snorted. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
Sengoku: ...
At the far end of the table, Borsalino smirked. "Well, well... So our Great Pirate's abandoned plunder and taken up archaeology instead. Wonder what he's hoping to dig up out there in all that ancient dirt?"
Though his tone was casual, his words carried weight—an edge buried beneath the drawl.
As Borsalino's words echoed, Kong and Sengoku exchanged a glance.
Their expressions didn't change, but their eyes...
Their eyes narrowed, just slightly.
As if an old, buried memory had just clawed its way to the surface.
To be continued...