Meanwhile, at Dias Island's ramshackle harbor, a small sailboat without any markings quietly docked.
Gern and Dracule Mihawk stepped onto the island, one after the other.
Gern surveyed the mountains of discarded materials and the shabby, dilapidated houses around them. The air carried a mixture of rust and fermenting garbage.
He clicked his tongue and waved a hand in front of his nose, an amused smile spreading across his face:
"Tsk, tsk. Who would've thought the Donquixote Family, second only to that warmongering Vinsmoke family in the North Blue's underground market,
would set up their home base somewhere like this?"
As he walked, he studied the residents on either side, their eyes numb as they busied themselves sorting garbage. His tone was so relaxed that he sounded as though he really had come sightseeing.
Following behind him, Dracule Mihawk seemed oblivious to the foul surroundings-or rather, entirely indifferent.
His sharp, hawklike eyes merely swept over potential threats out of habit.
By this point in their journey, he had long since grown used to Gern's quips. Keeping his gaze ahead, he replied evenly:
"Perhaps that very chaos and obscurity make it easier to hide."
"No, no, no. Our Mihawk is still too 'upright.'" Gern wagged a finger, grinning as he disagreed.
"Hiding is only part of it. More importantly, a place like this is a perfect natural... battlefield buffer zone."
He kicked an empty can out of his path with a clatter.
"Look. Discarded materials and garbage everywhere, no important infrastructure, no industries worth protecting, and only a sparse population, mostly people on society's fringes," Gern explained, his eyes gleaming with insight.
"If an enemy comes knocking, they can fight all-out here without worrying about the destruction.
Once the fight's over, win or lose, they can burn away most of the