Darren moved quickly.
After leaving G-5, he hit an Underworld market for a small submarine and an Eternal Pose, then set a course for Fish-Man Island.
He tore the sub's engine out with his bare hands.
The magnetic field he planned to ride would have fried it anyway; better to shed the weight and gain speed.
"Not bad," he murmured, eye to the periscope ten thousand meters down. "The scenery's actually stunning."
Cocooned in steel, he skimmed the seabed, studying its mottled crust. Fissures stitched across it, bleeding a deep red glow that pushed back the dark. Forests of coral bloomed in strange, brilliant shapes. Sleek deep-sea fish slid past in schools—an otherworldly pageant marching through the lens.
His mood lifted.
The sub ghosted by a clutch of underwater volcanoes and into the waters near Fish-Man Island. The fairytale island swam into view, and Darren smiled—then paused, something prickling at the edge of his senses.
"That aura… could it be…?"
An eyebrow rose; a cold smile touched his mouth.
"What a coincidence."
---
Fish-Man Island, Ryugu Palace.
The banquet hall.
A long, carved table groaned under deep-sea delicacies—shellfish sashimi, fist-sized oysters, golden roasts glossed with fat, island wines, platters of rare fish piled high.
The Roger Pirates stared, eyes shining.
Across the seas their name made the world blanch, but only they knew the truth: sailing with Gol D. Roger meant going hungry three times a day. Out on the open water they ate what they could catch; a Sea King roasted over driftwood counted as a "feast." They had never seen a spread like this.
Gulp.
Shanks and Buggy swallowed in unison, turning hopeful eyes on Rayleigh.
"Go on," Rayleigh said with a laugh. "Don't waste His Majesty's generosity."
The crew erupted, falling on the table like starving wolves. Roger stole the show, cramming a half-man slab of roast into his mouth with clownish gusto.
Neptune watched, dumbfounded, lips twitching. So these are the legendary Roger Pirates?
Soon bellies were full, bodies sprawled, the post-feast stupor softening every edge.
"So, King Neptune," Rayleigh said, sipping strong liquor, "what's with Fish-Man Island's sudden high alert?"
Even a fool could see something was off—especially with the king himself guarding the gate.
Neptune hesitated, then spoke. "Shyarly, from Fish-Man District, prophesied recently—'The gate of Fish-Man Island will be breached.'"
"So I reinforced the entrance and took command myself."
The pirates traded looks. The gate, destroyed?
"Your Majesty," Rayleigh asked, doubtful, "you truly put stock in prophecy?"
Neptune sighed. "From anyone else? No. But Shyarly is our most renowned fortune-teller. She has never been wrong. Everything she sees comes to pass."
"Add to that the Sea Kings' sudden, inexplicable aggression in the depths, and you understand why the guards met your ship with spears. It seems, at least, you were not the ones meant to shatter the gate."
At that, every eye slid to Roger.
If Sunbell hadn't been here, they thought, that hot-headed idiot would have smashed it already.
Roger scratched his head and chuckled, sheepish.
Neptune: …
"The Sea Kings' agitation is growing," a young voice said from the doorway.
Heads turned.
A small figure stood there, short black hair veiling her right cheek, a deep violet hooded cloak draped over her shoulders. She looked no older than three or four. Behind her, a dark-blue shark tail swayed. Despite her age, a poise beyond her years lived in her pale face and quiet bearing; the hood only deepened the mystery.
"Shyarly," Neptune said, smiling warmly.
Shyarly?
The Roger Pirates stared, jaws slack.
This tiny mermaid was the seer Neptune had mentioned?
Their eyes slid back to the king, burning with the unspoken Are you serious?
"You actually believe a child's fairy tale?"
But the child's next words, light and guileless, froze the room.
"You came for the Ancient Weapon… Poseidon, didn't you?"
Unease rippled through the crew; expressions tightened.
"Hahaha! Little mermaid, how'd you figure that out?" Roger roared, delighted.
The crew: …
He just admitted it.
Shyarly swam closer, tipped her head back to study the towering pirate, and spoke without blinking. "You're going to die soon."
Neptune sucked in a breath.
The crew went still.
Roger only shrugged and laughed. "That's right. This is my last voyage."
He crouched, gently pinched Shyarly's cheek, and grinned. "So tell me—what is Poseidon, really?"
She stared at him, thrown for a heartbeat by his easy acceptance of death. After a long silence, she shook her head. "You've come too early."
"Poseidon, is the future Mermaid Princess."
"The Sea Kings are agitated because they're welcoming her birth."
The Mermaid Princess… Poseidon?
But—
All eyes swung to Neptune at once.
"Aren't you single?" Roger asked, stroking his beard, peering at Neptune with comic suspicion. "Do fish-men not need marriage to have children?"
Neptune's face darkened.
Rayleigh and the others groaned and covered their faces in embarrassment.
To be continued...