A boundless abyss stretched before them, cloaked in a darkness so complete it felt alive.
"So this is the Deep Sea..." Darren murmured, standing at the prow of the lead warship. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, his eyes gleaming with quiet interest as he took in the surreal world unfolding around them.
Each of the ten battleships was enveloped in a transparent coating bubble, gliding silently in formation like phantoms. The silence was uncanny—oppressive, unnatural—broken only by the distant rumble of shifting currents and the occasional guttural cry of something massive and unseen, slithering just beyond the edge of vision.
Every so often, a searchlight swept across the seabed, revealing fleeting glimpses of jagged reefs, clusters of bioluminescent coral, and shadowy leviathans lurking in the gloom.
Here, in this lightless, crushing void, even the most seasoned soldier would feel a cold hand wrap around their spine.
"Never been coated like this before?" Sengoku's voice came from behind, laced with a smirk.
Darren glanced over his shoulder. "That's right, Admiral Sengoku. I've never had the opportunity."
"Since I left the North Blue, you've overseen every mission I've taken on. None of them required this kind of approach."
"Back there," he added dryly, "we solved most problems by hitting them until they stopped moving."
Sengoku chuckled, smug. "Then you're in for a rare treat."
He stepped forward and pressed a hand against the transparent film. "Our coating technology is the best in the world. The pressure down here would crush most ships like eggshells—but Marine Headquarters has mastered this technique."
He slapped the surface. "Even ten thousand meters deep, no cracks. That's the difference between us... and the pirates."
His braided beard bristled proudly.
"I see..." Darren nodded, then tilted his head slightly. "But why choose this method of infiltration at all?"
Sengoku gave a dry laugh. "Still green, huh?"
He laced his hands behind his back, assuming the role of instructor.
"Golden Lion may be arrogant, but he's no fool. If we sailed ten battleships into the New World above sea level, we'd be spotted instantly. The pirate crews, criminal syndicates, revolutionaries... word would travel fast."
"By the time we reached Edd War, he'd be long gone—or worse, waiting for us fully prepared. This way, we surface only when the moment's right."
Darren nodded, deeply impressed. "Admiral Sengoku's strategic foresight is truly awe-inspiring."
Sengoku gave him a sideways glance, uncertain whether he was being praised... or mocked.
Still, he continued. "Of course, you're the one in command here. I won't overstep."
"But tell me—if it were you, how would you sneak an entire fleet into the New World undetected?"
Darren shrugged. "I'd fly."
Sengoku stared.
"…You can fly. The fleet can't."
"True," Darren replied calmly. "But with enough budget, we could reinforce the ships—lightweight frames, metallic layers. I could handle the rest."
"With some effort, I could get ten ships airborne."
Sengoku's face darkened. His fists clenched.
"Headquarters is in a financial crisis! Where do you think we're going to find the budget for flying warships?!"
Darren let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "That's a shame."
"But really... has Marine Headquarters ever not been broke?"
Sengoku: …
His face turned an alarming shade of crimson.
But instead of lashing out at Darren, he spun on his heel and exploded at someone else entirely:
"Borsalino! You lazy bastard! Is that a beach chair?! What are you even tanning under?! WE'RE IN THE DEEP SEA!"
Across the deck, Borsalino sipped from a tall glass of watermelon juice, completely unfazed. "I'm not tanning, Admiral Sengoku. I just felt like lying down."
Sengoku: …
Clutching his chest like a man under cardiac arrest, Sengoku stormed off toward the cabin, muttering curses under his breath.
Once the door closed behind him, Darren's smile returned. He slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a secure Military Den Den Mushi, dialing a memorized number.
"Did he show up?" Darren asked as the line connected.
A low chuckle answered him. "Yeah. In and out."
"You're a stingy bastard, you know," the voice added.
Darren shrugged, still grinning. "It's not my fault his imagination's so limited."
The voice turned serious. "You sure about this?"
Darren stared into the darkness ahead, the silent sea pressing in from all sides. A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.
"They brought this war to our doorstep," he said softly. "Backing down now would be laughable."
"During the Marineford siege… if that meteor had fallen just a little to the left, it would've crushed Toki."
A long silence followed.
Then the voice replied, calm and absolute. "Revenge suits you."
"If you're moving, I won't stop you."
"I'll be waiting in the North Blue."
"Understood."
Click.
Darren closed the Den Den Mushi and slipped it away.
The pressure around them was shifting. He could feel it in his bones—the vessel slowly rising, pushing toward the surface. The silence was breaking. The air ahead tasted of salt and storm.
He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the faint shimmer of wind and rain breaking through the upper layers of the ocean.
"The Battle of Edd War, huh...?"
His smirk returned.
"This time... neither of you will be the ones commanding the board."
To be continued...