"Doffy... Momonga hasn't withdrawn the North Blue Fleet. What should we do?"
In the Donquixote Family's estate hall, Trebol lowered the Den Den Mushi he had just used, his expression tense with anxiety.
The other officers, too, looked nervously toward their Young Master.
Rubeck Island was under complete lockdown. The pressure of five Marine warships surrounding them was suffocating, and even they felt the weight of that threat.
No one knew the power of the North Blue Fleet better than the Donquixote Family. Darren had poured an enormous fortune into building it, outfitting it with the most advanced technology in the world, modified by Germa 66, and staffed with only elite soldiers.
It was a force forged from a staggering military budget—disciplined, powerful, and utterly precise.
Meanwhile, the Donquixote Family's combat force on Rubeck Island was minimal. Most of their manpower was stationed at other strongholds throughout the North Blue, leaving them vastly outmatched.
"I didn't expect Momonga to move so quickly," Diamante muttered. "We underestimated him. Treated him like just another one of Darren's officers."
Vergo, a chunk of steak still stuck to his cheek, frowned.
"From what our intel says, the North Blue Fleet recently acquired some new tech weapon—one with terrifying destructive power."
Trebol gripped his cane tightly.
"Doffy, are they going to war with us?"
The officers watched Doflamingo, who sat calmly on the leather sofa, silently smoking his cigar.
He crossed his legs, a cold smirk creeping across his lips.
"Relax. As long as Darren's alive, Momonga won't make a move."
"Just do what we need to do."
With that, Doflamingo stood and walked into his study.
He approached the massive window, opened it, and let the cool sea breeze rush against his face, making the feathers of his pink coat flutter.
He understood Momonga's intent.
If Darren was dead, Momonga knew he wouldn't be able to hold him back. All of the North Blue would fall into his hands.
Smart. Decisive. Unflinching.
No wonder that man trusted him the most.
Just for that sharp instinct and judgment, Momonga deserved to be Supreme Commander of the North Blue.
Doflamingo gazed out at the monstrous silhouettes of Marine warships lining the horizon, their white gull flags flapping wildly in the wind.
A vicious grin spread across his face.
"Don't you dare die on me so easily... my dear Godfather."
His eyes gleamed with a mad, burning ambition behind his sunglasses. Thick veins twisted up across his forehead like writhing worms.
"Because the one who's going to kill you... will be me!"
His hands slammed down, shattering the wooden window ledge into splinters.
Clear blue sky. Lazy drifting clouds.
Two Marine battleships sliced swiftly across the calm sea, dragging long white wakes behind them.
At the prow of one stood a broad, commanding figure, gazing at the distant waters with furrowed brows.
It was Sengoku, dispatched from Marineford on a rescue mission.
A thunderous explosion tore into the sky from a distant island. Fire and black smoke surged upward.
Distant screams of pirates reached the sea before being drowned by the waves.
Two seconds later, a beam of golden light streaked from the island.
The light burst apart in midair, scattering into photons that quickly reformed into the silhouette of a tall man.
Borsalino stepped out of the glow, scratching his chin.
"No luck. Just another small outpost. Those grunts didn't know a thing."
Sengoku's brows furrowed even deeper.
"Any leads?" came Zephyr's voice.
In a few flickers of motion, Zephyr appeared at Sengoku's side.
Sengoku rolled his eyes.
"Zephyr, why aren't you on your own damn ship? What are you doing here again?"
"Cut the crap. Share what you've got already," Zephyr snapped. "Or Garp's going to beat us there."
Sengoku sighed heavily and shook his head.
"Nothing. Kaido's more cautious and cunning than we thought. Every pirate base we've hit was just part of his Beast Pirates' outer shell."
"We've got no clue where his real stronghold is."
Zephyr's face darkened.
It had been seven days since they left Marineford.
That sounded like a long time—except three of those days were just getting into the New World.
(At this point in the timeline, Vegapunk had yet to develop the technology to embed Seastone in ship hulls, so Marines couldn't cross the Calm Belt freely.)
To reach the New World from the Paradise half of the Grand Line, Marines had only two options: dive beneath to Fish-Man Island using coating, or apply for World Government clearance to cross the Red Line.
Even after making it through, they'd spent four full days scouring the sea.
They had raided seven or eight outposts, even wiping out a few mid-tier pirate crews.
Still, not a single clue.
Unlike the well-mapped waters of Paradise, the New World was a chaotic maze. Half of it was still cloaked in the fog of war. Navigation was a nightmare.
And the extreme weather made things worse.
The closer they drew to Wano's domain, the more restrained their actions had to be. No more bold raids—every step needed subtlety.
To avoid provoking the nation of Wano, they had to act with extreme caution.
And that only made their mission harder.