Back in the grand dining hall of the palace, Ragnar sat at the head of the table, an island of calm amidst the vibrant sea of his women.
His golden eyes, however, were no longer focused on the present feast, but on the next move in a much larger game.
He finished his tea, the delicate cup looking almost comically small in his hand, and set it down with a soft, definitive click.
The sound, though quiet, carried a subtle weight. Conversations around him began to taper off. Hancock's haughty monologue about Kuja's battle tactics paused.
Robin's botanical discussion with Marigold halted mid-sentence.
Nami's playful bickering with Nojiko fell silent. All eyes turned to him, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the transition from domestic indulgence to captain's command.
"Lilith," he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the quiet. "Come with me."
The orange-haired scientist, who had been enthusiastically sketching reactor designs on a napkin with a stolen utensil, looked up, her eyes bright and alert.
The fear was naturally gone, replaced by the eager intensity of a hound on a fresh scent. She shoved the napkin into her bodysuit and stood up, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Ragnar's gaze swept across the table, acknowledging each of them with a slight nod, a silent promise of return.
His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer on Hancock, whose expression softened from regal pride to understanding support, and on Robin, whose knowing look told him she was already theorizing about Egghead's geopolitical significance.
"Kuro. Zoro," he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly to the far corners of the hall where his first mates typically lingered during meals, preferring observation to participation in the feminine-dominated chatter.
From a shadowed alcove near a towering window, a figure detached itself from the gloom.
Kuro materialized as if stepping through a curtain of darkness, his black suit immaculate, his glasses glinting. He adjusted his cuffs with a fluid motion, a silent, readiness in his stance. "Captain."
From the doorway leading to an outer balcony, where he had been quietly performing weighted arm curls with a piece of celestial architecture,
Zoro turned. A sheen of sweat coated his muscular torso, but his eyes were sharp and focused.
He set down the massive stone block, which hit the floor with a dull thud that made the plates rattle, and grabbed Wado Ichimonji, slinging it over his shoulder. "Finally. Was getting bored."
The contrast between his two top fighters was stark: Kuro, the refined, calculating panther, Zoro, the relentless, honed beast. Both were extensions of Ragnar's will, perfect for the task ahead.
Without further ceremony, Ragnar rose. Lilith fell into step beside him, her shorter legs taking two steps for each of his long strides. Kuro and Zoro flanked them slightly behind, a living wall of lethal capability.
They moved as a unit, a sudden and potent concentration of purpose leaving the warm, chatty safety of the dining hall behind.
As they walked through the grand, echoing corridors towards the dimension's main gateway chamber, Ragnar closed his eyes for a moment.
His consciousness expanded, reaching out through a unique, non-verbal frequency, a psychic wavelength reserved for his Seraphim and his most trusted commanders.
It was a bond forged of divine energy and absolute loyalty, a telepathy that transcended distance.
He found the specific signal he sought: a bright, buzzing, mischievous presence, like static electricity given sentience.
{Morgan.}
The response was immediate, a gleeful cackle that echoed directly in Ragnar's mind. {Captain! Oh, you should see it! The news is everywhere! I have been using my powers to print as many newspapers as possible!}
Ragnar's lips curved into a smirk. He could almost see the scene, Morgan, his Angel of Propaganda, a man whose wings were literally made of swirling parchment and whose fingers dripped printer's ink, cackling in a hidden newsroom somewhere in the New World, surrounded by the deafening roar of his custom-built, Den Den Mushi-linked printing presses.
{Report,} Ragnar thought, the mental command clear and direct.
{The Buster Call!} Morgan's mental voice was triumphant. {The fleets they scrambled for those three kingdoms? Orders came directly from the new Fleet Admiral's office, Kuzan's office! to stand down. No engagement. No investigation.
Official line is 'reassessment of strategic priorities in the wake of the Summit War.' A snort of derision echoed psychically.
{Kahahaha! Strategic priorities, my feathered ass! They're terrified, Captain! Terrified of provoking you again so soon! The image of Mariejois burning is still seared into their brains! They have no idea what you'll do next, and the uncertainty is eating them alive! It's beautiful!}
Behind Ragnar, walking in sync, Zoro let out a low, gruff chuckle. Though not directly linked, he could sense the shift in his captain's aura, the satisfaction radiating from him.
Kuro's smile was thinner, more analytical, but no less pleased. The World Government's fear was a weapon, and their captain wielded it masterfully.
{Good,} Ragnar projected. {Keep the pressure on. Saturate the papers with reminders. Not just me. Of the 'disappearance' of Amazon Lily. Of the void where an Emperor used to be. Let the mystery fester.}
{With pleasure, Captain!} Morgan's glee was palpable. {It's already the only story! The 'Vanishing Island' and the 'Heavenly Conqueror'! Circulation has tripled!}
{Your current location?} Ragnar's mental tone shifted, becoming operational.
{Skirting the edges of the New World, near the Florian Triangle, following a lead on a ghost ship story, perfect cover. Why?}
{Change of plans. Set course for Egghead. Maximum speed.}
There was a brief pause, not of hesitation, but of recalculation. {Egghead? Vegapunk's territory. That's a Government-aligned science island. Heavy patrols. Cutting-edge surveillance. It's a fortress.}
{It's our next destination. I need a mark there. A Heaven's mark, placed somewhere secure, undetected. Can you do it?}
This time, the psychic cackle was one of pure, unadulterated challenge. {Can I do it? Captain, you wound me! Sneaking past Government lapdogs and their blinking toys is what I live for! A mark on Egghead… oh, the symbolism! The headline writes itself! 'Heaven's Eye Reaches the Future!' Consider it done. My ETA… give me six hours. These new wings you blessed me with have quite the gust.}
{Do it in four,} Ragnar thought, injecting a thread of playful command. {I don't like to wait.}
{Four it is! }Morgan's commitment was absolute. {Morgan, out!}
The psychic link severed, leaving a faint, pleasant buzz in its wake. Ragnar opened his eyes. They had arrived at the gateway chamber, a vast, circular room with walls that seemed to be made of solidified moonlight. In the center, a pool of shimmering, liquid silver swirled slowly.
"Morgan's on his way to Egghead," Ragnar stated aloud, for Lilith's benefit. "He'll plant our door. We'll follow once it's secure."
Lilith's eyes widened behind her glasses. "Egghead… you're moving already? But the security… the Pacifista patrol routes, the sensor nets…"
Kuro adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing. "Security is a concern for those who wish to remain unseen. We have no such limitation. We will arrive as we please."
Zoro grunted, resting a hand on Wado's hilt. "Just point me at whatever needs cutting."
Ragnar placed a hand on Lilith's shoulder, feeling the tension there. "Your concern is for your… family. That's good. It means you're already thinking like part of my crew. Morgan is the best infiltrator in the world. If he says he can place the mark, he will. And when we arrive, we will deal with any… complications." His gaze hardened slightly, the storm in his eyes promising thunder. "Including York."
Lilith swallowed, then nodded, a fierce determination replacing her anxiety. "Right. Okay. Then let's go."
Ragnar raised his free hand towards the silvery pool. The liquid metal responded, rising in a swirling vortex that solidified into a tall, ornate archway. Beyond it was not another part of the palace, but the deep, verdant greens and humid, earthy smells of Rusukaina, the Island of Women's Toys.
"First, a brief detour," Ragnar said, stepping through the gate. "To check on the competition."