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"But they won't be jumping around much longer."
Figarland waved a white-gloved hand dismissively, like he was brushing away dust that wasn't even there.
A cold, certain smile spread across his pale face—the kind shaped by years of luxury and absolute power. It was the smile of a cat that already had the mouse pinned under its paw.
Candlelight flickered through the meeting hall, making the ancient murals of the Twenty Founders flicker between light and shadow. The air smelled of expensive incense and that faint metallic tang that always clung to unchecked authority.
"The Navy," Figarland continued, his voice calm but sharp as falling ice, "has already authorized a Buster Call against these lawless lunatics—the Phantom Troupe."
"Right now, Admiral Sakazuki—or should we just start calling him the future Fleet Admiral candidate, 'Akainu'?—has personally taken five elite Vice Admirals and a fleet strong enough to erase a small country from the map. They're stationed at Sabaody Archipelago as we speak."
He let the words hang for a second.
"That island is the throat of the New World. Every arrogant pirate has to pass through it eventually. It won't be long before the sea foam washes away the last trace of them. The name 'Phantom Pirates' will disappear from this world forever."
The brazier beside the table crackled loudly in the sudden quiet.
"Perfect! About damn time!" Kanzai's eyes lit up with vicious glee. "Let those lowlife pirates finally learn what happens when you provoke the descendants of the gods!"
Only Mizaistom Nana, still kneeling beside him, showed zero excitement. A deep frown carved itself between his brows, heavy with unease.
Years of surviving the edge of death against every kind of insane, overwhelmingly strong, and completely unpredictable opponent had taught him one thing.
A crew like the Phantom Troupe… would they really go down that easily, like lambs to the slaughter?
Memories of everything those people had pulled off back on the Black Whale flashed through his mind. He kept his head down and stayed silent—the man above them was their supreme commander, after all.
But deep down, every instinct screamed the same warning:
These people… weren't going to vanish so easily.
Unaware of the storm already gathering, the Black Whale had reached the skies above Sabaody Archipelago.
The cluster of islands, held up by the roots of the world's largest mangrove—the Yarukiman—bathed forever in a dreamy twilight glow.
Seventy-nine massive trunks pierced the clouds. Their resin hardened hundreds of meters in the air, swelling into countless bubbles of every size that drifted gently upward instead of popping. They wrapped the entire sea in a flowing, rainbow-colored halo.
"It's beautiful…" Chrollo couldn't help but sigh.
He reminded himself once again just how insanely lucky he was to have crossed time and space and landed in this wild, breathtaking world. No book or imagination could ever do a sight like this justice.
On deck, the women were already starry-eyed at the enchanting sunset view.
"Waaaah—! I wanna go down right now! I'm gonna eat everything delicious on the whole island!" Jewelry Bonney, pink hair streaming and curves on full display, nearly launched herself over the railing. A shiny string of drool already trailed from the corner of her wide grin.
Robin crossed her arms elegantly, a soft smile on her lips. "Nami and I are planning to head down first. We need to find a reliable coating craftsman, and… we'd like to sit down for some afternoon tea while we're at it. Who knows when we'll get another relaxed moment once we dive into the deep sea."
Nami sighed, glancing worriedly at the enormous Black Whale beneath them. "Afternoon tea sounds nice, but I'm more worried about the coating. Our ship is huge. Can a normal craftsman even handle something this size? If anything goes wrong down there…" She had seen the crushing pressure ten thousand meters underwater with her own eyes—she wasn't taking chances.
"Afternoon tea, huh…"
Nearby, Machi—dressed in her usual sleek combat gear, ice-blue eyes showing a rare hint of longing.
Ever since the Troupe stepped into this dangerous "Dark Continent," the nonstop fighting, vigilance, and travel had made her almost forget what it felt like to sit in the sun with a hot cup of tea and a delicate pastry.
That simple, peaceful afternoon moment suddenly felt strangely appealing.
Even the usually blank-faced Shizuku, round glasses perched on her nose, tilted her head and stared down through the thick lenses at the bizarre, colorful street scenes reflected in the bubbles below. Floating bubble houses, weird shop signs, people zipping around on bubble vehicles—everything looked brand new and fascinating.
The vacuum-cleaner fish in her arms let out a soft "glub," as if picking up on her curiosity.
On the other side of the deck, the four battle maniacs known as the Troupe's "limbs" were already itching to move.
Uvogin's bronze muscles bulged in the twilight. He grinned, baring sharp white teeth, and slammed his fists together with a heavy metallic clang. He looked one second away from leaping straight down and smashing into the lawless paradise below, announcing the Troupe's arrival the only way he knew how—total chaos.
Nobunaga sat cross-legged, cradling his beloved blades. He looked like he was meditating with his eyes closed, but the slight twitch of his eyelids and the way his fingers kept unconsciously stroking the hilt wrappings gave him away.
Chrollo had casually mentioned earlier that the island was packed with strong fighters from all four seas and the Grand Line.
For a man chasing the absolute peak of swordsmanship, there was no better hunting ground.
Phinks adjusted the gaudy gold rings studded with massive emeralds and diamonds on every finger, a savage, eager grin on his face. He kept making empty shuffling and stacking motions with his hands, already picturing himself cleaning out every casino on the island.
Feitan leaned in the shadow of the mast, lazily chewing on a bubble he'd snatched from the air. His sharp eyes swept across specific zones of the island below like a venomous snake—places thick with chaos, crime, and bloodshed. Exactly the kind of playground that suited a torture enthusiast and killing artist like him.
Every pair of eyes eventually turned toward the thoughtful figure standing at the front of the bridge.
They were all waiting for their captain to give the order.