"The Marine Convoy?" Loland asked. He was dusting a speck of dust off his shoulder.
From the deck of the Red Tape , a gunshot rang out. It wasn't a normal bullet; it was a specialized Seastone-tipped round wrapped in Kairoseki dust. It grazed Brant’s shoulder. The Vice Admiral gasped, his stone form flickering and weakening. filedotto loland
It started on a sleepy Tuesday afternoon. Someone—let’s call him “Dave”—attempted to create a new account on an obscure Italian forum for vintage espresso machines. He meant to type "File dot to Loland" as a project name. Instead, autocorrect had a seizure, and was born. "The Marine Convoy
"We are the Archivists of the New World. And soon, every soul in the Grand Line will be neatly... filed." It wasn't a normal bullet; it was a
