[Cover Story Serial — "White City Arc: Rumors"]
In the royal capital of the neighboring Arca Kingdom,
a woman returning from the market found her neighbor waiting by the door, glancing around nervously before whispering to her:
"A contagious disease? They say the sick turn into pale, ghost-like monsters!"
The woman went pale in fright.
"Those people… they won't let them wander into our country, will they?"
...
The source of the disease had finally been identified —
it was none other than the very thing that had brought the nation a century of prosperity: Amber Lead.
While buried underground, it posed no harm to the human body, but once mined, it caused people to suffer from "Amber Lead Disease" (also known as the White Toxin). The accumulation of trace toxins caused the lifespan of each successive generation of citizens to become shorter and shorter.
The first generation, a hundred years ago, might have only lost ten years of life, most living to around 70.
The next generation could only live to about 50. The generation after that, to 30...
And now, it was difficult to even survive to adulthood.
That's why several generations were falling ill almost simultaneously. None of the citizens born and raised here could escape this calamity.
Law looked down at his own arm, which was already covered in white tinea.
"The medical experts in our country can't do anything about it."
He looked up at his father.
"But, Dad — the World Government must have a way, right?
Why hasn't any medical aid arrived yet…?"
"We don't know…"
Dr. Trafalgar clutched his head in anguish, half his face buried against his knees.
"The reports we sent said it clearly — this disease isn't contagious!
That's easy enough to confirm!
But the doctors outside are too afraid of being infected to come near Flevance…
The higher-ups in the World Government must know the truth,
so why… why are they still doing nothing?"
Law watched his father's trembling hands pull out strands of hair.
"In the end, they probably just don't care."
His mother's voice was weary and faint.
"We're nobodies. The World Government doesn't take us seriously.
Our only hope now is His Majesty — if the king himself pleads with them, they won't be able to ignore it."
The king…
Yes, of course. Law's eyes lit up — he was about to speak,
when his father raised his head and said bitterly:
"It's not that simple. The hospital already sent people to the palace for answers,
but they were told only that 'talks are ongoing.'
No results have been announced since."
"At first, people were patient, but now…
every day, angry citizens are crowding outside the palace gates demanding answers.
Yet no one from inside has come out to explain anything.
Law— wait! Where are you going?!"
Before he could finish, Dr. Trafalgar sprang to his feet in shock —
the small figure in the leopard-print hat had already dashed wordlessly out the door.
"The palace."
From outside came Law's low, restrained voice — trembling with anger.
Moments later, his hurried footsteps faded into the distance.
Dr. Trafalgar instinctively started to chase after him,
but his wife caught his arm and shook her head wearily, pointing toward the clock on the wall.
He froze, sighed, ran a hand through his tangled hair, and put his glasses back on.
Then he slipped into his white coat once more.
Though his body and spirit were utterly drained,
he forced his back straight and steadied his breath.
Their five-minute break was over.
As warriors of the hospital, he and his wife had to return to their battlefield.
...
White City — once a city of wealth and beauty —
its royal palace stood grand and resplendent, a monument to prosperity.
But now…
Outside the palace walls, a seething crowd of protesters filled the square,
shouting in anger and despair, packed shoulder to shoulder as far as the eye could see.
Law, with his small frame, squeezed and crawled his way through the gaps in the mass,
until, ten minutes later, he finally reached the very front, right before the palace gates.
"When is the World Government going to send medical aid?!"
"Delay, delay, delay! It's been half a month already and you're still stalling! My mother is dead, my husband's bedridden, and my two daughters—they've all caught this cursed disease! You can afford to wait, but we can't! Wuu… wuuuu…"
"Didn't His Majesty the King promise to give us a clear answer today?!"
The crowd's shouting, wailing, and sobbing all blended together into a roar so loud it felt like it would burst Law's eardrums.
He covered his ears and strained to stand on tiptoe, peering past the crowd—only to see the palace gates still tightly shut.
At first, a few palace guards tried to calm the citizens, telling them not to worry—His Majesty was already doing everything he could to seek help, that there was no need to block the gates and cause a scene, that they should go home and wait for news…
But eventually, even the guards grew weary and retreated behind their posts, hiding from sight and pretending not to hear the chaos erupting outside.
Time dragged on, minute by minute.
"It's already getting dark! Looks like His Majesty doesn't plan on coming out after all!"
An old man with glasses shouted bitterly,
"He promised! No word kept—what kind of king is that?"
"If he won't come out, then we'll go in and find him ourselves! Let's see how he explains this!"
Someone young in the crowd yelled furiously,
"Come on! Everyone! Let's storm the place and drag that old bastard out ourselves!"
"Don't! Stop!"
The old man with glasses went pale and tried to stop them, but it was too late—
the crowd was already like a volcano ready to erupt.
The moment the words were shouted, their fury ignited all at once.
"Yeah! Drag him out!"
"Count me in!"
"Me too!"
Rage surged through the crowd like a tidal wave.
Together, the furious citizens smashed through the tall iron gates and poured inside like a flood.
The guards turned white with fear.
None of them dared to resist—they could only watch as the mob trampled through the royal gardens, crashed through fountains and fences, smashed doors and windows, and stormed into the palace halls.
Law, clutching his spotted hat, was among the first to charge in.
"That damned old man…"
He clenched his fists, teeth gritted.
He'd already decided—once they dragged out that irresponsible king, he'd make sure to land a few good punches before saying a word.
But—
When he finally stepped through the grand palace doors and looked around, he froze on the spot.
"Hey… what's going on?"
"Kid, don't block the entrance—move aside!"
The people behind him followed in, not understanding why he'd stopped.
But as soon as they entered, they too fell silent in shock.
Only then did everyone realize—
The enormous royal palace was cold and empty.
Deserted.
Not a trace of the royal family remained.
...
"Phew…"
In the training room, Nao let out a long breath, opened his eyes, revealing a sharp, gleaming gaze.
He glanced sideways out the porthole. At the horizon's edge, a purple-red dawn gradually appeared, dispersing the thin mist.
Sunlight, like boiling molten steel, gushed forth, gradually illuminating the entire blue sky.
"Morning already, huh…"
Nao murmured to himself.
He had been sitting in meditation since after lunch the previous day, immersed in his training and reflection — he hadn't realized that more than ten hours had passed in a blink.
He still felt mentally sharp, though his neck was a little stiff.
Stretching and rubbing his shoulders, Nao stood, recalled Yone's Twin Swords back into his body, and pushed open the door to step out onto the deck.
"Good morning, Vice Admiral!"
Along the way, Marines stopped and saluted him one after another. Nao also smiled and nodded in response.
The front of the deck was quite lively. He glanced over – oh, it was Onigumo again, sparring with Little Luo. Both were panting heavily, equally disheveled.
This scene is going to last for quite a while, isn't it?
Onigumo had served under him for two years now, and his strength had indeed improved quickly — but beating Little Luo anytime soon was still a pipe dream.
At least another two or three years, maybe.
He didn't dwell on it, and turned toward the mess hall for breakfast — but then he noticed someone approaching, escorted by Momonga.
A lean man in his thirties with a thin frame and two narrow goatee lines on his chin —
it was none other than Rear Admiral Engel from the North Blue's First Branch.
"Vice Admiral,"
Momonga saluted and leaned in slightly, whispering,
"He's here to bid you farewell."
"Oh?"
Nao raised a brow, a little surprised.
It was only the second day — they wouldn't reach the Calm Belt until nightfall.
Why was this guy suddenly leaving halfway through his flattery campaign?
"Vice Admiral,"
Rear Admiral Engel bowed deeply, rubbing his hands apologetically.
"My deepest apologies. I had intended to see you safely out of the North Blue, but Headquarters just sent down an urgent mission. I'm afraid I must return immediately."
"Headquarters?"
Nao asked casually.
"A task from Marine Headquarters ?"
"No,"
Engel hesitated, then shook his head.
"It's… a confidential assignment from the World Government."
He looked visibly uneasy — clearly reluctant to reveal details, yet afraid to offend Nao by refusing outright.
But Nao waved him off with a faint smile, cutting him short.
"Go on then. Duty comes first. No need to trouble yourself just to say goodbye."
"Yes, Vice Admiral."
Engel let out a quiet sigh of relief, forcing a smile.
"Then I'll take my leave. If you ever come to the North Blue again, please visit our First Branch — we'd be honored to host you properly…"
"I'll keep that in mind."
Nao watched him depart.
Then, beside him, a cold snort sounded:
"What a piece of work. An urgent task gets assigned, and he still has the mind to specifically come aboard the Thunder Hawk just to finish kissing up, delaying for a good half hour front and back? Is a guy like that even worthy of being called a Marine?"
Nao and Momousagi both turned to look. They saw Onimaru walking over, his face bruised and swollen, full of disdain.
"Got beaten up again?"
Momonga glanced at Little Luo, who was perched on the mast, grooming his feathers with serene composure.
With a knowing grin, Momonga teased,
"Let me guess — that makes thirty-five losses so far?"
"Thirty-eight," Onigumo muttered darkly.
Onigumo grumbled under his breath,
"What kind of lousy memory is that? If you can't keep count, don't bother.
Anyway, it doesn't matter — give me a few more chances. By the time I hit a little over forty challenges, I'll have that damn bird pinned to the ground begging for mercy."
He smirked smugly, adding,
"Once I reach that point, I'll really be ready to make a name for myself.
That guy Shiryu down in Impel Down? He'll be nothing compared to—"
"Shiryu was promoted to Chief Warden last month,"
Momonga interrupted flatly.
"And forget about 'by that point' — you'll see him before the end of the month.
And no, I don't believe for a second you'll beat Little Luo before then."
"Before the end of the month?"
Onigumo froze for a second.
Today was already the twentieth.
Then, as if struck by lightning, his face changed drastically.
Wait a second—
How could he forget?!
They hadn't come to the North Blue empty-handed — there were two high-profile prisoners waiting to be escorted to Impel Down!
Crap. Crap, crap, crap!
He turned a pleading gaze toward Nao.
"Don't look at me," Nao said with a lazy stretch, smiling.
"I'm heading straight back to Headquaters. After two straight months on duty, I deserve some rest.
As for Momonga — he's returning too, to report to Fleet Admiral Kong and deliver the battle documents.
That means the escort job falls squarely on your shoulders."
"Eh…?"
Onigumo's whole body slumped, his face twisting into pure despair.
————--
After another full day of sailing,
Night finally fell — and the warship at last left the North Blue, entering the Calm Belt.
The voyage had been smooth and uneventful.
Aside from a brief "video call" Nao made to his family at Headquarters, he spent nearly all his time in the training room, focused entirely on his practice.
But deep into the night, he was startled awake by urgent knocking.
"Vice Admiral! Vice Admiral!"
Frowning, Nao got up and opened the door.
Standing there was Momonga, looking unusually flustered.
"At five o'clock off the bow — two giant-class Sea Kings are fighting each other!"
"Giant-class?"
Nao followed him out to the deck rail, gazing into the dark distance.
Sure enough, several kilometers away, two colossal silhouettes were locked in a violent struggle, crashing into each other amid towering waves that churned the sea like boiling chaos.
They were enormous — terrifyingly so.
The serpent-like one on the left had to be at least four thousand meters long, while the one on the right, even with just its upper body above water, stretched over three thousand meters.
Nao had seen plenty of Sea Kings before, but this size… unless one dove ten thousand meters deep into the abyss, such a sight was once-in-a-decade rare.
"Just steer around them."
Nao looked at Momonga, a little confused. Did something like this really require waking him up?
He wouldn't be surprised if Onigumo, with his recklessness, had come knocking, but Momonga's personality shouldn't be like this.
"It's not that, Vice Admiral."
Momonga pointed to the gap between the two Sea Kings, his voice hesitant. "There's a ship there. Judging by the flag, it looks like it belongs to the World Government…"