"Damn it…!"
"Why do these problems keep erupting in the West Blue one after another?!"
Inside a Vice Admiral's office at Marine Headquarters, Marineford, Vice Admiral Doberman slammed a document onto his desk. Veins bulged faintly on his forehead as he listened to the report from his subordinate, his expression growing darker by the second.
Ever since the incident involving Ghost Hand Rowan, the pressure on him had increased sharply. He had already been reprimanded once by Fleet Admiral Sakazuki, and if not for timing and logistics, he might have been personally dispatched to the West Blue to resolve the situation.
And now
Another problem had surfaced.
"Using a decoy to fake a capture… those fools at the G-8 Branch!" Doberman growled, his voice thick with restrained fury.
After reviewing the report in detail, the situation became clear.
Although the G-8 Branch had indeed engaged and defeated the so-called Ghost Sword Pirates years ago, they had failed to capture their true captain. Instead, in pursuit of military merit, they arrested a stand-in and falsified the report. Now that the truth had surfaced, the officers involved simply claimed ignorance.
At most, disciplinary action could be taken. Severe punishment or removal from command was unlikely.
This kind of failure born from arrogance infuriated Doberman more than outright defeat.
"Vice Admiral Doberman… what should we do?" a Rear Admiral assigned to West Blue oversight asked cautiously. "The Ghost Hand Pirates alone already require a force from the Grand Line to suppress. Now the Two-Sword Pirates have emerged as well… handling both simultaneously will be extremely difficult."
Doberman pressed his fingers against his temple, exhaling slowly.
"It's impossible to divert a Vice Admiral from the Grand Line. Any such redeployment would destabilize our presence there. The Admirals would never approve it."
The Grand Line remained the Navy's primary battlefield. The Four Seas were secondary normally.
But now the West Blue was becoming anything but ordinary.
Just then, another Rear Admiral hesitated before speaking.
"Vice Admiral… there is one more detail. Since acquiring their new ship, the Ghost Hand Pirates' route has been… unusually aligned with that of the Two-Sword Pirates."
Doberman paused.
His sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
Rowan's movements… and the pattern of destruction left behind him whether Marines or pirates formed a clear trend.
A thought began to take shape.
"…If the Ghost Hand Pirates encounter the Two-Sword Pirates…"
His voice lowered, becoming colder.
"…then perhaps both sides will clash. If they weaken each other, that may be our opportunity."
He straightened, issuing orders immediately:
"Transmit orders to the nearest West Blue branches. Maintain surveillance on both crews at all times. Do not engage under any circumstances without direct authorization."
"Yes, sir!"
The Rear Admiral saluted sharply and withdrew.
The room fell quiet once more.
But the tension only deepened.
Ghost Ship – Training Room
More than a dozen heavy sandbags of varying size swung chaotically throughout the enclosed space.
At the center
Ghost Hand Rowan stood motionless, eyes closed.
Yet his body moved with uncanny precision.
He shifted, stepped, tilted each movement flawless, avoiding every incoming sandbag while striking others with perfectly timed blows.
His fists cut through the air like blades.
This was no longer instinct.
This was control.
It had been over half a month since the completion of the Ghost Ship. During that time, Rowan had fully stabilized and mastered Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki).
Within his awareness, every movement in the room was clear.
Every shift in air, every trajectory, every rhythm
Perceived.
Understood.
Responded to.
Weaving through the storm of swinging sandbags had become effortless no more taxing than breathing.
Even in a battlefield filled with bullets, Rowan could now advance as though walking on calm ground.
But he did not stop there.
His training extended far beyond Haki.
His physical conditioning had continued relentlessly, and his mastery over the Warp-Warp Fruit had deepened further.
The range of his distortion had expanded.
Its precision had sharpened.
Its applications more refined.
However, not all paths of development were accessible.
Rowan had attempted to manipulate gravitational distortion an advanced concept within his theoretical understanding of his Devil Fruit.
He failed.
Completely.
Warping tangible matter was one thing.
Distorting abstract forces like gravity… was something else entirely.
Even with his understanding, he could not grasp it.
It was like reaching toward something that could not be touched.
It reminded him of the Gura Gura no Mi the Tremor-Tremor Fruit. Despite its overwhelming power, even it did not truly fracture space itself, only the medium of air.
There were limits.
And those limits could not yet be crossed.
However
His experiments with sound distortion had shown progress.
His illusions had become more convincing.
More deceptive.
More dangerous.
Compared to gravity, sound was at least something that could be influenced, redirected, and manipulated.
"…That's enough."
Rowan slowed his movements, letting the sandbags continue their chaotic motion as he stepped out of their range.
Walking to the corner of the room, he strapped on several dense weight blocks crafted from a unique mineral far heavier than steel and began another phase of training.
Push-ups.
Slow.
Controlled.
Brutal.
He had once considered training with Seastone, but had missed the opportunity to collect any during earlier battles. Acquiring it through black markets proved far more difficult than expected.
So he adapted.
Sweat soon poured from his body, dripping steadily onto the hardened floor beneath him.
"One hundred thirty-one… one hundred thirty-two…"
He counted silently.
Each repetition pushed his limits further.
Half an hour later, he completed one thousand push-ups.
Then came squats.
Another thousand.
By the end, even Rowan whose physique far exceeded that of ordinary humans was breathing heavily.
After a brief rest and a cold rinse, he exited the training room.
Upper Deck
The sea breeze greeted him.
On one side of the deck, Nico Robin sat quietly, a book in hand, her posture relaxed yet elegant. Around her, the crew worked diligently, cleaning and maintaining the ship.
No one dared slack off.
Rowan approached, placing a compass and nautical chart on the table before him.
"Up ahead is the Water Gold Sea. At most, one more day."
He traced their current position, adjusting their trajectory slightly.
Then he looked at Robin.
"What's the situation in that region?"
Robin closed her book gently.
"The Water Gold Sea is a lawless zone," she explained. "No affiliated nations. It consists of twenty-one islands one large island, six mid-sized, and fourteen smaller ones."
"Underground forces operate freely there. Information flows quickly… but so does danger."
Together, they marked the islands onto the chart.
Rowan bypassed a small island ahead and pointed toward a medium-sized one further beyond.
"We skip the minor settlements. Places like that won't have what we need."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"In chaotic regions like this, intelligence gathers where power gathers."
Robin nodded in agreement.
Two Days Later
The Ghost Ship arrived at the designated island.
They anchored near a secluded cliff, away from prying eyes.
Rowan and Robin disembarked together.
This time
Gathering intelligence proved far easier than expected.
While they were unable to pinpoint the exact location of Devil Sheriff Lafitte, they successfully confirmed something far more immediate:
The current whereabouts of the Two-Sword Pirates.
And this time
There would be no uncertainty.
Only confrontation.