Recovery Plan, Speculations on the Red Line

Red Line.

Crimson cliffs rose from the seabed, stretching straight upward and piercing the clouds.

On the side of the continent near the entrance to Reverse Mountain, there was an inconspicuous protrusion.

A layer of rock happened to jut out horizontally for over ten meters, forming a foothold of barely twenty or thirty square meters.

At that moment, two people stood atop this sheer cliff, inaccessible to ordinary people.

They wore immaculate, tailored white formal attire and pointed top hats.

One of them stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at several tiny black dots moving slowly in the distance.

"It seems the target's route has deviated from our projections," the tall, thin man said.

"They did not encounter Zephyr's fleet."

"Isn't that perfectly normal?" the other person replied.

His stance was somewhat casual, with both hands in his pockets.

"The waters around the Grand Line entrance are so vast. Zephyr's main target isn't this group either. It's perfectly normal for them to miss each other."

The tall, thin man—Gerlo—tilted his head slightly.

"How is the intelligence confirmation going?"

"How much have you found out after following them from White Shell Town for several days?"

"We've basically obtained all the information on that Lunarian."

"Bloodline purity remains undetermined. His traits are obvious. He consumed a Zoan Devil Fruit, Mythical Zoan: Phoenix Model."

"His martial skills and Haki have not reached the introductory level. He relies on his fruit and racial talents in battle. Threat assessment: medium-high."

"What about the people around him?"

"We've investigated them as well," the man paused. "Their destination is most likely Whiskey Peak, after which they will enter the Grand Line."

Gerlo nodded. Beneath the brim of his white hat, the corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile.

"Then all we need to do is make preparations at Whiskey Peak and quietly wait for the targets to fall into our hands."

"Are you one hundred percent certain?" the man with his hands in his pockets asked.

"Of course."

"A Lunarian who relies on his fruit and possesses poor combat fundamentals, along with a fledgling team that has only just taken shape..."

"They stand no chance against me."

He turned and added, "However, Saint Saturn recently gave me an additional mission."

"Oh?"

"Aside from killing that Lunarian and recovering his lineage factor..."

"We are also to capture the Buccaneer Tribe child, Bartholomew Kuma, alive. His lineage factor holds special value for the Pacifista project."

The man with his hands in his pockets whistled.

"Capture him alive..."

"No wonder you specifically asked me to join this mission."

"That's right. I called you here for precisely this." Gerlo finally turned fully around and looked at Fera beside him.

Fera smiled and pulled his hands out of his pockets.

"Then I'll leave the fighting to you. I'll only be catching people."

He turned and walked straight toward the vertical cliff face.

Just as his body was about to crash into the rock—

Fera merged into the Red Line's rock face without resistance, as though he had stepped into water, and vanished.

Gerlo was the only one left behind.

He raised his head and looked toward the sky.

A cloud was drifting toward his position at an unnatural speed.

Gerlo's figure flashed.

The cloud swallowed him, then drifted toward Whiskey Peak.

Quest for Knowledge.

Middle deck cabin.

This was Stockton's small laboratory and library.

An exquisite brass orrery stood in the center of the room.

Planetary orbits turned slowly under the gears' motion.

"Whoa—!" Ivankov's mouth fell open.

"This thing is amazing! Do stars really move like this?"

"Be careful..." Ginny watched them nervously. "It would be terrible if you broke it, right?"

"It's all right, Miss Ginny."

Stockton leaned against the doorframe with a smile, holding a cup of hot tea.

"This room is open for your use because most of the things inside are replicas or teaching tools that aren't easily damaged."

"I keep the genuine ancient texts and precision instruments elsewhere."

After two days together, the people from both ships had grown considerably more familiar with one another.

Lin Nuo and the others had gradually discovered that Stockton and his sailors truly were merely scholars and explorers who loved the ocean, history, and nature.

Their wariness slowly faded, and an atmosphere of friendship began to emerge.

Only the five merchant ships that had been traveling alongside them while always keeping several hundred meters away still showed no intention of drawing close or interacting.

Leaning against a bookshelf on the other side of the room, Lin Nuo watched the distant silhouettes of those ships trailing behind them and found it a little amusing.

It was his first time encountering a "socially anxious" fleet in this world. It was rather novel.

"Stockton," Lin Nuo said as he withdrew his gaze and walked to the table, "I've always been curious..."

"Why is the Red Line's rock so vastly different from land elsewhere in the world?"

"And why is the Grand Line's magnetic field so chaotic? What does a Log Pose rely on to lock onto the magnetic field of the next island?"

He asked several questions in one breath.

Stockton set down his teacup, and his eyes behind the lenses lit up.

"Excellent questions! The analysis of the Red Line's geological composition has always been a difficult problem in geology."

"The prevailing theory is that it was the result of some kind of intense global geological activity in ancient times..."

"As for the Grand Line's magnetic field—"

"One hypothesis suggests that this planet once stopped rotating, causing the magnetic poles across the entire world to reverse..."

"And the Red Line was land that got flung together during that halt in rotation."

"Still, that idea is a bit bold. Just take it as something to consider."

Lin Nuo listened with great attention.

The other man had many bold conjectures that were not without merit, and Lin Nuo gained quite a lot from them.

When the questions and answers came to a pause, Stockton picked up his teacup but did not drink.

He looked cautiously at Lin Nuo.

"Mr. Lin Nuo, these past two days, you've been the one asking questions."

"In exchange, could I... presumptuously ask one as well?"

Stockton lowered his voice.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"I've always felt that... the wings on your back aren't decorations."

"They're real wings..."

"Could you be... one of the legendary God's Tribe?"