In a private suite of a luxury hotel.
Daren sat back on the sofa, a lit cigar between his lips, eyes fixed intently on the map in his hands.
It was a high-priced purchase from an informant—a detailed layout of Coin Island. The map marked out the island's topography, building distribution, and the positions of all major trade ports.
With less than an hour until the auction began, Daren had to finish reviewing the intel and fine-tune his plan.
He didn't believe in easy success—unless you were Borsalino.
As he studied the map, Daren marked the locations of various pirate crews stationed at each port, then began thinking through his tactical deployment.
From a bird's-eye view, Coin Island lived up to its name—it was perfectly circular.
The outer rim of the "coin" was surrounded by ocean. The closer one moved toward the center, the more densely packed the commercial zones became—banks, merchant guilds, financial buildings crowding together.
At the very center of the "coin" was the main auction venue.
Their operation was rushed, and manpower limited.
Beyond the pirate forces that had already surfaced, the Marines also had to prepare for the possibility of Shiki appearing at any moment.
Which meant Daren had to be even more meticulous—he couldn't afford any mistakes.
Knock knock.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," Daren called, flicking ash from his cigar.
"Commodore Daren, here's your iced whiskey."
A young Marine entered, respectfully presenting the glass.
"Thanks," Daren said with a casual smile, pulling out a thick wad of colorful bills and handing it over.
"N-no need, Commodore Daren!" the Marine stammered, waving his hands frantically, face flushed red.
"Take it."
Daren lifted the glass and took a slow sip, eyes never leaving the map.
"I'm not in the habit of letting people work for free."
"It's really not necessary! Serving you is an honor, Commodore Daren!"
The young soldier's voice trembled with excitement.
Daren finally looked up.
The Marine wore his cap slightly askew, his black hair sticking out in places. He looked exhausted, but the expression in his eyes was clear—earnest admiration.
His features were still youthful, but there was a sharp determination in his brow.
Daren smiled but didn't press the matter.
"Fair enough."
The Marine scratched his head and said nervously, "I wasn't trying to reject your kindness, sir. I was just... overwhelmed. Commodore Daren, I've admired you for a long time. You brought peace to the chaos of North Blue... and even took down a monster like Byrnndi World..."
He was so excited he stumbled over his words.
"You're the hero I've always wanted to follow!"
Seeing the kid's starstruck expression, Daren chuckled.
"What's your name?"
The Marine straightened up instantly, chest out, and snapped into a crisp salute.
"Lieutenant Arthur of Marine Headquarters, reporting, sir!"
"My goal in joining the Marines was to be like you—to protect the seas, uphold justice, and change the world!"
His voice rang with passion and youthful conviction.
Arthur...
Daren murmured the name to himself.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but something about the kid's presence reminded him of Dragon before he'd gone rogue.
That overwhelming sense of justice. The slightly naïve glint in his eyes. It was all too familiar.
"Changing the world isn't easy," Daren said with a sudden smile. "Arthur, want to join my unit?"
Arthur froze—then lit up like a firework.
"I can!?"
"Of course," Daren replied easily. "I just need to say the word to Admiral Sengoku."
Maybe it was nostalgia for an old friend that prompted the offer.
"T-that would be incredible!"
Arthur was so excited his hands trembled. He bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Commodore Daren! I swear I won't let you down!"
Daren gave a quiet laugh.
"Just do your best."
To him, it was a small gesture.
But to Arthur—it meant everything.
And really, why not?
...
The deafening roar of voices filled the auction hall.
It was packed wall to wall, a crowd as dense as a battlefield.
The venue itself was built like an arena, with a circular, red-carpeted platform at the center, surrounded by rows upon rows of seats. Above those, luxurious VIP boxes overlooked the floor, suspended like skyboxes in a coliseum.
Each VIP suite was enclosed in one-way reinforced glass, designed to protect the privacy of high-ranking guests and shield them from the prying eyes below.
"Daren, how the hell did you score a VIP box?"
Inside Suite 3A, Sengoku leaned forward, peering through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass at the auction stage and the surging crowd below. His tone was half-surprised, half-impressed.
The box was extravagantly furnished—fine teas, fresh fruits, premium cigars, and vintage wine stocked to the brim.
The attendant who had come in earlier even hinted, with practiced subtlety, that if their esteemed guests desired... other forms of "entertainment," they could be arranged, free of charge.
Now puffing on a cigar worth more than 300,000 Belly and sipping red wine that cost nearly his yearly salary, Sengoku felt like he'd wasted half his life.
A lifetime of fighting, and he'd never once been pampered like this.
"Three hundred million Belly. VIP status."
Daren replied flatly.
"Pfft!"
Sengoku choked and sprayed his wine in disbelief.
He looked down at the precious liquid now soaking into the carpet, then stared at Daren, who sat casually with one leg crossed over the other.
"Three hundred million!?"
That kind of money could build three warships!
Seeing Sengoku's stunned face, Daren couldn't help but chuckle.
"Admiral Sengoku, we can't afford to fail this mission."
"Our identities are too sensitive to expose. This is one expense we can't skip."
Sengoku's lips twitched.
He wasn't wrong. If their identities as Marines were revealed here, it would throw the entire auction into chaos. And if anything disrupted the event, they might not even get the chance to see the Moa Moa no Mi, let alone claim it.
Still... 300 million?
Sengoku paused, then narrowed his eyes at the lavish spread of exotic fruits, cigars, and high-end alcohol on the table in front of them.
Well, if the money's already spent—might as well make it worth it.
While Sengoku was busy "recovering costs," down below on the auction floor, a middle-aged man in a black tailcoat stepped onto the stage.
He picked up the microphone, faced the restless crowd, bowed politely, and smiled.
"We are deeply honored to welcome guests from across the world to this exclusive auction, hosted by Lu Feld-sama."
"On behalf of Feld-sama, allow me to extend our warmest welcome to all of you."
No sooner had he finished than shouts erupted from the floor.
"Cut the crap and get to the auction!"
"Yeah, enough talking!"
"My time isn't cheap, you know!"
...
The auctioneer kept his smile.
"It seems everyone's eager to begin. Very well, let's not waste any more time. The auction starts now!"
"And our very first item up for bid—"
He raised his hand, and several black-suited security guards carried a heavy case onto the stage.
Clack—clack—clack.
Dozens of spotlights swung into position, illuminating the case as it was opened.
The auctioneer's voice rang out with dramatic flair across the vast arena.
"Item number one—a renowned blade crafted by a master swordsmith from the South Blue!"
"One of the Fifty Skillful Grade Meitō—Kariumi!"