The Terror Ghost sailed ceaselessly, shifting between the sea’s surface and its depths, though it spent most of its time above the waves.

After about a week of sailing, under Porche’s guidance, the Terror Ghost finally reached the waters near the fabled “Water 7.”

From afar, everyone aboard could see the massive sea-borne city. Like a colossal fountain, it had countless channels gushing seawater in every direction.

“Speaking of Water 7,” Porche began explaining to the crew, “its defining traits are: master shipwrights, a city built on water, the Sea Train, and… the Aqua Laguna.”

“W-wait a second,” Mikita stammered, nervously tilting her little parasol to the other shoulder, “I get the first few parts, but what’s this last one—the Aqua Laguna?”

“Once a year, Water 7 is struck by an enormous tidal wave that floods the outer districts. When that happens, citizens retreat to the inner city for safety. But relax—what are the odds that the Aqua Laguna would strike right now, the moment we’ve just arrived?”

“You’re right… ahahaha…” Mikita gave another one of her trademark fake laughs.

Gazing at the grand city before them, Davy Jones spoke calmly:

“Find us a place to dock. As planned, you’ll go ashore and handle your assigned tasks.”

“Yes, Captain,” the crew replied in unison.

The Terror Ghost turned toward a nearby harbor.

The port was bustling with people. Yet, when they noticed the looming black ship, its Jolly Roger emblazoned with terror, they merely cast a few curious glances before returning to their own affairs. They didn’t even bother to identify which pirate crew it belonged to.

Such was the strange reality of Water 7.

Pirates could dock openly, hire shipwrights for repairs or upgrades, and as long as they could pay, the craftsmen would even keep their whereabouts hidden.

Meanwhile, though the Navy knew well how many pirates gathered here—and despite Enies Lobby standing not far away—they largely turned a blind eye.

Once the Terror Ghost secured a berth at a corner of the port, the crew disembarked. Their first order of business was to exchange the treasure seized from the Foxy Pirates for cash, then split into groups to purchase essential supplies.

Before long, the ship’s deck was empty.

After some time, the stirring tones of a pipe organ echoed from the captain’s quarters—an awe-inspiring melody that surged like waves, as if Davy Jones alone were challenging the grandeur of an entire symphony orchestra.

Half an hour later…

Law emerged from the storeroom, climbing the ladder while listening to the music that stirred his emotions.

Behind him came Crocodile, his body still wrapped in bandages.

Together, they ascended to the deck, then navigated the ship’s labyrinthine corridors—so complex it had taken Law nearly three days just to memorize the routes.

At last, they reached the captain’s door.

No other crew were in sight. It seemed only Davy Jones, Law, and Crocodile remained aboard.

That suited Law well—Crocodile would never want to bend the knee under the eyes of others.

Law knocked lightly. Crocodile stood silently beside him.

The organ music did not cease. With a groan, the barnacle-and-seaweed-encrusted door opened of its own accord.

Law removed his hat, clutching it along with his cursed blade “Kikoku” in one hand, and stepped inside.

Crocodile hesitated, frowning deeply before letting out a quiet sigh, then followed.

“Captain, I spoke with Crocodile the day before yesterday. Today, he’s decided to come speak with you himself.”

Still leaning against the organ, fingers and tentacles pressing keys while his legs worked the pedals, Davy Jones answered in a voice as deep as the sea:

“I already know.”

He knows?!

A chill prickled down Crocodile’s spine, the unsettling sensation of being watched. Law, however, took it in stride.

Of course he knows.

Law had long since realized the ship’s eerie nature. “The walls have ears” was far too weak an expression—the entire Terror Ghost itself was Davy Jones’s ear.

The organ thundered one last time before the Captain finally stopped, though the reverberations lingered through the vast, palace-like chamber.

“Law, you’ve done well.”

Turning, Davy Jones fixed his gaze on Crocodile.

“As for the two of you, your desires are clear enough. One seeks ‘Heavenly Yaksha’ Doflamingo. The other—’Whitebeard’ Edward Newgate.”

His tone was casual, almost dismissive—yet carried the weight of a hunter naming his prey. For that was precisely what they had become.

Crocodile drew breath to speak—but before he could, a commotion rose outside, cutting him off.

“Hey—!”

By sheer coincidence, another pirate ship had just docked nearby.

Its Jolly Roger bore a skull with a straw hat. The ship’s figurehead was a smiling sheep.

It was the Going Merry.

Monkey D. Luffy gripped the rail with both hands, practically bouncing with excitement to set foot in Water 7.

“Oi, Luffy.”

Roronoa Zoro called him, pointing toward the black ship docked nearby.

“Look. That ship.”

“Huh?” Luffy tilted his head, squinting at the vessel. After staring for a long moment, his eyes suddenly widened.

His usual carefree grin vanished, replaced by uncharacteristic seriousness.

“Zoro… I’m going over there.”

“I’m coming too,” Zoro declared without hesitation.

“What’s going on, what’s going on?”

Tony Tony Chopper craned his neck, staring up at his captain and first mate. They only ever wore expressions like this when facing a truly formidable enemy. The reindeer-doctor’s heart thudded anxiously.

Chopper had the small body of a reindeer, but could stand upright like a human and study medicine. All this was thanks to the Zoan-type Human-Human Fruit he had eaten. For a human, it would have been useless—a curse granting only the inability to swim. But for a reindeer, it was transformative. It gave him human speech, thought, and form.

But every other crewmember, aside from Chopper, already understood why Luffy and Zoro’s faces had hardened.

During that stormy battle back in the East Blue, Nami and Usopp had been present. They had seen with their own eyes as both Luffy and Zoro were defeated—one by the “Lord of the Deep” Davy Jones, the other by “Hawkeye” Mihawk.

Since then, they had faced many enemies together. But never again had they been so utterly crushed.

The memory of that day—the sting of that humiliating defeat—remained etched in their hearts.

Davy Jones and Mihawk’s existence had become a driving force, pushing Luffy and Zoro to break past their limits. They would never forget.

Even Luffy, ever-optimistic, had never been able to truly put that loss behind him.

Nami and Usopp, meanwhile, were torn.

If Luffy confronted Davy Jones again, a battle was inevitable. They wanted Luffy to win, yet also dreaded the clash—for Davy Jones had once helped them, by crushing both Arlong’s crew and the Black Cat Pirates.

Robin, too, watched the dark ship with conflicted eyes. She could not forget how it had come crashing down from the heavens, ruining Crocodile’s grand designs in Arabasta.

She had seized the chaos of that moment to slip away, traveling to the royal tomb to read the Poneglyph there before disappearing.

Now, she needed more chances—more Poneglyphs—to piece together history. As always, she had changed allegiances with calculated ease, placing her bet on the Straw Hats, certain they would one day reach the New World.

Yet she had not expected to meet Davy Jones’s crew again—outside of the newspapers.

She kept her expression neutral, feigning ignorance. Opening a book, she pretended to read, though her eyes did not take in a single word. She was listening, her mind turning over the possibilities.

Luffy and Zoro were already moving toward the Terror Ghost. Nami and Usopp rushed to stop them, but Sanji held them back.

“Nami-swan, let them go.” Sanji lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke.

“This is a fight between men. There’s no way Luffy and Zoro would ever back down.”

And not only them—Sanji himself trailed after his captain and swordsman.

Nami pinched her brow, thinking hard. Finally, she sighed.

“Usopp, Chopper, Robin—let’s follow them.”

The Straw Hat crew might shrink from battle at times. But now that their three strongest fighters were walking into the lion’s den, the least they could do was stand behind them.

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