Loguetown sat in the East Blue near Reverse Mountain, right by the entrance to the Grand Line. The Marines already maintained a branch base here.
When Ortoren and the others arrived, the local Marines were hard at work with preparations: raising the execution platform in the town square, setting up public broadcast equipment, and establishing security zones.
By now, the preparations were nearly complete. After inspecting the site and finding no issues, the Marines moved into the Loguetown base.
Two days later, everything was ready.
During that time, Ortoren and the others frequently received intelligence updates from the island.
"Crocodile, the Desert King, arrived in Loguetown early this morning."
"Donquixote Doflamingo, head of the North Blue Donquixote Family, also arrived today."
"From the West Blue, Gecko Moria—a notorious figure flagged as a dangerous radical who may fall into piracy—was seen near the port."
"Dracule Mihawk, Hawk Eyes himself, who has spent the past two years challenging swordsmen across the world, has also shown up."
In the base commander's office, Garp sat back like it was his own turf, crunching on senbei while listening to the reports. He waved a hand casually.
"Roger's execution is the first priority. As for these people, as long as they don't stir up trouble in town, leave them alone. No need to invite unnecessary mess."
Chief Staff Officer Tsuru sat at the desk, flipping through the newest reports.
"For now, the New World is unexpectedly calm," she said. "Neither Whitebeard's crew nor Big Mom has made any moves. Compared to them, it seems only Shiki has taken action?"
By the window, Ortoren smoked a cigarette as he gazed out at Loguetown from the high floor of the base. He chuckled at Tsuru's words.
"Those big players are probably still biding their time. But once Roger's execution is over, Shiki's territory will be carved up in the blink of an eye..."
As they spoke, the original Loguetown base commander knocked lightly on the door.
After Garp called for him to enter, he stepped in nervously. Seeing the Marine brass gathered there, he swallowed hard.
"Vice Admiral Garp, the execution preparations are complete. There's about an hour left until noon. Shall we proceed?"
"All set already?" Garp tossed his senbei onto the desk, wiped his hands clean, and stood. "Then let's move. Marines, to your posts..."
"Yes, sir!" The base commander saluted sharply.
Soon, Ortoren, Garp, Kuzan, Sakazuki, and Tsuru led the way out of the base. The Marines inside immediately mobilized, surrounding the square in layers, setting up orderly formations to divide the viewing area and secure the path to the execution platform.
With the Marines taking position, spectators from all seas who had flocked to Loguetown began to fill the square.
It wasn't long before the central plaza was crammed to bursting, the crowd so dense it was suffocating.
Among them stood out the dangerous figures already noted—Gecko Moria, Crocodile, Doflamingo.
But there were also those who remained unnoticed by Marine eyes, like Shanks and Buggy, hidden within the crowd.
One more figure darted through: a sharp-eyed, white-haired boy of fourteen or fifteen, nimble enough to slip through the press until he reached the very front row. Had Ortoren seen him, he would have recognized him instantly.
That white-haired brat was the future "White Hunter" Smoker, destined to become the thorn in the Marines' side.
Ortoren himself didn't head to the execution platform. Instead, as part of the security measures, he climbed to the top of Loguetown's tallest clocktower. From there, he had a full view of both the central square and the execution stage—an ideal vantage point. Should anything happen, he could identify threats at once.
That was precisely how the Marines had arranged it.
As for Garp and the others, they surrounded the platform directly. None of them truly believed anyone would be reckless enough to try and storm the execution site at this point—but with Shiki's record, you could never be too sure.
After all, the remnants of Roger's crew still hadn't been captured.
In Ortoren's memory, the day of Roger's execution had been marked by a sudden downpour. Yet today, the weather was flawless—bright sun, not a cloud in sight, and stifling heat.
Rain seemed impossible.
After all, this was the East Blue, not the New World. The climate here was steady, not absurdly capricious—sun one moment, hail the next.
Ortoren sat on the edge of the bell tower, a cigarette between his teeth. From this height, he gazed out at the endless blue of the East Blue, his thoughts heavy with emotion.
Roger's legend would end here. But would the next child of destiny also set sail from these very waters?
"Destiny... tch, I don't believe in that crap," Ortoren muttered with a chuckle.
It was still early. Those brats with boundless potential hadn't even been born yet. Otherwise, he might've considered taking Nami, Zoro, and the others away right now.
Especially Nami—she was the true backbone of the Straw Hat Pirates. With Luffy's temperament, if you stole his navigator, he might never leave the East Blue, let alone reach the New World as a Yonkō. No chance. He'd be stuck drifting in his barrel forever.
As Ortoren mused, a gentle sea breeze brushed past, tugging at his cloak and setting the word "Justice" on his back fluttering in the wind.
"Creeping up behind me... what, trying to give me a scare?" Ortoren exhaled a plume of smoke.
Even as he spoke, a small whirlwind stirred behind him, and from it emerged the figure of Dragon, stepping out of the wind like a phantom.
"A Logia, huh?" Ortoren raised an eyebrow.
Dragon cast him a cold glance. "You think I'd share such vital information with a traitor? With a despicable man who sold me out?"
Ortoren looked genuinely surprised. "When did I ever promise not to report your intel? I didn't, did I? So where's this betrayal coming from?"
"You—!" Dragon faltered, unable to find a retort.
After a moment, he gave a sharp snort. "Fine, forget that. But what about this talk of me plotting with Roger in the South Blue? When did I ever meet Roger, let alone fight alongside him?"
"That's not something I know. You'll have to ask Garp-san. He's right over there on the execution platform. Go ask him now—you still have time." Ortoren deflected neatly.
Hearing that, Dragon instinctively raised a hand to his face, as if remembering something, before quickly dropping it. "There's nothing for me to say to my old man. He's a stubborn fossil, and I'm the unfilial son who rebelled..."
Clearly unwilling to linger on the subject, Dragon changed tack. "But since you're framing me for Roger, that means there's definitely some hidden truth here. As the scapegoat, mind sharing a bit of the inside story?"
Ortoren flicked ash from his cigarette and gave a faint smile. "Roger was terminally ill, not long for this world. When we found him, there was no battle. In a sense... you could say he surrendered himself."
He paused, then turned his eyes toward the execution platform. Though it stood empty for now, his gaze seemed to pierce into what was to come. He patted Dragon lightly on the shoulder.
"If you want to change this rotten world, first you have to throw it into chaos. Don't you think?"
Dragon looked at him in surprise but stayed silent.
Ortoren carried on, unbothered. "Today marks the opening of a new era. The tide of this age will churn the world upside down. A crisis, yes... but also an opportunity."
...
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