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"Turning pirates against each other without risking a single Marine life—that is the true purpose of the Warlord project."
Sengoku met the gaze of the Five Elders, his expression unreadable behind his round glasses.
The Great Pirate Era had raged for five years. The old guard, like Whitebeard, still held immense power. New titans like Big Mom, Kaido, and the Thunder Emperor had risen alongside them.
An endless stream of ambitious rookies kept pouring onto the Grand Line, swelling the ranks of the lawless. A direct confrontation was suicide. They needed a smarter approach—cunning over brute force.
"Hmph. Compromising with pirates... typical of your strategist style, Sengoku. Forgive me, but I cannot agree." Akainu shot Sengoku a contemptuous look and stormed out of the council chamber.
He was loyal to the Navy, devoted to the World Government, bound to his duty. Yet he would never bow to evil. That was a line he would not cross, even on direct orders.
Zephyr stared at Sengoku, his eyes filled with disappointment, pain, and disillusionment. He wrestled with himself for a long moment, then released a heavy sigh and followed Akainu out.
What was the point of being a Marine anymore?
Their dissent, however, did not sway the outcome. The Five Elders, intrigued by Sengoku's proposal, began to weigh its merits.
"The Warlord project... turning pirates against each other? Are you certain this will work? What if they see through it?"
"What if they do?" Sengoku countered calmly. "Pirates are driven by self-interest. Offer them legitimacy, the legal right to plunder... and countless ambitious fools will jump at the chance."
He was confident in the plan, the product of countless sleepless nights from the Navy's best strategic minds. He glanced at the door Zephyr had just exited through.
"And to appease men like Zephyr, those whose loyalty to the Navy is absolute, we add one condition: while these Warlords are granted power and freedom, the moment they step out of line, the World Government will eliminate them without hesitation."
"Will that not give the pirates an opportunity to exploit the system?" Saint Shepherd Ju Peter asked, frowning.
"The Warlords who join will each have their own reasons, their own goals. They need the power and status the World Government grants them. It is a relationship of mutual exploitation," Sengoku explained, laying out the intricate web he had woven. "We use them to weaken the other pirates, while simultaneously pitting the pirates against the government's dogs. It is a win-win."
"Excellent."
"Approved."
The Five Elders gave their assent, looking at Sengoku with newfound respect. "Truly worthy of the name Sengoku the Strategist. A flawless plan."
"The World Government authorizes its immediate implementation."
"Meeting adjourned."
—
Five days later. Grand Line. Spring Queen City.
The most prosperous city on the first sea route of the Grand Line, Spring Queen was an ancient metropolis located relatively close to the Sabaody Archipelago.
It was an island blessed with eternal spring—beautiful scenery, a pleasant climate, and abundant resources.
Coupled with the exceptional leadership of its Queen, the city attracted a constant stream of pirates and merchant ships seeking supplies. This constant exchange with the outside world, combined with the stable magnetic fields in the surrounding waters, had naturally led to its immense wealth and prosperity.
"FWOOSH!"
"FWOOSH!"
Two figures skimmed across the surface of the sea, their speed blurring their forms into long afterimages. The wake they generated churned the ocean into a massive wave.
Redfield and Arthur moved almost in perfect synchronization, their speed nearly identical, too fast for the naked eye to follow.
After circling the entire island city, they finally slowed, stepping onto the bustling main port, which teemed with dozens of docked ships.
Despite five days of nonstop, full-speed travel, neither man showed the slightest sign of fatigue.
The port was a riot of activity. People crowded the docks, their faces wreathed in smiles. Ships constantly arrived and departed, their crews disembarking peacefully, adhering to the city's rules.
"Roger once told me," Redfield said, his voice tinged with melancholy as he surveyed the scene, "—as long as the pursuit of freedom continues, the wheels of the era will never stop turning. The old guard fades, and sooner or later, someone stronger always appears."
He released a sigh.
"I did not believe him then. It was not arrogance... it was just that the men of my time—Roger, Shiki, Whitebeard, myself—we seemed invincible, unmatched throughout history. I thought only our deaths would allow a new generation to rise. How naive I was."
"Yet I believe him now. Roger's foresight was truly terrifying. You are the one who has risen on the tide of this new era, Arthur. And one day, someone stronger still will appear to take your place."
A flicker of sadness crossed Redfield's sharp features.
"Roger was impressive, I will give him that," Arthur said, standing at the edge of the high port wall, looking down at the sprawling city below. His voice was utterly matter-of-fact. "Yet he was wrong about one thing. After me, there will be no one stronger."
The world might be vast, yet there could only be one true, undisputed ruler. From this day forward, it would be him.
"Heh... hehehehe!" Redfield chuckled, the sound dry and rasping. "That colossal ego of yours... you really are the most arrogant pirate on the seas."
"I am not joking," Arthur replied simply, giving Redfield a cool glance. He did not bother explaining his grand design.
"Let us go. The fruit is not far."
He spoke as if the Vampire Fruit were already in his possession.
When two men of their caliber appeared together, unless their prey fled instantly, death was the only possible outcome.
They chatted idly as they walked along the neat, bluestone streets, heading toward the outskirts of Spring Queen City.
According to the intelligence, Vladimir—the Earl of Spring Queen City and user of the Vampire Fruit—resided in an ancient castle just outside the city limits and rarely ventured out.
—
Not far from the port, inside a noisy, smoke-filled gambling den.
A man sat quietly at a dice table, waiting. He wore thick, purple robes and a heavy cloak that enveloped his entire body. Cross-shaped scars stretched from his temples down past his eyes. He carried a simple wooden cane.
He was blind, middle-aged, with a scruffy beard. He looked unassuming, yet radiated an aura of immense power. This was Issho, the man who would one day be known as Admiral Fujitora.
The dealer, seeing Issho's blindness, subtly manipulated the dice under the cup, changing the winning roll from big to small.
Yet such cheap tricks were useless against a man whose Observation Haki was among the strongest in the world.
Issho knew he was being cheated, yet he remained calm, placing his bet on the correct number once more.
Suddenly, his hand froze. His blind eyes turned toward the open doorway, toward the bustling street outside.
'Such powerful auras,' he thought. 'And their destination... it seems to be the same as mine? Earl Vladimir?'
Though blind, he saw more clearly than anyone. Though he had no eyes, his perception locked onto Arthur and Redfield the moment they passed, an invisible pressure settling upon them.
The two emperors stopped, turning their heads. Their gazes cut through the throng of people to meet Issho's blank, white eyes across the distance.
'I hear the roar of violent thunder,' Issho mused, 'like the irresistible wrath of heaven itself. To command such ferocious lightning... it must be the Thunder Emperor, Arthur.'
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