When the reconnaissance aircraft suspected of belonging to the mysterious World Government slowly passed over the seemingly lifeless region, there was little for it to see beyond a barren desert swallowed by a raging sandstorm.
Ferocious winds swept countless tons of yellow sand across the land, burying everything beneath a churning haze. Visibility had fallen almost to nothing, leaving the entire region submerged in chaos.
Yet beneath that apparently dead landscape, another world was still very much alive.
Deep underground, Baltigo was carrying out an operation that would determine whether the Revolutionary Army survived.
Everything the organization considered its most vital "heart"—its intelligence, research, weapons, personnel, and accumulated strength—was quietly being fed through an underground network stretching outward like the veins of a living body.
Those hidden passages served as lifelines, carrying the Revolutionary Army's most precious assets away from Baltigo and toward an uncertain future.
At the same time, inside a secluded cavern along a distant stretch of coastline, vessels sent by the Eternal Divine Kingdom were already waiting.
They sat motionless in the darkness like enormous beasts lying in ambush.
When the first specially reinforced container was lifted by a massive crane and slowly lowered into one of the ships' cavernous holds, the Revolutionary Army operative supervising the handover happened to meet the eyes of the Divine Kingdom officer receiving it.
Neither man spoke.
They simply exchanged a small nod.
That brief gesture conveyed everything that needed to be said—trust, expectation, and the determination to see this alliance through.
There were no cheers.
No emotional farewells.
The entire transfer proceeded in solemn silence.
Beneath the thick sands of Baltigo, an era that had once burned with passion and revolutionary ambition was quietly coming to an end.
Like the last light of a setting sun, it had illuminated the Revolutionary Army's path for years.
Now its time was over.
...
One hundred and fifty meters beneath the surface of the sea lay a world entirely cut off from everything above.
Sunlight could no longer reach this depth.
Only darkness and profound silence remained.
Several enormous submersible transport vessels moved quietly through the cold water like prehistoric creatures gliding through an ancient abyss.
Their designs bore little resemblance to any known Marine warship.
The outer hulls were covered with specialized sound-dampening tiles designed to absorb and scatter acoustic waves, reducing engine noise to an absolute minimum.
Their signatures blended almost perfectly with the natural background noise of the deep ocean.
They traveled like ghosts through the darkness.
Among them was the Deep Sea Ghost.
Its command room was almost unnaturally quiet.
Dim blue lights flickered across the instrument panels like distant stars, barely illuminating the faces of the operators seated at their stations. Even their commands were spoken in deliberately lowered voices, turning the bridge into a chamber filled with tense whispers.
"Maintain depth. Keep the current heading."
A veteran operator watched the instruments intently as he delivered the order in a steady voice.
"Sonar sweep clear. No tracking signals detected."
The report allowed everyone to relax slightly, but no one truly lowered their guard.
Ivankov stood beside a reinforced observation window.
Normally, his unmistakable face was filled with confidence, theatrical enthusiasm, or exaggerated expressions.
Now there was none of that.
His expression was completely serious.
He stared through the thick glass into the absolute darkness beyond, as though trying to see through the endless black water and uncover whatever might be hiding within it.
One finger tapped unconsciously against the armrest beside him.
The faint vibration of the vessel traveled through the cold metal beneath his palm, constantly reminding him of the weight of this voyage.
This was not simply a transfer of personnel and equipment.
The future of the Revolutionary Army itself was traveling aboard these ships.
...
The atmosphere inside the residential compartment amidships was no less oppressive.
No natural light penetrated this far into the vessel.
Cold metal walls reflected the dim yellow glow from the overhead lamps, making the enclosed space feel even more confined.
Rows of hammocks had been arranged with military precision.
The people occupying them were not resting comfortably.
They were revolutionaries carrying equal measures of determination and uncertainty.
Several younger core members sat quietly on their bunks.
Some carefully cleaned their weapons with soft cloths, treating them with the attention one might give to something irreplaceable.
Others sat beneath small reading lamps and turned through notebooks containing the contact details of comrades and informants.
Familiar names and handwriting filled the yellowed pages, carrying years of memories and relationships.
Eventually, each notebook was closed.
Then, with visible reluctance, it was placed into a designated destruction bag.
Their eyes remained bright and sharp with the energy of youth.
But beneath that determination lay uncertainty about what awaited them.
These men and women had been selected from countless candidates.
They were seeds carefully preserved for the future.
The Revolutionary Army had placed enormous hopes upon them, trusting that they would survive, continue the struggle, and help shape whatever new world eventually emerged.
...
Farther below, the cargo hold resembled a treasury hidden in darkness.
Rows of heavy alloy containers stood in precise formation, each secured firmly in place so that even the movements of the submarine could not shift them.
They looked almost like small metal fortresses.
And inside them rested the accumulated secrets, weapons, knowledge, and hopes of a revolution that had spent years preparing to change the world.
...
The contents of those alloy containers were anything but ordinary.
They held mountains of Berries, gleaming stacks of gold, and valuable currencies collected from kingdoms across the world, each carrying the history and culture of the land that had minted it. Taken together, the wealth stored here was enough to sustain a prolonged war.
Every coin represented more than simple monetary value. It was a reserve of power, resources, and years of preparation.
Beside the containers filled with wealth stood neatly arranged weapon racks.
The equipment displayed there was nothing like the standardized arms carried by ordinary soldiers.
These were prototypes independently designed and developed by the Revolutionary Army's engineering divisions after years of experimentation.
Some possessed astonishing accuracy.
Others relied on unconventional methods of releasing energy.
Every weapon reflected countless hours of research, failed trials, modifications, and refinement. From intricate mechanical structures to complex energy circuits, there was something distinctly different about every one of them.
Then the shipwide communication system came to life.
The captain's calm voice echoed through the compartments.
"Attention, everyone. We have officially entered the territorial waters claimed by the Eternal Divine Kingdom."
A brief pause followed.
"Remain alert. We're approaching the next stage of our journey."
His voice remained steady.
"Prepare yourselves. We'll begin surfacing shortly—and meet the dawn of our new beginning."
The announcement carried through the silent vessel like the sound of a horn.
No one cheered.
Yet an unmistakable excitement quietly spread through the compartments.
Everyone aboard understood how important this moment was.
Their eyes hardened with resolve.
Ivankov drew in a long breath, as though taking the tension and anticipation filling the ship into his lungs.
Then, at last, his familiar wild grin returned.
"Hee-haw! A brand-new stage is waiting for us ahead!"
His booming voice immediately shattered the solemn atmosphere.
"Once we're inside the Divine Kingdom, we'll finally have room to really make some noise!"
The enormous submarines continued forward like silent whales.
They carried the last embers of a grand ideal, together with the tremendous strength the Revolutionary Army had accumulated over many years.
Through the dark depths they traveled, unwaveringly heading toward the waters people had increasingly begun calling the land of hope.
The vast ocean around them remained silent, almost like a witness to history quietly observing this migration and recording the dreams being carried within it.
There had been no grand farewell ceremony.
No deafening drums.
No impassioned speech delivered before cheering crowds.
There was only disciplined silence and absolute execution.
Every Revolutionary Army soldier understood exactly what they were experiencing.
This was not merely a relocation.
They were saying farewell to an era that had already become part of the past.
And then, without hesitation, they were heading toward an unknown road filled with danger—
but also with possibilities greater than anything they had known before.
...
The sky was still dark in the final hours before dawn.
Dense sea fog spread across the water like a veil, hiding the world beneath a layer of pale gray.
Within that quiet, oppressive mist, the last transport ship slowly departed from port.
It carried countless hopes, missions, and secrets with it.
Its silhouette gradually faded deeper into the fog until it disappeared completely.
At almost the same time, the final messenger News Coo beat its wings and climbed into the sky.
It grew smaller and smaller until it became little more than a black speck against the distant horizon, finally vanishing into the endless expanse above.
For years, the Revolutionary Army had painstakingly established an enormous network across the seas.
Its hidden bases had been scattered throughout the world like stars.
Some had once been bustling with activity, filled with agents, soldiers, supplies, and intelligence passing constantly through their doors.
Now those same places were quietly emptying.
One after another, they withdrew with the order and inevitability of the receding tide.
Buildings that had once been full of life were reduced to silent shells.
They stood abandoned, stripped of their purpose, carrying only traces of the people who had once lived and worked within them.
But the Revolutionary Army itself was not disappearing.
Quite the opposite.
Its strength was concentrating at a speed never seen before.
Personnel.
Resources.
Weapons.
Intelligence.
Conviction.
Everything was flowing toward one destination like countless rivers converging into the sea.
The Eternal Divine Kingdom.
That mysterious territory had now become the beginning of the Revolutionary Army's next journey.
As time passed, an old chapter quietly ended.
Bases that had carried years of memories and dreams were abandoned, dismantled, or erased.
Evidence of their existence disappeared little by little, until some places seemed as though the Revolutionary Army had never been there at all.
Meanwhile, beneath another banner, that same power was beginning to reorganize itself.
The relocation operation was astonishingly swift and discreet.
Revolutionary Army forces moved like streams flowing through the darkness, every step planned in advance and every route chosen to minimize the slightest possibility of detection.
Soldiers remained alert and focused.
Movements were quick but controlled.
Personnel transfers, cargo loading, evacuation routes, and fallback plans had all been prepared with meticulous care.
No one underestimated the importance of the operation.
A single careless mistake could expose everything.
Yet there was one fact none of them could afford to ignore.
The World Government had ruled for eight hundred years.
It was an immense and deeply entrenched machine.
Across those centuries, its influence had spread through the world like the roots of an ancient tree, sinking into governments, trade routes, intelligence networks, and countless hidden channels.
Its information-gathering apparatus reached almost everywhere.
And when something changed, its response could be terrifyingly fast.
No disturbance, however small, could be assumed to have escaped its notice.