"Quiet!"
Marco barked, his voice carrying a rare severity.
He turned to Whitebeard, speaking fast. "Pops, this is too absurd! Could it be fake news? Or some kind of World Government scheme?"
Whitebeard slowly shook his head.
"Morgans might like exaggerating, but he wouldn't joke about something like this," he said in a low voice, his gaze drifting to the distant horizon—as if it could pierce space itself and see the gash torn through the Red Line.
"And besides… I can feel it."
He paused, then said something that made everyone's hearts clench.
"The sea's 'voice'… has changed."
"The balance has been completely shattered."
Whitebeard lifted his bowl, but didn't drink. He simply watched the liquor sway inside.
"The shackles that held things together were smashed overnight. What comes next…"
He raised his eyes, sharp as a hawk's.
"An age of freedom unlike anything before… or a darker age of chaos?"
On the Moby Dick, the joyful banquet atmosphere was gone without a trace.
The bonfire still burned, the roast meat still smelled good—but no one had the appetite.
Everyone was trying to digest a piece of news that could overturn everything they thought they knew, and the air was thick with unease and fear of the unknown.
…
Elsewhere, in another stretch of sea.
The Red Force.
Shanks stood at the bow, pinching the newspaper that had arrived not long ago.
The sea wind tugged at his black cloak and ruffled the paper's edges.
He read slowly, carefully, as if he meant to pry fragments of truth out of those vague, hedging lines.
The easy smile he usually wore was nowhere to be found.
His brow was tightly knit; even the scar over his eye looked deeper.
Not far away, Ben Beckman leaned against the rail, quietly smoking, the wind scattering the smoke.
But his eyes never left Shanks's back—or the paper in his hands.
"Hey, boss, what's it say?" Lucky Roux asked around a mouthful of chicken leg, his words muffled. "You've been reading for like ten minutes."
Yasopp wiped down his beloved rifle and glanced over as well.
Shanks didn't answer right away.
After finishing the last word, he folded the paper gently—slowly, solemnly.
Then he turned to face his crew.
"Beckman. What do you think?"
He didn't answer Lucky Roux directly.
Beckman blew out a smoke ring. His voice was steady, but weighed with a rare heaviness.
"If Morgans is running a headline like that… then even if only thirty percent of it is true, it's terrifying."
Shanks nodded.
He handed the paper to the hopping Lucky Roux.
"Mary Geoise. Pangaea Castle. The core of the World Government."
Shanks's voice was unusually clear in the wind.
"According to the paper, it 'seems to have vanished for unknown reasons.' A massive breach has opened in the Red Line, forming a new strait."
"Pff—!"
Lucky Roux sprayed a mouthful of chicken, eyes bulging.
"V-vanished?"
"Boss, you sure it doesn't mean 'captured' or 'attacked'—it says 'vanished'?"
Yasopp froze mid-wipe, his mouth slightly open.
Other officers crowded in, shock written all over their faces.
"How is that even possible?!"
Someone shouted.
"That's Mary Geoise! The World Government's lair! Where the Celestial Dragons live!"
"Even if the Yonko crews teamed up, breaking in would still—"
"It's not a question of breaking in," Beckman cut in, crushing his cigarette out.
"The paper uses the word 'vanished.' That word is… delicate."
Shanks walked to the rail and looked out at the blue sea.
"Balance…" he murmured, repeating the word with the same grim realization Whitebeard had felt.
"The most important weight keeping this world's surface balance… is suddenly gone."
"So what happens now?" Yasopp asked.
"Chaos," Beckman answered succinctly.
"Every force that was suppressed by the World Government, restrained by it, or tied to it by利益—will start moving."
"The Marines will fall into massive confusion and lose their sense of direction. The underworld will reshuffle."
"And the ones who were lying low—wanted men, the ambitious types—will go crazy like sharks smelling blood."
"Including Blackbeard?" Lucky Roux asked.
A cold glint flashed in Shanks's eyes.
"He won't miss an opportunity like this."
He paused.
"And the Revolutionary Army… even Dragon probably didn't expect things to 'succeed' like this."
Just then, a bright voice—tinged with reflection—came from the side.
"That's why I've always said it: the peak of the Great Pirate Era only truly starts now."
Everyone turned.
Dark King Silvers Rayleigh had appeared on deck at some point, unnoticed.
He held a bottle of liquor, his expression complicated—surprise, sudden clarity, and deep worry all mixed together.
"Rayleigh-san?" Yasopp greeted.
Rayleigh walked to Shanks's side, looking out at the sea with him.
"I just contacted some old friends," Rayleigh said, taking a swig.
"The news is basically true."
"Mary Geoise… is really gone. Not destroyed—more like… 'erased.' The leftover energy and what people saw on site are beyond anyone's ability to understand."
He looked at Shanks.
"What are you worried about, Shanks? Just the chaos?"
Shanks was silent for a moment.
"I'm worried about…"
He spoke slowly. "What kind of 'existence' could do something like this? Why would he do it? And next…"
"What else will he do?"
"The Holy Knights… the Five Elders… and the things even deeper than that…"
Rayleigh lowered his voice.
"Rumor says none of them were spared. This was a decapitation strike—complete, clean, and decisive. Someone with that kind of power and that kind of resolve…"
He didn't finish, but the meaning was obvious.
That wasn't something you could describe as an "enemy" or even a "strong person" anymore.
It might be a variable.
An unknown that surpassed every existing rule and structure.
The Red-Haired Pirates' officers fell into heavy thought.
The sea wind still blew, but a stone seemed to press down on everyone's chest.
They all knew their captain's—and Rayleigh's—worry wasn't excessive.
An existence that could casually erase the World Government—whatever direction it chose to move in would directly decide the world's future.
Blessing? Disaster?
No one knew.