Sengoku glanced at Zephyr and Garp, who were busy singing the Old Man's praises, and sighed.
"This time, the Old Man bypassed all protocol to execute a Warlord. We have no idea how the World Government will react. There's a high probability that some form of disciplinary action is coming down the line."
"What's there to fear?" Garp's expression turned cold. "If those old geezers want to lay a finger on the Old Man, they'll have to ask my iron fist for permission first!"
"Exactly!" Zephyr chimed in. "The last time Lord Rowan took down Doflamingo in Mariejois, did the Five Elders even dare to fart in his direction? Those guys only care about clutching their own power; they don't give a damn about anyone else. I couldn't care less about what they think."
"You two..." Sengoku shook his head again.
But deep down, he knew Garp was right. If a punishment really came down, could he, as Fleet Admiral, actually stand by and let it happen? Likely not. He'd probably be the first one standing right next to the Old Man.
The Grand Line: Thriller Bark.
Gekko Moria, a fellow member of the Shichibukai, stared at the newspaper handed to him by a small zombie. The trademark wicked grin on his face slowly froze.
"Crocodile?"
He recalled the figure he had seen in the New World recently. Moria, a man who feared neither heaven nor earth and had once even dared to challenge Kaido, felt a sudden, cold prickle of dread.
If it were just one Warlord being taken out, he might not have cared. But Crocodile wasn't the first! Aside from the defeat of Hawkeye Mihawk, this was the second Shichibukai Rowan had personally terminated.
The paper didn't detail how Crocodile died, but given Rowan's track record against Mihawk and Doflamingo, Moria doubted Crocodile had lasted more than a few minutes.
Is that old monster really that terrifying?!
The New World: An unnamed island.
Jinbe, the "Knight of the Sea," sat eating grilled fish. He looked at the report delivered by a News Coo, his face etched with gravity.
"Mr. Rowan..."
The Grand Line: Capital of a certain kingdom.
A man sat in a corner tavern, nursing a glass of wine. He had a stern, determined face with a distinctive red, square-patterned tattoo on the left side of his face.
If any high-ranking official of the World Government saw him, they would recognize him instantly. This was the leader of the Revolutionary Army, the man branded as the [World's Most Wanted Criminal].
Monkey D. Dragon.
The mysterious father of Luffy and son of Marine Hero Garp. But in this timeline, he held another title: Rowan's Grandson.
Dragon, who had come to this country to spark a revolution, stared at the newspaper with a look of melancholy.
"Old Man, oh Old Man... you're already at such an age. Can't you just enjoy your retirement? You just keep stirring things up..."
The front page was, of course, the news of Rowan executing Crocodile and dismantling the crisis in Alabasta.
Creak.
The tavern door groaned open, and several individuals dressed similarly to Dragon filtered in. These were the core executives of the Revolutionary Army.
"Mr. Dragon, everything is ready. When do we begin the operation?"
A young man with wavy blonde hair and a scar over his left eye sat down across from Dragon. This was the Revolutionary Army's Chief of Staff and second-in-command: Sabo.
As a top revolutionary, Sabo's bounty was a staggering 602 million Berries—seven million higher than Ace's after his first year at sea.
However, Dragon didn't respond immediately. Sabo frowned and leaned in, curious about what was holding his leader's attention. "Mr. Dragon? What are you looking at?"
Dragon, snapped out of his reverie, jumped slightly. Seeing it was Sabo, he composed himself. "Sabo? Is the operation prepared?"
Before Sabo arrived, Dragon's mind had been flooded with memories of Lord Rowan. He remembered being a small child in the East Blue, left in the care of his father, Garp. But Garp was always busy chasing the Rocks Pirates and had little time for him.
It was Rowan who had visited him most often. While the time spent with "Grandpa Rowan" was precious, those "Fists of Love" were also etched into his memory. Even now, Dragon couldn't help but shiver at the thought of Rowan's special training.
Later, under Garp's guidance, Dragon joined the Navy. But it didn't take long for him to witness the deep rot and corruption within the World Government. He deserted and founded the Revolutionary Army. He hadn't seen Rowan since.
Last month, when he heard Rowan had been surrounded by four Emperors, he had immediately scrambled for a ship to head to the New World. If a war had broken out, Dragon would have absolutely intervened to save the Old Man. Fortunately, the Yonko were repelled by Garp and the others.
Dragon noted that Rowan's recent actions were becoming more and more frequent—a far cry from the low-profile way the Old Man used to operate. But with a revolution to lead, he couldn't dwell on it for long.
Sabo scratched his head. Did Mr. Dragon even hear what I said? "Mr. Dragon, the operation is fully ready. We're just waiting for your command."
Dragon set the paper down and looked out the window, his eyes narrowing. "In that case, let's move."
"Understood."
The executives followed Dragon out of the tavern. But before leaving, Sabo cast a curious glance at the newspaper left on the table. When he saw the kindly, smiling face of the old man in the photo...
Boom.
Fragmented, familiar images flashed through Sabo's mind, making his head throb.
The New World: Red-Haired Territory.
Shanks held the paper handed to him by Benn Beckman. He shook his head and called out to Mihawk, who was meditating nearby.
"Hey, Mihawk! There's more news about your Master."