Cobra lifted a hand, cutting off Igaram's startled outburst.
"With your ability and your knowledge," he said, eyes fixed on Darren, "you must know of the Ancient Weapons, correct?"
Darren only watched him, smiling—and said nothing.
A bead of cold sweat slid down Cobra's temple. He grit his teeth and pressed on.
"Stories about the Ancient Weapons have circulated across the seas for ages. Weapons of immeasurable destructive power—one strike could erase an island."
"The Poneglyphs themselves record that in ancient times there were three Ancient Weapons, each bearing the title of 'God': Pluton, the King of the Underworld; Poseidon, the Sea King; and Uranus, the King of the Heavens."
"In Alabasta, there is a Poneglyph containing information about Pluton."
"Protecting that Poneglyph—guarding the secret of the Ancient Weapon Pluton—is the sacred duty of the Nefertari family."
He spilled it all out in one breath, as if ripping off a bandage. When he finished, Cobra sucked in air like a drowning man. Beside him, Igaram stood rigid, jaw slack.
"That's everything I know!" Cobra barked, bloodshot eyes burning into Darren's. He ground his teeth. "You think you can trick me?"
The carriage rolled on at a steady pace.
Inside, silence pooled—thick and unsettling.
One second.
Two.
Three.
"Bravo!"
Darren's laughter broke the tension like a gunshot. He clapped—slowly, theatrically—mock applause echoing in the cramped space. "Your Majesty truly lives up to his bloodline. If I didn't already know where Pluton is, I might've almost believed you."
He paused, then exhaled a long plume of smoke.
"No," he corrected, voice softening into something sharper. "You weren't trying to fool me. You gave me a truth that's safe to give—something 'important' enough to satisfy my curiosity—so you could keep the larger secret buried."
Igaram froze, confusion flickering across his face.
A larger secret?
Wasn't Pluton the greatest secret of the Alabasta royal family?
His eyes snapped to Cobra—and he stiffened.
The King of Alabasta sat as if struck by lightning, the color draining from his face in real time.
No…
Surely not—
"I already know where Pluton is," Darren said, that sly, easy smile never leaving his lips. "So I'm not interested in what's carved on the Poneglyph in the royal tomb beneath Alubarna."
Cobra's hand trembled. His face went paper-white.
Darren hadn't even set foot in Alabasta, yet he spoke with absolute certainty about the Poneglyph's location.
That alone was proof.
This man… does he really know where Pluton is?
"H-how…" Cobra rasped, throat gone dry. "How did you find out?"
He couldn't comprehend it. A secret the Nefertari had protected for centuries—how could Darren have dug it up?
Pluton. The Ancient Weapon. A legendary engine of annihilation, said to wipe an island from the map in a single blast.
If a madman like Darren meant to use it, the seas would burn.
"That isn't something you need to worry about," Darren said lightly, winking. "Don't twist yourself into knots. I'm not interested in Pluton right now. Besides… you've heard the rumors, haven't you? I already have plenty of weapons that can level an island."
Cobra and Igaram went still.
Their lips moved as if to argue, but no words came.
Because he wasn't wrong.
Maybe Pluton really did possess the power of legend—but hadn't this same man already proven he could do the impossible?
And he commanded the most terrifying Flying Fleet on the seas. If that fleet ever unleashed its full firepower on a single island, it would be indistinguishable from annihilation, even if it wasn't an "Ancient Weapon."
For the people living there, the difference was meaningless.
"So if Pluton isn't actually in Alabasta," Darren continued, "then there's no need for this 'duty' of protection at all."
He exhaled a smoke ring, unhurried.
"Tell me something I don't know, King Cobra."
"Why didn't your Nefertari ancestors move to Mary Geoise with the other founders?"
Cobra stared ahead, silent.
When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy. "Why should I tell you anything? You're an enemy of the Government, Darren. Alabasta is a member nation. Why would I hand you a secret like that?"
"Because you want the truth as much as I do," Darren replied, calm as stone. "Or because I might be the one who drags it into the light for you."
Cobra blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"You know what kind of filth the World Government is," Darren went on. "What the Celestial Dragons are. What the Gorosei are. I don't need to dress it up."
He gave a small, almost self-deprecating shrug.
"I'm a bastard, sure. I smoke. I drink. I love money and women. I'm depraved."
His smile sharpened, turning dark at the edges.
"But compared to the things the Government and the Gorosei have done… my vices make me look like a saint."
"The massacre at Felsek a few months ago. God Valley twelve years ago." His voice stayed even, but the cold underneath it was unmistakable. "Meticulously planned slaughters—genocides carried out to satisfy the Celestial Dragons' appetites."
"And who knows how many islands, how many nations, how many innocents have died for their amusement over eight hundred years?"
"Alabasta has remained prosperous and safe only because it pays the Heavenly Tribute on time."
He leaned in slightly, gaze steady.
"But who can guarantee it stays that way?"
"The lives of millions of Alabasta's citizens shouldn't hang on a relationship that fragile."
To be continued...