Bringing the previous topic to a close, no one continued the discussion.
Roger pointed at the rubbings of the ancient script on the table and said, "Go on, translate them. We're all curious about what's written here."
"Leave it to me." Valthior smiled, sat down at the desk, and picked up one of the rubbings. "Which of you has the best handwriting? I'll read it out loud, and you write it down."
Rayleigh chuckled. "Those two have handwriting like chicken scratch; I'd better do it."
"Bastard."
"What are you so smug for?"
Gaban and Roger each grumbled, but neither objected.
It was obvious Rayleigh was more educated than them. In daily life, he also carried himself with more refinement and a gentlemanly air—no wonder Shakky chose him over Roger or Gaban.
With a smile, Valthior turned his attention to the rubbing and began reading and translating:
"After the great war, the world did not usher in the dawn. Betrayal shattered our once-shared goal.
Someone sought to seize the fruits of victory. The first to disappear was the Heavenly Weapon, Uranus. Fortunately, during that war, Davy D. Jones had already destroyed the core of that weapon, causing it to lose its terrifying power.
Soon after, my dear friend Poseidon was killed, yet we were still unable to determine who was responsible.
The shadow of betrayal looms over us.
To prevent such a thing from happening again, we have hidden the Pluton as a deterrent.
Thinking about it now, it is both absurd and laughable. We once did everything we could to oppose the power of Uranus and Pluton, even going so far as to awaken Poseidon. And yet now, we must rely on that very same power—despite the possibility that it may destroy the world."
This was the text recorded on the first rubbing, which Roger had said came from a Poneglyph.
When Rayleigh finished writing, no one spoke. Instead, they all looked toward Valthior.
He picked up the next rubbing and continued reading:
"We once sought to oppose that power together. We were comrades who fought side by side. But unfortunately, nothing can be undone now.
A new war has begun, and caught unprepared, we have clearly fallen into a disadvantage. Yet I believe that in the end, victory will belong to us.
Even if that war continues into a distant future beyond what we can now imagine.
What saddens me even more is that the promises I once made to my friends may never be fulfilled. That is truly regrettable.
However, I believe that this will of freedom will one day spread across the entire world.
And when that time comes, there will surely be those who inherit this will—who will fulfill those promises I could not.
The world has already begun to be destroyed. I do not know how long this destruction will last. Perhaps until all things sink into the depths of the sea.
This may be Davy's final curse.
Even though he once warned us...
I have buried the secret to opposing that terrifying power within the ruins where we once fought. Perhaps this will leave a precious spark for those of you in the future."
After finishing the second Poneglyph rubbing, Valthior picked up the last one, glanced at it, and curled his lips.
"This one's meaningless. It records some palace scandal from an ancient kingdom—says the king got cheated on."
Clearly, this one wasn't from a Poneglyph, but from some other ancient document.
Hearing that, Roger and the others lost interest. Rayleigh set down his pen, a hint of confusion on his face.
"Why do the Poneglyphs feel like a personal confession? These two seem to have been written by the same person."
"What does it mean that the war hasn't ended?" Gaban muttered.
"The world is being destroyed… until everything sinks into the sea? Davy's curse?" Roger murmured, puzzled.
"Why does this Davy D. Jones sound like some kind of villain? Weren't they fighting against Imu? Or maybe the Twenty Kings?" Rayleigh added.
Davy Jones was a legendary figure widely known among pirates. It was said he dwelled in the deep sea, and all treasures sunk beneath the ocean belonged to him.
The most famous association was the pirate game—the Davy Back Fight.
This game, where crews could wager and steal each other's members and flags, was closely tied to the early formation of the Rocks Pirates, which was how they gathered so many powerful figures.
Valthior didn't explain anything about the "great war" or Joy Boy from his own knowledge. After all, those were still just his speculations and wouldn't mean much right now.
Ultimately, they needed to find more Poneglyphs to truly unravel these mysteries.
"I'm thirsty. Isn't there any tea?" Valthior glanced at the desk, sounding dissatisfied.
"Just drink some booze. What tea? What are you, some noble young master?" Roger said instinctively while reading Rayleigh's notes.
"Here." Gaban casually tossed him a flask.
Valthior still wasn't quite used to their rough pirate habits, but he didn't refuse the goodwill. He took the flask, took a sip, and immediately frowned.
"This tastes awful. Even the servants in my house wouldn't drink something like this… Where did you get it? Isn't this basically waste?"
"Sorry my booze isn't up to your standards, Lord Valthior," Gaban shot back, though he didn't take it to heart.
"Do you think… the 'spark' to oppose that terrible power could be what we were just talking about?" Roger asked, suddenly interested.
"Possibly," Rayleigh said, stroking his beard. "From what we know so far, we need to gather these Poneglyphs and solve their mysteries—see if we can find a way to counter Imu. At the same time, we're searching for the final island anyway… Sounds like a hassle, but luckily, the two goals don't conflict. We can handle it along the way."
There were too few clues to dig deeper right now.
But this at least proved Valthior's capability. Roger was clearly delighted and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Well done. With you around, we should be able to reach our goal much faster."
"Alright, enough of this heavy stuff," Rayleigh waved it off. "Let's throw a banquet—to celebrate Valthior joining us and our big haul!"
Very quickly, the Roger Pirates got the party started. From how smoothly they moved, it was clear they'd held plenty of banquets before.
...
Meanwhile, at Marine Headquarters—Marineford.
Garp had just gotten into a fight with his close friend Sengoku. In a foul mood, he headed toward the underground detention cells.
His son, Monkey D. Dragon, had violated multiple rules during the God Valley incident and was currently being detained there.
Inside the cell, Dragon was shackled to the wall, his expression dark and gloomy.
Hearing footsteps approaching, he looked up toward the outside of the cell—at his father, Vice Admiral Garp, now hailed in the newspapers as the "Hero of the Marines."
The two locked eyes, but neither spoke. The atmosphere grew heavy.
After a moment, Dragon finally broke the silence.
"Don't you have anything to explain?"
A flicker of pain crossed Garp's eyes, but in the end, he said nothing.
Seeing his father like this, Dragon's disappointment deepened. He took a breath and said:
"Old man, I'm quitting the Marines."
"…Mm." Garp responded softly.
What the Marines had done at God Valley had completely shattered his sense of pride. Faced with his son's words, he couldn't find a single reason to persuade him otherwise.
In fact, if not for the young Marines he couldn't abandon—the ones who still carried burning justice in their hearts—he himself wouldn't want to keep struggling in this mire.
But if even he left… who would protect them?
"Heh…" Dragon let out a cold laugh, even more disappointed. "Then I'll just say it straight—I despise you."
"…Yeah." Garp replied calmly.
Being seen in such a "pathetic" state—being looked down upon was only natural, wasn't it?
Not knowing what else to say, Garp simply tossed the keys to the shackles and the cell onto the ground in front of Dragon, then turned and walked away, his back looking unusually weary.
Watching his father's retreating figure, Dragon's gaze gradually grew more complicated.
"…Old man…"
...
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