On a certain rocky white island hidden somewhere in the Grand Line.
The entire island seemed as though nature itself had meticulously painted it with the purest white pigment.
Whether it was the towering, chalky mountains, the winding, dusty paths, or every strange, petrified-looking tree, all were uniformly cloaked in a faint, rocky white hue.
Yet, it was hard not to be struck by the profound desolation of this place.
Apart from endless yellow sand dunes and scattered, jagged rocks that looked like the bleached bones of ancient beasts, there was almost no sign of life anywhere.
The air was thick with a dry, stifling atmosphere, as if time itself moved slower here, baked into submission by an unforgiving sun.
The lack of essential resources and the harsh natural conditions made this a place rarely visited by any soul.
But this was, in fact, the heart of a global rebellion, the secret base of the Revolutionary Army—the White Earth Island, Baltigo.
At this moment, the atmosphere inside the sprawling underground fortress was particularly tense.
The leader of the Revolutionary Army, Monkey D. Dragon, the world's most wanted man, sat on a simple wooden chair, gripping a freshly delivered newspaper in his hands.
His brows were furrowed, and his piercing, intense eyes were fixed on the front-page headline, his face was a mask of grim disbelief.
"I never expected it," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very room.
"The Whitebeard Pirates… they actually destroy the Navy Headquarters."
The newspaper detailed, in sensationalist prose, how the pirates had astonishingly destroyed the symbol of Marine power with their overwhelming combat strength—news that was undoubtedly sending shockwaves throughout the entire world.
"So the rumors are true," Dragon continued, a flicker of something akin to admiration in his eyes.
"Whitebeard really has become a Three-Fruit Ability user. His combat power is even more terrifying than before." He knew this meant the old Emperor's strength had reached an unprecedented height, possibly surpassing any previous powerhouse in history.
However, as his gaze shifted to the latter half of the article, his frown deepened into a scowl of pure contempt.
There was no mention of Red Hair Shanks.
Not a single word about his arrival, his plea for peace, or the brief, earth-shattering clash of Emperors.
The entire narrative had been carefully sanitized.
"Hmph. It seems Morgans isn't as bold as I thought," Dragon snorted coldly, his anger directed at the media's compromise.
"Under the combined pressure of the World Government and an Emperor like Red Hair, even the king of news didn't dare to report the full truth."
At the same time, Dragon's eyes also fell upon another figure mentioned repeatedly in the newspaper—Ron, the vice-captain of the Whitebeard Pirates.
A rare, intense desire for talent swelled in his heart.
'What an outstanding young man.'
'A strategist, a scientist, a top-tier swordsman… If only he could be convinced to join the Revolutionary Army.'
He secretly sighed to himself, hoping for a chance to recruit this promising young man under his banner, to fight together against the tyranny of the Celestial Dragons.
Beside him, Koala and the other division commanders were utterly stunned by the news, but for a different reason.
They exchanged confused glances, their eyes filled with bewilderment.
Why was their leader so happy?
"Dragon-san," Koala finally couldn't help but ask, her tone laced with puzzlement.
"I don't understand. It's not like our bounties went up, or we gained a new ally. So why are you so… happy about this?"
Dragon burst into a rare, booming laugh, the sound echoing through the stone room.
His smile seemed infectious, instantly lightening the previously tense atmosphere.
"The reason is simple, Koala," he said, setting the newspaper aside and looking up at his most trusted commanders, his gaze firm and filled with a burning hope.
"This is the greatest opportunity we have ever been given."
He stood and brought out a massive map, spreading it across the table.
He lightly traced his pen over the locations of several countries, his touch lingering on each one.
"With the Marines humiliated on the world stage, their headquarters in ruins, their resources stretched thin, and their pride shattered, now is the perfect time for the Revolutionary Army to expand!" Dragon continued, his voice growing with excitement.
"These countries here, the ones we've been observing for so long, are ripe for liberation. We can take advantage of this moment, overthrow their corrupt regimes, and establish new, free governments!" He jabbed his finger at the map.
"And these! And those! All of them are worth trying now! The world is watching the pirates, not us. We will move in the shadows!"
The group gathered around the map, their eyes shining brighter as they studied the marked nations.
They realized he was right.
This might truly be a golden opportunity to change their fate.
A fierce, revolutionary fighting spirit ignited in each of their hearts.
"There is no time to waste," Dragon's voice rang out again, filled with an iron urgency.
"Set out immediately!"
"Understood!"
"We will complete the mission!"
.....
On a certain stretch of the sea, the grand flamingo-themed ship of the Donquixote Pirates sailed steadily, sunlight glinting off the rippling waves.
Donquixote Doflamingo lounged leisurely on a reclining chair on the deck, a glass of red wine in hand, savoring a rare moment of peace.
A faint trace of unease flickered in his eyes, however, visible only to those who knew him best.
Suddenly, Trebol, dragging his long trail of snot, approached him with a puzzled expression, shattering the tranquility.
"Nee, nee, Doffy," Trebol muttered, eyeing the calm, empty sea around them.
"Did we buy fake intel? I'm starting to doubt the reliability of our informant." His voice dripped with suspicion and irritation.
Diamante, polishing his longsword nearby, also frowned and chimed in.
"Doffy, Trebol is right. I feel like we've been played. The Golden Lion isn't here. He was never here!"
The other executives furrowed their brows as well.
They had been searching these seas for weeks, and their patience was wearing thin.
Bellamy, standing quietly to the side, didn't dare to speak.
He had only just joined the crew after his deal with Ron and he knew many of the executives still resented him for his weakness.
So, at this moment, he kept his words to a minimum, trying not to provoke anyone.
He stood silently, observing the strange power dynamics of this dangerous "family," quietly strategizing how to carve out his own place.
Listening to everyone's complaints, Doflamingo's expression remained oddly calm, a wide, unsettling grin plastered on his face, as if he had long anticipated this outcome.