“Hachi, let me confirm one more time.”

Davy Jones rose from the barrel and walked step by step toward the bow. “Once we’re on the seafloor—you know how to get to Fishman Island?”

“I really do, Captain,” Hachi said earnestly, blinking. “The seafloor is home for us fishmen. Little fish will tell us the way, and MoMoo knows the road home too.”

In fact, he found it odd that the captain—who looked like he was also of the fishman race—didn’t seem to know this sort of thing.

Among the merfolk and a very small number of fishmen, there are those who can communicate with ordinary fish. Hachi was one of these rare fishmen.

Not only could he talk with fish, but he could also understand, more or less, what even sea beasts like MoMoo were trying to express.

“Good.” Davy Jones gripped the rail, then turned to smile at his crew. “At first, it might be a bit bumpy—so hold on tight.”

Bumpy?

What does that mean?

The crew exchanged puzzled looks.

The moment the words left the captain’s mouth, the Terror Ghost suddenly lurched downward, as if something had yanked it from below.

Creak—crack—

They saw the deck tilt as the sea’s horizon seemed to rise. In an instant, they realized it was because the ship’s stern was lifting, and the bow was pointing down.

Most of the crew went pale, grabbing onto anything within reach.

They never imagined that when the captain said “go,” he meant right now.

Hachi had been holding onto the mast as well, but when he saw the bow of the Terror Ghost cutting into the sea like a knife blade and steadily diving under, he let go.

He even stretched out all six arms in exhilaration and shouted with excitement—a sharp contrast to the shrunken, fearful human crew.

Human joys and sorrows, after all, were not the same.

Davy Jones simply stood at the bow as seawater came at him like a pack of wolves, swallowing him in an instant. Then came half the ship—and finally, the entire Terror Ghost was wrapped in the ocean’s embrace.

Underwater, the three Devil Fruit users—Buggy, Alvida, and Mikita—couldn’t hold their breath for long. Their eyes rolled back as they spewed streams of bubbles, floating upward like three flags.

Kuro, still holding his breath, swam over, grabbed them one by one, and pulled them back.

Then a thunderous rumble came from the bow.

The seawater engulfing the ship suddenly split to either side.

An eerie green glow wrapped around the hull, shutting out the suffocating seawater while supplying a steady flow of fresh oxygen.

This was the Terror Ghost’s latest boon.

Hachi, having enjoyed his brief swim, almost wished it had lasted longer.

Thinking of MoMoo, he quickly went to the rail and peered down. Below the hull, where it met the surrounding sea, was still a bottomless whirlpool.

Calling “MoMoo” several times, he soon saw the sea cow poke its head out of the vortex. Hachi waved happily, then told it to head back.

Alvida, Buggy, and Mikita lay flat on the deck, coughing seawater from their throats before gulping great breaths of air.

Kuro calmly tidied his hair before looking toward the unruffled captain at the bow.

Davy Jones stared forward. Sailing under the sea came naturally to him—after all, the Flying Dutchman could do the same.

The Terror Ghost drew farther from the surface, and the light began to fade.

After descending to a certain depth, the ship could sink no further and continued forward at that level.

Here, they saw mostly ordinary fish; occasionally, a sea beast passed by, but none tried to attack this unfamiliar “prey.”

The Terror Ghost blended into the gray, frigid waters.

A port city in the Kingdom of Arabasta.

“All caught.”

Smoker sat sideways on his motorbike, cigar clenched in his teeth, speaking to a Den Den Mushi mimicking a long-bearded man. “Every surviving member of Baroque Works—big fish, small fry—none escaped.”

“Good,” came Fleet Admiral Sengoku’s voice from the Den Den Mushi. “Then your achievement this time cancels out your earlier insubordination. No problem with that, I trust?”

“Tch.” Smoker was about to reply when Tashigi placed a hand on his shoulder and reached out her other hand for the receiver.

With a grunt, Smoker reluctantly handed over the Den Den Mushi.

“Fleet Admiral Sengoku, both Captain Smoker and I have no objection,” Tashigi said.

Watching as Marines loaded Baroque Works members onto a ship, she added, “But neither of us wishes to take credit for what pirates did.”

“Fools!” Sengoku barked. “Is cleaning up the mess not an achievement? And don’t get me wrong—I never said you were to claim anyone else’s glory. Too many eyes witnessed what happened for such a thing to be believable.”

When they first heard reports that Davy Jones’ black ship had fallen from the sky onto the royal palace, captured the Shichibukai Crocodile, and vanished, they were stunned—unsure whether to believe it.

But as the investigation went on, more and more soldiers confirmed the truth.

Neither Cobra nor Koza could possibly have ordered everyone present to lie.

Soon after, King Cobra and Princess Vivi publicly exposed Crocodile’s plot to plunge Arabasta into civil war.

When the truth came out, the world was in an uproar.

Who could have imagined that the “hero” was the very culprit behind Arabasta’s three-year drought?

And yet, Davy Jones’ crew’s motives became even murkier. Surely they hadn’t done it in the name of justice?

Hina said nothing at this point.

Sengoku sighed on the other end.

“The World Government wants you to locate Davy Jones’ crew and see if they can be brought into the ‘Seven Warlords of the Sea’ program—Davy Jones replacing Crocodile.”

Smoker’s brows drew together in a sharp frown.

He rose halfway from his seat, reaching for the receiver, but Hina stopped him with one hand and walked a few steps away.

Even so, his muttered curses were perfectly audible to Sengoku.

“Let me finish,” the Fleet Admiral said. “I know they’ve killed many Marine officers, and I know they humiliated us at Reverse Mountain. But the Government’s perspective is not ours.”

“If they refuse the title of Warlord, then Davy Jones becomes a pirate with a bounty over 100 million. That would be far worse in terms of influence.”

“If we can bring him under the Government’s banner, have him work for us, then all his past stains can be wiped away.”

“To put it bluntly—has there ever been a Warlord without Marine blood on his hands?”

“I know they’re all schemers—smiling on the surface, plotting underneath. But this is how the World Government maintains balance at sea. We follow orders.”

“Not to mention—this Arabasta affair makes the Navy look bad. We did nothing to prevent the civil war, before or during. That’s… conspicuous.”

“Davy Jones won’t accept the Warlord title,” Hina cut in firmly. “He’s riding high, not like Crocodile or Moria—beaten down by an Emperor. He won’t want it.”

“Just try,” Sengoku said after a pause. “If they won’t compromise… the Warlords, the Admirals—someone will make them compromise.”

After she hung up, Hina walked back to Smoker.

He was silent now, but the discarded cigar at his feet said plenty about his mood.

“The ‘Seven Warlords’ system should be abolished,” Smoker said at last. “Letting them commit piracy under the Government’s name, grow stronger in the process… what if we get another Doflamingo?”

“Don’t speak rashly about the higher-ups’ decisions,” Hina reminded him. “Even among your own troops, there may be Government ears.”

“To hell with that,” Smoker snapped, jumping off his bike and walking away.

Tashigi was overseeing the prisoners’ transfer to the ship. Soon they would be sent to the nearest Marine base for processing.

Once the last prisoner was aboard, she came over—only to see Smoker standing alone at the dock, staring out to sea.

“Captain Hina,” she asked curiously, “what’s wrong with Captain Smoker?”

“He’s just… unhappy. Forced by reality to go against his own principles.” Hina pulled out two cigarettes, offering one to Tashigi.

“I don’t smoke,” Tashigi said awkwardly, adjusting her glasses.

“As a Marine, it’s better if you do,” Hina said, pocketing the spare. “One day you’ll be a Captain, a commodore, a rear admiral, a vice admiral… and the pressure will only get heavier. A lot of things won’t be up to you.”

“Without orders from Marine Headquarters, even if a Yonko or a Warlord is killing and plundering right in front of you—you’ll have to hold back. That’s reality.”

Tashigi looked unsettled, unsure what to say.

Hina didn’t continue. The topic ended there.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep