The oppressive silence of Thriller Bark was, for Ragnar, not silent at all.
His Observation Haki was a vast, invisible net cast over the entire island, feeling the low thrum of thousands of zombie consciousnesses like static, the flickering fear of the few living inhabitants, and the singular, bloated, panicked presence at the heart of the castle.
He felt the psychic backlash of Perona's ghosts being annihilated against his crew's will, a series of tiny, popping sensations.
And then, he felt it, a sharp, desperate spike of energy from the castle, followed by the distinct, high-frequency vibration of a Den Den Mushi signal being activated, it was a call reaching out across the seas.
He focused, his advanced Haki allowing him to perceive not the words, but the intent, the raw emotional content of the transmission.
It was a torrent of pure, undiluted terror from Moria, a frantic plea for salvation directed at the cold, bureaucratic power of the World Government. A slow, predatory smirk tugged at the corner of Ragnar's mouth.
´This idiot panicked faster than I expected,' he thought, a flicker of contemptuous amusement in his golden eyes. He didn't share this with his crew; they would see the results soon enough. The hunt was progressing exactly as he foresaw.
They moved on, a silent, deadly procession through the mist-shrouded ruins. As they rounded a corner dominated by the moss-eaten statue of some forgotten sea captain, a massive head with vibrant pink pigtails suddenly peeked out from behind a crumbling wall.
The face was large, round, and painted with garish makeup, its eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and sheer terror.
The crew paused, their gazes locking onto the bizarre apparition. The giant head seemed to realize it had been spotted and let out a tiny, squeaking gasp before shrinking back behind the cover with the speed of a startled turtle.
A low chuckle escaped Ragnar's lips, a rare sound that held genuine amusement.
"Come out," he called, his voice cutting through the gloom without menace, but with an undeniable command that brooked no disobedience. He knew exactly who this was.
There was a long, hesitant pause, followed by the sound of shuffling, heavy footsteps. The woman emerged fully, and she was indeed a giant of a person, tall and broad, clad in a tattered wedding dress that was comically ill-suited to her frame and their surroundings.
This was Lola, captain of the Rolling Pirates, though her current state was far from commanding. She took shaky steps forward, wringing her hands nervously, her gaze fixed on Ragnar as if he were a natural disaster given human form.
"H-hey… Sea Scourge," she stammered, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm.
Ragnar tilted his head, a picture of feigned innocence. "Oh? Do you know me?" He was well aware of his infamy, but he enjoyed the theatricality of the moment, watching the powerful effect his mere presence had on others.
Lola looked as if he'd just asked if the sky was up. "O-of course! E-everyone saw that broadcast from Enies Lobby!" she said, her voice rising in pitch.
"You… you stood there and you… and you just…" She trailed off, unable to articulate the sheer, world-shaking audacity of his actions, instead just making a vague, explosive gesture with her hands.
"Well, then," Ragnar said, moving past the topic of his own reputation as if it were a trivial matter. "Lola. Daughter of 'Big Mom.' What are you doing here?" His question was laced with genuine curiosity.
He knew the story in broad strokes, the refused marriage to the prince of Elbaf, the journey from Totto Land, but the specifics of her winding up as a shadowless refugee on this island of the dead were a puzzle piece he hadn't bothered to locate until now.
"Big Mom's daughter!?" Nami exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. Nojiko and Robin shared similarly surprised glances.
The name Charlotte Linlin carried a weight that resonated across the New World, a symbol of terrifying, gluttonous power.
The boys, Kuro, Zoro, Wyper, and Bartolomeo, remained uninterested, their attention already drifting back to scanning the perimeter for threats. Romance and family drama were not their purview.
Lola herself was stunned into a momentary silence, her jaw slack. How could he possibly know that? Her lineage was a closely guarded secret, one she had fled to escape.
But faced with the piercing gaze of the Sea Scourge, lying seemed not just futile, but suicidal. She swallowed hard and decided on honesty.
"I… I ran away from home," she confessed, her voice gaining a sliver of strength from the admission.
"After I refused the marriage, I took a ship and my crew and I just sailed. We got caught in a terrible storm, shipwrecked… drifted for days. This… this place was where we washed up. Moria… he took our shadows." Her shoulders slumped, the memory of that day clearly still fresh and painful.
"My crew… they left to find a way to get them back. I stayed here, hiding, hoping…"
Ragnar listened, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he nodded slowly. "Well then, Lola. I have a question for you."
"W-what is it?" She flinched slightly.
"Why did you refuse to marry Loki? The cursed prince of Elbaf?" Ragnar asked, his tone one of pure interest. This was a detail that had genuinely puzzled him for a long time.
From a strategic standpoint, it was an alliance of monumental benefit to the Charlotte family. From a personal standpoint, while Loki was known for his… eccentricities, he was still a prince of the most powerful warrior race in the world.
Lola's nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced by a sudden, animated passion. "W-well! I don't love him!" she declared, planting her hands on her wide hips. "And he's a giant! He's very, very, very tall! We don't fit together at all!" She gestured wildly, indicating a vast difference in height.
"And besides…" her voice dropped, becoming more serious, "if Mama got the power and the political support of the giants of Elbaf… that would be a disaster for everyone. She's scary enough as it is. With an army of giants? The whole world would be her candy shop."
Ragnar gave a slow, thoughtful nod. Her reasoning was, in its own way, perfectly sound. It was a normal, emotional, and even morally conscious decision.
It was a line of thinking he understood intellectually, but one that was utterly alien to his own calculus, which was based solely on power, ambition, and the fulfillment of his own inscrutable goals.
His mind, however, immediately pivoted to a different, more perplexing example. 'But how did that bastard Scopper Gaban manage to have sex and get married to that giantess, Ripley?'
The mental image of the Gol D. Roger stalwart second mate alongside a woman who could probably palm his entire head was both baffling and, he had to admit, vaguely impressive.
The logistics alone… He fell into a deep, silent contemplation, his brow furrowed slightly. His expression shifted minutely from thoughtful analysis to something that, on anyone else, might have been mistaken for a flicker of envy for such an… unconventional conquest.
The girls of his crew watched this internal monologue play out on their captain's usually impassive face with barely concealed amusement. Nami bit her lip to stop a giggle. Nojiko's eyes twinkled.
Robin wore a small, knowing smile. They had never seen him look so… cute. So genuinely puzzled by the mundane complexities of romance and physical compatibility.
They were burning with curiosity, wondering what specific thought could possibly provoke such a rare and fascinating array of expressions from the man who could shatter islands with a thought.
After a long moment, Ragnar seemed to dismiss the conundrum from his mind, his features settling back into their usual mask of detached authority. He looked back at Lola. "Be safe today, Lola. Moria will die before the sun sets. You will have your shadow back."
The words were delivered with such absolute, casual certainty that Lola could only stare for a second before the meaning fully registered. Then, pure, unadulterated joy erupted on her face. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Really?! Oh, thank you! Thank you, Sea Scourge! Thank you so much!" she cried, bowing repeatedly, her large frame bobbing up and down.
"It is nothing," Ragnar said, waving a dismissive hand. "But instead, you could do something for me."
"Yes! With pleasure! Anything!" Lola said, her enthusiasm boundless. She was ready to pledge her undying loyalty on the spot.
Ragnar turned and gestured to two of his crew members. "Nami. Isabella." Both women stepped forward immediately, their postures attentive.
"Follow Lola. Go to Hogback's laboratory. Take all of his research notes. Every scrap of paper, every logbook, every diagram on everything he has ever studied, medicine, biology, cybernetics, reanimation. Take it all."
His gaze hardened, the brief moment of humanity gone, replaced by the cold finality of a judge passing sentence. "Then, send him on his way. Such a garbage doctor, one who prostitutes his skills to create these abominations, does not need to live."
Nami, her eyes gleaming with a catlike satisfaction at the prospect of both acquiring valuable knowledge and dispensing justice, nodded firmly. "Yes, Cap'n."
Isabella, her lovely nurse's demeanor belying the deadly efficiency beneath, gave a serene smile. "Of course, Captain. We will ensure his research is put to better use."
With that, the two women fell in beside the bewildered but eager Lola. "C'mon," Nami said, "show us the way to that quack's operating room."
Lola, thrilled to be of help and buzzing with the hope of soon being free, nodded vigorously and began leading them on a path that skirted the main approach to the castle, heading towards the laboratories where Dr. Hogback played god with corpses.
Ragnar watched them go for a moment, then turned his gaze back toward the looming castle. The diversion was handled. Now, it was time for the main event. The smirk returned to his face, it was colder and sharper than before.