The war room fell silent.
Dragon raised his head and looked at Morley. Something churned in the depths of his eyes, like an undercurrent surging deep beneath the waves.
He did not answer, but he folded Sabo's letter and tucked it into his coat's inner pocket.
"Have the army commanders of the East Army and South Army come see me," he finally said. "We need to discuss what the Revolutionary Army should do in this new world."
On the waters of Reverse Mountain, the Moby Dick's massive hull cleaved through the waves, slowly entering the canal between the cliffs of the Red Line.
Whitebeard stood at the bow, his hand wrapped firmly around Murakumogiri's shaft.
When this ship had sailed out of this waterway six years ago, most of those aboard had been wounded, lost, and uncertain about the future.
Back then, the Whitebeard Pirates had only just crawled out of the ruins of the Summit War. Whitebeard himself still had IV lines attached to him, and Marco followed him around every day, nagging, "Pops, you can't drink anymore."
But now, everything had changed.
The Whitebeard Pirate Flag snapped in the wind atop the Moby Dick's mainmast.
The flag was still the same flag, the skull still the same skull, but when the sea breeze unfurled it, everyone could see a thin, dark-gold pattern along its edge.
Natsu had embroidered it himself when the Uchiha Clan and the Whitebeard Pirates formed their alliance.
At the time, Marco had even complained, "Who embroiders someone else's clan crest on a pirate flag?" But now that dark-gold pattern glinted in the wind, like a blade concealed within the flag.
On the foredeck, fourteen division commanders stood in a line.
Marco stood at the front with his hands in his pockets, the tuft of