At the same time…
Grand Line, somewhere at sea…
Inside a church in a certain kingdom.
Dragon stood in the shadows of a corner, arms crossed, his face completely hidden beneath a dark green hooded coat. He watched the long line of people ahead with a look of helplessness.
The crowd, thin and ragged, stretched in a long line. At the front stood a towering figure in priestly robes.
He wore frameless glasses and spoke gently to a hunched old man in front of him.
The old man looked frail and drawn, his expression contorted in pain, as if suffering from a serious illness.
After a brief exchange, the large man lightly tapped the old man's body.
A transparent black mass was expelled from him.
Before their eyes, much of the sickly pallor faded from the old man's face, and his complexion grew noticeably rosier.
He touched his own body in disbelief, then burst into tears and hugged the man tightly.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!! Thank you!!"
And so, one after another...
For a full hour, the sick continued lining up to be "healed" at the church.
Once it was over and the crowd had dispersed, Dragon stepped forward and said with a sigh,
"Kuma, are you sure you can keep doing this?"
"They don't realize that the pain you slap away with the Nikyu Nikyu no Mi ends up being transferred to you."
The Nikyu Nikyu no Mi possessed strange and mysterious powers. The user's palms grew pads resembling bear paws that could repel anything they touched—objects, people, even the user themselves—allowing instant teleportation.
More than that, Kuma had developed a way to repel fatigue and pain from the body.
But that pain and exhaustion didn't vanish—they were only transferred. Someone still had to bear them.
Hearing Dragon's concern, Kuma shook his head.
"I'm fine. My body's stronger than most."
He gave a simple, honest smile.
"These are poor elderly folks who can't afford to see a doctor. That's why they come, seeking mercy from the gods… If I can help ease their suffering, then I don't mind a little pain."
"Did you see how happy they were, once their pain was gone? Seeing them smile like that... it makes me happier than anything."
As he spoke, Kuma slowly extended his large, pink-padded hand into a transparent mass of air floating nearby.
His brows tightened, and cold sweat gathered on his forehead.
Dragon sighed again at the sight, his gaze filled with respect as he looked at Kuma.
This was the third country they had visited since setting out together.
According to Dragon's plan, before they could spark true change in the world, they had to travel the seas and gain a deeper understanding of the different nations and their conditions.
By comparing systems of government, wealth disparity, class divides, and more, only through thorough investigation and analysis could they form a lasting blueprint for reform.
But so far, everywhere they had been, all they saw was poverty.
Poverty, natural disasters, Heavenly Tribute, disease, human trafficking...
These deep-rooted issues existed in nearly every country. Even among the wealthy Member Nations of the World Government, the slums hidden beneath the surface were often worse than those in non-member states...
"So, did you find anything?"
Kuma asked hoarsely as he continued absorbing the pain and fatigue he'd extracted from the sick.
Dragon shook his head, his expression grave.
"Poverty is a reflection of the entire world. As long as a privileged class exists, exploitation will never disappear."
"But one thing's certain—our investigations have shown that the oppressed and impoverished are indeed potential allies."
"Maybe... if we can tap into that power and find like-minded people among them, our movement could really grow."
Kuma nodded, eyes full of respect.
"Dragon-san, you truly lived at the core of the Marines. Your insight and vision are far beyond most."
"And that line of yours—'Without investigation, there's no right to speak'... it really hits home now. Feels like an undeniable truth."
Dragon's expression shifted slightly at that.
The truth was, he'd gotten that line from Daren, but with his pride, he'd never admit it.
"Ahem... how are you holding up?"
He quickly changed the subject.
By now, Kuma had absorbed all the pain and fatigue. He was breathing heavily, his face pale and covered in cold sweat.
"I'll be fine... just need a little rest."
He forced a gentle smile, clearly trying not to worry Dragon, then added,
"But we have a problem..."
"What is it?"
Dragon suddenly had a bad feeling.
Kuma scratched his head awkwardly.
"We're out of money."
"WHAT!?"
Dragon completely lost it, clutching his head and glaring at Kuma.
"You gave all our money to the poor again!?"
Kuma gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching his head with an innocent look.
"They needed it more than we did."
Dragon was utterly defeated. His face twitched, a mess of frustration and exhaustion.
"So now we have to go hunt pirates again..."
He groaned in despair, clutching his head like he regretted every choice that brought him to this point.
He never should've brought Kuma along as a partner.
In every country they passed through, Kuma insisted on stopping at orphanages or churches, using his Devil Fruit powers to help civilians.
That would've been fine on its own.
But then he went and spent the bounties they earned from hunting pirates on helping the poor!
And it's not like they were living easy lives themselves—they barely scraped by from day to day!
Worst of all, Kuma was just too kind. No matter how much Dragon yelled at him, he never argued back. He just laughed it off, leaving Dragon with no outlet for his anger.
At this rate, when were they ever going to build their own army...
Besides, he'd already defected from the Marines!
Yet here he was, still running around catching pirates like some Marine errand boy. What the hell was he doing?
Dragon felt utterly hopeless.
"We can't keep doing this. Otherwise, we're no different from the Marines."
No money, no people, no intelligence, no strategy...
Only now did Dragon truly understand what Daren meant when he said, "This is going to be a hard road."
He squatted down and let out a long breath, when suddenly—something caught his eye.
A newspaper.
"What's this..."