Commodore Cray swept his gaze across the dense jungle once more, brows drawn into a sharp furrow. He turned and issued brisk orders to the officers behind him.
"Each of you take a squad of soldiers. Split up and search. There aren't many of them."
He paused, then added with a warning tone:
"But be careful. Intelligence on this island suggests it's a primordial zone—there are still beasts from the ancient era."
Captain Wazz adjusted the dark sunglasses covering half his face and yawned lazily.
"Rumor has it there are giants here. Whether that's true or not, we should move in groups of at least thirty to fifty."
"Hai!"
The officers standing behind Commodore Cray and Captain Wazz all bowed in response.
Then, each led their own men into the dense forest to begin their sweep inland.
In an instant, the once-busy shore was nearly deserted. Only about a hundred Marines remained stationed on the two docked battleships, with a dozen others patrolling the shoreline.
That left just Cray and Wazz standing alone on the beach.
...
"Warla, what do you think the Marines are doing on this godforsaken island?"
"Who knows? Maybe they're here for some juicy dinosaur meat."
"Tch, is food all you ever think about?"
"Okay, fine, then maybe it's for the dino hides?"
"Idiot. Can you try using that brain of yours for once?"
"Hey, that's assuming he has one!"
"..."
Somewhere deeper in the jungle, a broad-shouldered man crouched in the brush, peering through a pair of binoculars as he watched the Marines' movements from afar.
Behind him, hidden amid tall grass and rocks, a dozen others lay in wait. Their whispered chatter passed between them in hushed tones.
Their clothes were mismatched, and their appearances even more peculiar—not exactly ugly, but... when grouped together, they gave off an undeniably bizarre vibe.
"What are the Marines up to?"
At that moment, another group arrived—led by Pierre of Gorbo's Third Division, accompanied by Aeridar and the others.
They, too, crouched into the foliage and raised their binoculars.
"Captain, First Mate."
"The Marines split into five or six teams and disappeared into the jungle. Seems like they're searching for something."
"Captain, I suggested maybe they're here for tasty dino meat, but nobody agreed with me."
"Idiot. Shut up."
"..."
Aeridar and Arlan both facepalmed at their team's banter. Still, they got the intel they came for.
Ever since arriving in the world of One Piece, Aeridar had treated it as a real world, no different from his own.
But now—watching this circus unfold—he was struck with a strange, jarring clarity.
This was a 2D world.
A world where any kind of lunatic could exist.
A full-blown anime madhouse.
Back at the beach, with the lower-ranked officers gone and boredom settling in, Captain Wazz tilted his head toward Cray and struck up a conversation.
"So Cray, I heard you were part of the Grand Fleet Expedition. How was the New World?"
"'Fun?'" Cray's brow lifted as he turned to look at Wazz. His voice was cold when he finally spoke:
"Is that what you think justice is?"
"Ugh... okay, fine. My bad." Wazz waved him off with a resigned chuckle, then smirked as he jabbed, "Oh no—my mistake, Commodore Cray. Guess someone got a promotion out of it."
Cray's expression didn't change, but his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"Our Third Fleet encountered Jack the Drought—one of the three All-Stars under Kaido of the Beasts. It was brutal. Our ship was sunk. Of the 763 Marines on board… fewer than ten survived."
Though his voice was level, his hands told a different story—shaking slightly, knuckles white.
"I thought Admiral Aokiji was in command of the Third Fleet?" Wazz muttered, scratching his head. "Jack... yeah, he's captain of the Mammoth, right? One of Kaido's top dogs. Figures."
"That bastard's insane." Cray's face darkened at the mention of Jack.
"He knew damn well the other two fleets were nearby, but he still launched a suicidal assault. We were caught completely off guard. If Admiral Aokiji hadn't stepped in to hold him off... it would've been a total massacre."
"So, you got injured and pulled back?" Wazz guessed.
"Yeah. The wounds weren't fatal, but with my entire unit practically wiped out, I was reassigned to assist the Sweep Fleet in rooting out pirates in the first half of the Grand Line."
Cray's normally stone-hewn face sagged with weariness.
"To think even the Grand Fleet—the force that puts Buster Calls to shame—took such a beating in just six months," Wazz muttered, frowning deeply behind his sunglasses.
"The Four Emperors have grown too powerful, too quickly," Cray said, sighing.
"Add in the old monsters like the Vinsmoke Family, the Happo Navy, Patrick Redfield, the Revolutionary Army's Dragon, the lurking Golden Lion, and new powers like Gild Tesoro... it's a tidal wave of pirate strength. The Navy's struggling to keep up."
"By that logic, the Grand Fleet might return with nothing to show for it..." Wazz murmured. The situation was far more dire than he'd imagined.
Cray's expression turned grim. His voice dropped a pitch.
"Admiral Kizaru, initially a backup, is now practically stationed full-time at G-5 in the New World. At this point, we're just trying to minimize the damage."
"Man... never thought I'd see the day when all three Admirals are deployed to the New World."
Then—
A new voice cut through the air from nearby.
"Ohhh? Sounds like things in the New World are rough, huh? Kinda makes me not wanna go there at all."
"Who's there?!"
Cray and Wazz immediately spun toward the voice, alarmed.
Even the patrolling Marines nearby and those guarding the ship were startled.
Dozens of rifles snapped up in unison, all aimed toward the source of the sound.
A man emerged from the jungle. Young, with a carefree smile.
He wore a dark coat patterned with white waves, open to reveal his bare chest. Gold rings hung from his ears.
Nothing about him screamed 'danger'—and yet, every Marine present felt a chill crawl up their spine.
An animalistic dread. Like being stared down by a predator.
"Stop right there! Identify yourself!" Cray barked.
Sweat beaded on the Marines' foreheads despite their weapons being trained squarely on the man.
"You're not wrong, Captain," the man said, cocking his head and grinning slyly.
"The chaos in the New World will only accelerate the dawn of a new era. Eventually, the Navy, the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and the Four Emperors will form the three pillars that hold up this so-called 'peace.'"
He chuckled darkly.
"The only question is—how long will that peace last? Hehehe…"
"Spare me the prophetic nonsense. You think you can see the future?" Cray snapped.
"Who the hell are you?" Wazz's tone was sharp. His hand had already drifted to the hilt of the katana strapped to his back.
"Hahaha... my bad!" the man laughed, scratching the back of his head. Then, with a sudden shift to polite formality, he gave a slight bow and smiled.
"Allow me to introduce myself... I'm Chris T. Aeridar. And yes—"
His eyes gleamed as he raised his head.
"I'm a pirate."
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