New World, Baltigo.
The Revolutionary Army headquarters sat in the heart of the desolate, windswept island. From above, the landscape looked bleached and lifeless, covered in pale earth that stretched to every horizon. But at the island's center, fortresses and strongholds had been carved into the terrain, creating a hidden network of defenses.
Inside one of those fortresses, the world's most wanted criminal, Monkey D. Dragon, sat with a Den Den Mushi before him.
"Moria, don't worry about it." Dragon's voice carried easy confidence. "Just take your men and lay low in Alabasta for now."
On the other end of the line was none other than Gecko Moria. And surprisingly, after abandoning piracy, the man had found a second wind in his career.
As a pirate, he'd been incompetent. In revolution, however, he struck with precision and force.
Moria was thriving in the Revolutionary Army. His considerable strength combined with a decent strategic mind had made him one of Dragon's most trusted operatives. That's right—Moria hadn't wasted away as a recluse for over a decade. Working alongside Dragon had sharpened him, strengthened his abilities, improved his psychological resilience. He was far more capable than he'd been in the original timeline.
After joining the Revolutionary Army, Moria had quickly overcome the painful trauma of losing all his companions years ago. The man valued his comrades deeply, and he'd brought that same loyalty to the Revolutionary Army. That approach had made him surprisingly popular among the ranks.
At first, Dragon hadn't been entirely confident in Moria's abilities. But after several successful operations, Dragon gradually began trusting him with increasingly important tasks. After all, Dragon wasn't someone afraid to delegate power when it was deserved.
And Moria hadn't disappointed. He'd proven himself capable of causing significant trouble for the World Government on multiple occasions.
"Boss, that bastard Crocodile is throwing mud at us." Moria's voice carried obvious irritation through the transponder snail. "I don't know where he gets all his funding, but he's been financing small-scale rebel groups in Alabasta under our Revolutionary Army's name. If we don't do something about it, who knows what kind of blame he'll pin on us next."
Moria was currently in high spirits, brimming with confidence. Since he hadn't become one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, he naturally didn't take Crocodile—a "World Government lapdog"—seriously at all.
Don't think you're so impressive just because you fought this person or that person, Crocodile. I've fought monsters like Kaido head-on!
Plus, the powerful backing of the Revolutionary Army gave Moria additional confidence. He didn't consider Crocodile a real threat.
Shortly after arriving in Alabasta, he'd discovered various irregularities. Crocodile was stirring up trouble throughout the desert kingdom while using the Revolutionary Army's name as cover.
If the CP or Marines investigated, finding the truth would be difficult. But when the Revolutionary Army investigated themselves, things became much simpler. After all, they'd know better than anyone whether they'd actually done these things.
After discovering Crocodile was behind the incidents, Moria had been furious. He'd immediately reported to Dragon, suggesting he simply take his men and eliminate Crocodile right there. Problem solved.
Yes, that's how confident he was.
Dragon couldn't help smiling when he heard Moria's words. He appreciated that fighting spirit.
But after that brief smile faded, he said, "Moria, if this were any other location, I wouldn't doubt you could handle Crocodile. But that's Alabasta. The largest desert country in the world. You're aware of Crocodile's abilities, aren't you?"
"It's just the Sand-Sand Fruit. I don't take it seriously." Moria's confidence was absolute. "Even if he can exert his full strength in the desert, I'm confident I can defeat him."
Over the past few years working under Dragon's guidance, Moria had further developed his abilities and strength. His Paramecia-type Shadow-Shadow Fruit was incredibly powerful—a bug-level ability that manipulated fundamental rules.
In the original timeline, if he hadn't been so complacent and had properly developed his powers, his fight against Kaido might have gone very differently.
"I know you can defeat Crocodile," Dragon said with that same calm smile. "But can you guarantee you'll catch him in a desert country?"
"Ah, well..." Moria fell silent, thinking it through carefully. If Crocodile wanted to escape, he'd simply dive into the desert sand. Catching him would be nearly impossible.
"Exactly. So it's pointless. Unless we can kill Crocodile outright, we can't eliminate the problem," Dragon explained.
"Then what should we do? Just watch him cause chaos?" Moria's voice dropped to a frustrated growl.
"It doesn't matter." Dragon's tone turned calculating. "He likes operating under our Revolutionary Army's name, so let him. Alabasta is no ordinary kingdom. The Nefertari clan descends from the Twenty Kings. Even though Mary Geoise has always been wary of them, they haven't touched them in centuries. There must be deeper reasons. Neither the Marines nor CP will ignore that situation. What's more, Crocodile is directly invoking our flag. Who knows? He might be setting himself up for trouble."
"What do you mean, boss?" Moria seemed to catch on.
"After Crocodile is defeated, who will be held responsible for everything he did in the Revolutionary Army's name?" Dragon's smile widened. "Who's most qualified to take over everything he's built in Alabasta?"
"I see!" Moria's laugh was sharp with understanding. "So you're saying, let Crocodile do the groundwork first. When the time's right, we can even sell him out and arrange for the World Government to capture or expel him. Then everything he's established in Alabasta becomes ours. Kishishishi! Brilliant!"
"That's the general idea. He's using our name, so he can't avoid paying us interest, right?" Dragon's eyebrow lifted.
In truth, there was one more thing Dragon didn't mention to Moria.
Once the World Government truly moved against Crocodile, Dragon would leak information about Crocodile's identity to muddy the waters.
If Crocodile was captured or killed, Dragon would consider him expendable and move on.
But if Crocodile managed to escape, merely stripped of his Warlord title and expelled by the World Government, then Dragon would immediately announce that Crocodile had always been a senior Revolutionary Army officer.
At that point, Crocodile would be truly cornered. With mud falling into his pants, it wouldn't matter if it was mud or shit—nobody would believe his denials.
Without his Warlord status, he'd already be despised by pirates as a World Government lapdog. Add the Revolutionary Army label, and what options would he have left?
Either retire from the sea entirely and live in seclusion somewhere.
Or go with the flow and truly become a Revolutionary Army member.
And Dragon was confident. Once Crocodile joined their ranks, Dragon would keep him close, train him properly, work him hard for a few years. He'd definitely be able to subdue the man.
That way, the Revolutionary Army would gain another powerful general while also inheriting everything Crocodile had built in Alabasta. Wasn't that perfect?
Dragon's plan was solid. Though there were minor loopholes, as long as he adapted to circumstances and filled gaps as they appeared, the success rate remained high.
The old fox lived up to his reputation.
Seeing that Dragon had already made comprehensive plans, Moria didn't argue further. He quickly moved on. "Also, the situation in Alabasta is unstable right now. Prices are skyrocketing. We're running low on operational funds. What should we do? Can you send more money?"
Dragon paused, then said dryly, "You used to be a pirate. Do I really need to teach you how to make money?"
"I had no choice before." Moria's voice carried mock righteousness. "But now I want to be a good person. I'm already a pioneer bravely fighting for humanity's future. Now you want me to go back to my old profession? Isn't that inappropriate?"
"You think you're so noble?" Dragon had a mountain of complaints he wanted to voice.
After a brief silence, Dragon said, "Just bear with it for a while longer. Worst case, rob a few wealthy, corrupt nobles. I don't have much surplus either, but I'll be bringing in a large sum soon. Finn's already entered the New World. After I meet with him, I'll retrieve all the wealth we hid beneath the Red Line after raiding Mary Geoise..."
"All right, understood." Moria's response came quickly.
Soon, both hung up the Den Den Mushi.
After all, the Revolutionary Army operated like rats in the shadows. They didn't have many legitimate revenue streams.
For a long time, the biggest obstacle hindering Revolutionary Army development was actually funding shortages.
Compared to the impoverished Dragon, there was a wealthy man on the opposite side of the New World in Tobacco City.
The Seven Warlords of the Sea. White Hunter Smoker. His headquarters.
In a spacious castle hall, Smoker sat on his throne. Before him stood two groups of people—all his pirate subordinates and allies.
At that moment, one of Smoker's officers was escorting a man forward, forcing him to kneel before the throne.
The tattoo on this man's chest bore the Big Mom Pirates' logo.
He was a minor officer from Charlotte Linlin's crew.
"You'd better let me go, Smoker!" The Big Mom Pirates officer spoke arrogantly despite his position. "Others might fear you as one of the Seven Warlords, but I don't. Once Mama kills Whitebeard, the entire New World will belong to us. If you dare touch me now, Mama will never let you go in the future!"
Smoker said nothing. He remained seated on his throne, three cigars clamped between his teeth, smoke curling upward.
His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest.
Then one of his subordinates stepped forward and slapped the Big Mom Pirates member hard enough to knock him sideways, face swelling immediately.
"You'd better speak politely to my boss," the subordinate growled.
"Huh..." Smoker exhaled a thick plume of smoke.
The smoke transformed rapidly in the air, becoming a rope that wrapped around the Big Mom Pirates officer and lifted him off the ground.
Only then did Smoker stand. He walked slowly from his throne to where the man dangled, pulling one cigar from his mouth.
A cruel glint flashed in Smoker's eyes. He pressed the burning cigar directly against the officer's cheek.
The cigarette's temperature was extreme. The moment it made contact, it seared flesh. The man wailed in agony.
But Smoker acted as if he heard nothing. He pulled out a second cigar and pressed it against another spot on the man's face.
Soon, he'd used the officer's face as an ashtray, extinguishing all three cigars against the man's skin.
After finishing, Smoker spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "In the New World, no one touches my goods. Not in the past. Not now. Not in the future. I don't care if it's Big Mom, Kaido, or Whitebeard. Whoever dares touch what's mine, I'll crush them."
He glanced at his subordinate beside him. "How much did Big Mom steal from us this time?"
"Two fleets carrying precious metals, plus top-quality spices we'd just smuggled in from East Blue. Three ships loaded with gold." The subordinate answered quickly. "Total value approximately seven billion berries."
When war erupts, everyone needs money. Even those who were wealthy and controlled vast territories. The same applied to Big Mom's Totland.
So after encountering the Amway Group's fleet, whether Charlotte Linlin herself had gotten greedy or whether some high-ranking Big Mom Pirates officer had acted on their own initiative remained unclear.
Either way, they'd completely wiped out both of Smoker's fleets.
"Very good." Smoker's voice was cold and final. "Get intelligence from Pleasure Street. Coordinate with the Whitebeard Pirates. Sink fifty of Big Mom's ships, seize her outlying territories, and take control of every country flying the Big Mom Pirates' flag around our borders!"
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