Chapter Twenty-Nine: G8 Fortress

Immediately, Buffon recalled Spandam in his mind and realized that his dislike for this man was genuine, a disgust that came from deep within. Perhaps it was because he had once tormented Robin. Suddenly inspired, Buffon’s steel needle flashed once more, and he sewed the leather mask tightly onto Spandam’s face.

Hinai, standing nearby, watched with a mixture of shock and delight—shocked by Buffon’s boldness, delighted because she, too, deeply detested Spandam, a scoundrel who would stop at nothing for promotion. To have that mask permanently stitched to his face—surely when he awoke and discovered this, he would be driven to despair. And if he ever learned that all the scars on his face had been healed beforehand, well…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Buffon’s cold voice: “Marine, you saw nothing.” Hinai, meeting those deep, ocean-blue eyes, nodded almost involuntarily.

Buffon then raised his foot and kicked Spandam in an arc back onto his own warship. Hinai had no time to say anything further to Buffon and hurriedly followed that trajectory.

Within minutes, both ships set sail once more, and Hinai returned to Buffon’s vessel, her curiosity thoroughly piqued by this enigmatic man. Seeing Buffon still cold and aloof, clearly uninterested in conversation, she took the initiative to offer him a cigarette. When Buffon waved it off, she lit one for herself and simply stayed by his side.

Neither spoke a word for the entire journey to G8 Fortress. Buffon, for his part, was not only uninterested in conversation, but was also engrossed in his “Character Compendium,” having just acquired a skill called Machiavellian Tactics from Spandam—something he had never encountered before.

Hinai, meanwhile, smoked quietly as she studied this mysterious man, searching his every move for the slightest clue. Yet she found nothing. For the entire four-hour voyage, Buffon remained silent and revealed not a single detail that might give away his identity.

When they reached G8 Fortress, Hinai, full of unanswered questions, set off on her return voyage. As for consulting Vice Admiral Tsuru, that was not something she would do—at least, not yet.

Thus, Buffon once again concealed a power now rivaling the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

G8 Marine Fortress was a naval base located within the Grand Line, serving as headquarters for the G8 division. Its structure was ring-shaped, with only a single entry and exit point. In the center of this ring stood a solitary island, armed with 188 cannons—a veritable impregnable fortress at sea.

As soon as Buffon disembarked, he heard the singing of marines in the air: “Ironclad G8 Fortress, pirates keep away! 188 cannons await you, sailors guard the peace…”

Hearing this, Buffon nearly laughed. These days, few pirates dared attack this fortress, and yet they resorted to singing to maintain the morale of their men. The commander here was certainly resourceful.

It was not long before Vice Admiral Jonathan, who was privy to the details of Buffon’s visit, received him.

This shrewd and calculating vice admiral gleaned little from Buffon’s cold demeanor, but, having received instructions from Tsuru, was eager to observe this man’s corpse-stitching technique for himself. Tsuru had also urged him to win Buffon over if possible, and Jonathan knew he would need to observe carefully before making any plans.

He first brought Buffon to the fortress’s mess hall, where his wife, Jessica, the head chef, served Buffon a seafood feast. It had been a long time since Buffon had truly enjoyed a good meal, and while he was deeply satisfied, his face remained impassive as ever. He offered only a brief word of thanks to Vice Admiral Jonathan.

After the meal, Jonathan led him directly to the fortress’s cold storage, where coffin after coffin was stacked high. Buffon, well-versed in the ways of the Marines, knew that the G8 Fortress, being largely out of conflict, likely received these corpses from other divisions. Even so, the sheer number surprised him.

Seeing Buffon’s silence, Jonathan explained, “Most of these are the remains of ordinary soldiers. I hope you won’t treat them any differently on account of their rank or status…”

Before he could finish, Buffon interrupted, “I don’t distinguish between the dead based on who they were in life. Whether world nobles or commoners, to me, they are all the same.”

Hearing this, Jonathan found himself feeling a rare sense of respect for the pirate before him.

For years, G8 Fortress had taken on logistical duties, including the collection and care of the bodies of fallen Marines. Yet those of lower rank were often neglected by headquarters, left to be forgotten. Jonathan himself had long been troubled by this, but Buffon’s attitude toward the dead reassured him. At least, these quietly sacrificed souls had not been forgotten by headquarters. In Jonathan’s eyes, every Marine who died in duty was a hero, deserving of equal treatment in death.

Buffon stepped forward, opened a coffin, and glanced inside. “Are these all recent?” he asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “Most are, but some have been here longer. Many were orphans, with no one to claim them after death. Others… were Marines who betrayed justice, secretly executed and stored here.”

At the mention of “betraying justice,” Buffon couldn’t help but sneer inwardly: The Marines are nothing more than tools of the Celestial Dragons; what justice is there, truly?

At that moment, he spotted a corpse set apart in the far corner of the cold room, not even placed in a coffin. From the immense size and preserved pose, Buffon was startled. Was this not the former Vice Admiral Jaguar D. Saul?

This was the man who, over a decade ago, had rescued Robin during the Buster Call on Ohara, only to be frozen by his friend Kuzan. Buffon suspected Kuzan had later released Saul in secret, for during the Ohara incident, Saul had destroyed several Marine warships to protect the scholars and townsfolk. Even if he had been brought back, he would have been executed. The Marines would never allow such an open traitor to live.

So, his body is here, Buffon thought. He said aloud, “So, am I to take all of these with me?”

“Yes,” Jonathan replied. “Someone will arrange for them to be transported to your ship. As for the older ones, I hope you’ll find a proper place to lay them to rest. After all…”

He left the rest unsaid, and Buffon did not press. He understood the vice admiral’s unspoken thoughts. The long-forgotten dead would only continue to languish, unclaimed, if returned.

Just then, Buffon heard a faint sound from within one of the coffins. He rushed over and lifted the lid, revealing the “corpse” of a Marine whose upper body was slashed and bloodied, but whom Buffon immediately saw—without even touching him—was still alive.

“When was he brought in?” Buffon asked.

Jonathan checked the records. “Yesterday.”

From the question and the situation, Jonathan, ever sharp, instantly grasped what had happened. “Those incompetent medics!” he cursed, and ran out to summon help.

Buffon ignored him, switching to his Horm-Horm Fruit abilities and administering a surge of adrenaline to the Marine. In the past, Buffon could only stitch up wounds and leave the rest to fate. But now, with the power of the Horm-Horm Fruit, things were different.

The Marine’s heartbeat grew noticeably stronger. Buffon stitched the wounds with incredible speed—organs, blood vessels, muscle, skin—leaving not a single detail overlooked. By the time he set the final stitch, Jonathan and the fortress’s doctor had arrived.

Seeing the Marine breathing and his wounds expertly closed, Jonathan instinctively rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“What are you waiting for? Get him a transfusion, quickly!”

Snapped out of his daze, Jonathan immediately ordered the ship’s doctor, who had been frozen in shock, to move the patient to the infirmary.

Buffon’s cold voice came again: “Have someone check if anything has been missed.”

His tone was still icy and commanding, making it impossible for Jonathan to even think of objecting.