At the end of the day, everyone has some degree of selfishness, and Sengoku was no exception.
In a different situation if Sengoku didn't have the backing he now enjoyed. he wouldn't dare to overreach. If a major breakthrough like the new Seastone technology appeared, his only option would have been to report it directly to the World Government and hope for some recognition in return.
But things were different now. For years, Marine's relationship with Claudius had been exceptionally close. Claudius wasn't just some random Celestial Dragon sitting idly in Mariejois; he was a true power player, a heavyweight within the Holy Land's inner circle. His authority rivaled anyone below the Five Elders themselves.
And Claudius had a natural advantage. As long as the Marines didn't pull something outrageous like declaring independence, Claudius could shield them from almost anything.
So naturally, Sengoku saw an opportunity. But this wasn't just about taking advantage of Claudius. He knew better than to let someone like Claudius do all the heavy lifting without giving anything in return. That wasn't how partnerships worked.
As someone destined to become Marine Fleet Admiral in the future, Sengoku understood the rules of the game. Friendship alone wasn't enough to bind two parties together. True alliances were built on mutual interests.
Claudius cultivated his ties with Marine because it benefited his own ambitions. Likewise, Sengoku sought to strengthen the Marines by nurturing his connection with Claudius. It wasn't a one-sided relationship but a give-and-take dynamic.
And now, the fruits of this long-standing partnership were starting to show. With Claudius' support, Marine would soon gain the capability to access the Calm Belt, a game-changer in every sense.
Through Claudius, Sengoku could position this innovation under the guise of "experimental testing." With this classification, Claudius' influence could shield the project from scrutiny by the World Government.
In truth, Sengoku's move wasn't just about technology, it was about the bigger picture. The age of pirates was snowballing out of control. Whitebeard's rise as a "Pirate Emperor" was a reality, and Sengoku had every reason to believe he wouldn't be the last. Soon, there might be a second emperor. A third. Even a fourth or fifth.
How would Marine respond to such a crisis? To truly hold their ground, the Marines needed overwhelming strength, enough to dominate the seas with absolute authority.
If Marine were three or five times stronger than they were now, wiping out the Whitebeard Pirates would be just another day's work. They could restore order to the world without breaking a sweat. But the unfortunate reality was that, while Marine was strong, they weren't invincible. Their resources were limited, their forces spread thin.
And this led to an even bigger problem: Marine's reliance on the World Government for funding.
Marine's budget, its military strength, was entirely dependent on how much funding the World Government allocated each year. Even with the best intentions, Marine couldn't expand its forces beyond the limits of its budget. Justice, while noble, couldn't fill empty stomachs. And no matter how passionate the soldiers were, they couldn't fight for justice on an empty stomach forever.
If the World Government reduced Marine's funding, even by a little, it would be enough to spark internal chaos. There would be no need for pirates to intervene, Marine would collapse under its own weight.
So for years, Marine's growth had followed a step-by-step plan dictated by the World Government's financial constraints. This slow and steady pace ensured stability, but it wasn't nearly enough to meet the challenges of the escalating pirate era.
While the World Government had been generous with funding recently, Sengoku knew this couldn't last forever. The system itself was flawed. The World Government was an enormous bureaucracy, and Marine wasn't its only concern.
In fact, Sengoku understood that the CP agencies were the World Government's true favorites, receiving preferential treatment in both resources and attention.
Although Sengoku didn't have access to the full details, he could guess the situation. The World Government was likely stuck in a vicious financial cycle. Marine's recent budgets may have been generous, but that generosity came at a cost.
The truth was, the World Government had been running at a deficit for years. It was a carefully guarded secret, one that even Claudius was unaware of. But for those paying attention, the signs were clear.
The massive structure of the World Government meant that only a fraction of the taxes collected worldwide actually made it to the central authority. Of the hundreds of billions in taxes collected, only seven or eight billion reached the World Government's coffers.
The rising tide of piracy had further worsened the situation, disrupting trade routes and strangling maritime commerce. Merchants struggled, and as their profits declined, so did the wealth of the nations they operated in. A weakened economy meant lower taxes, and the World Government's revenue continued to shrink.
In response, the World Government had been forced to increase its spending, pouring more money into Marine's military budget and other initiatives to combat piracy.
But even amidst this financial crisis, the Celestial Dragons lived in their own world, oblivious to reality. They spent extravagantly, their opulent lifestyles draining the treasury with no regard for the consequences.
The gap between the World Government's income and expenses had grown unsustainable.
Sengoku could see the writing on the wall. The military budgets of today wouldn't last forever. Two years from now, Marine might find itself facing serious cutbacks.
If there were no other options, Sengoku would accept this fate. But now, there was an alternative, a chance to break free from the World Government's tight grip.
The new Seastone technology for ships had opened a door. With the ability to access the Calm Belt, Marine could tap into untold natural resources. And while Marine wasn't allowed to engage in independent business operations explicitly forbidden by the World Government—Claudius could.
As a Celestial Dragon and head of CP-X, Claudius operated outside the usual restrictions. His pedigree and privileges made him a perfect shield.
Marine could work with Claudius to exploit the Calm Belt's resources, turning them into a new source of revenue. It wouldn't just be about survival, it would allow Marine to grow on its own terms, free from the limits of the World Government's budget.
Of course, Sengoku had no intention of reporting this development to the higher-ups. Instead, he labeled the Seastone technology as "still in testing," ensuring that no one could interfere for the time being. Claudius' support would cover any minor infractions, smoothing over potential complications.
And Sengoku had no doubt that Claudius was just as eager to see this succeed. The prospect of vast wealth and influence in the Calm Belt was too enticing to ignore.
By working together, Claudius could serve as Marine's "umbrella," shielding them from bureaucratic scrutiny while they developed the Calm Belt's resources. With this new revenue stream, Marine could finally break free from its financial shackles.
If the plan succeeded, Sengoku was confident Marine could enter a new era of rapid development. With increased power and resources, they could suppress pirate forces worldwide with ease.
It wasn't a perfect plan there were risks and potential pitfalls but with Claudius covering their tracks, Sengoku believed the partnership was rock-solid.
"Having a backer is a wonderful thing," Sengoku thought to himself with a satisfied smile.
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