Top floor, Fleet Admiral's Building.
The long corridor echoed with hurried footsteps.
Heavy. Urgent. Slightly uneven.
KING felt like his lungs were about to explode.
The three terrifying presences in the plaza were no longer behind him, yet phantom pressure still crawled up his spine.
(Too terrifying…)
(That wasn't Marineford… that was hell…)
(Sakazuki looked like he wanted to roast me alive…)
(Kuzan definitely wanted to freeze me into an ice statue…)
(And Borsalino… he looks like the type to ask if I've ever been kicked at the speed of light…)
He walked faster.
Behind him, the elite guards assigned to protect the Fleet Admiral's office watched in stunned disbelief.
In their eyes:
This man moved with urgent purpose.
His rapid stride carried the weight of someone racing toward a decision that would shape the era.
He did not spare them a glance.
He reached the doors.
And pushed.
BANG—!!!
The heavy mahogany doors burst open and slammed against the walls.
KING rushed inside, momentum carrying him forward before he braced both hands on his knees, bent over like a collapsing pillar.
"Huff… ha… huff…"
His breathing echoed sharply in the vast office.
Sweat soaked his back.
His bangs clung damply to his forehead.
Shock was written across his face.
At least, that was how he perceived it.
Behind the desk, Sengoku slowly set down the document in his hand.
A calculating light flickered behind his glasses.
On the sofa, Monkey D. Garp paused mid–senbei bite.
The air stilled.
KING finally dragged in enough air to think.
He was still deciding whether to kneel and beg forgiveness when Sengoku spoke.
"So eager to arrive…"
He adjusted his glasses, gaze lingering on KING's heaving chest.
"You even consider catching your breath a waste of time?"
He stood.
Admiration crept into his voice.
"Or… are you telling us that the fighting spirit within you can no longer be contained?"
KING froze.
Fighting spirit?
I was running for my life!
Before he could respond—
CRUNCH.
Garp bit through a senbei.
Then burst out laughing.
"Pwahahaha! Sengoku, I told you this kid's a monster!"
He pointed at KING, shoulders shaking.
"Faced with provocation from those three brats outside, you held back instead of attacking and rushed here to report!"
Garp leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"KING… were you worried that if you fought in the plaza, you might destroy half of Marineford?"
KING's lips twitched violently.
No!
I was worried about being turned into charcoal!
What terrifying fantasy are you two imagining?!
Garp grinned wider.
"Facing an Admiral and choosing restraint instead of retaliation… is that the mentality of an ordinary youngster?"
KING wanted to scream.
Sengoku cleared his throat.
The room returned to solemn stillness.
"Now that you are here, we will proceed."
He stepped around the desk, holding a freshly sealed document.
"KING."
"Regarding your conduct in Loguetown, East Blue — intimidating the Revolutionary Army Commander-in-Chief and resolving a major crisis without escalation — you demonstrated both restraint and power capable of influencing world stability."
He paused.
"After emergency consultation between Headquarters and the World Government, it has been decided…"
His voice firmed.
"…to promote you to Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters, effective immediately."
KING blinked.
Vice Admiral?
"And concurrently," Sengoku continued,
"…you will serve as Chief of Logistics, Marine Headquarters."
Logistics.
Chief.
Of Logistics.
The words pierced through KING's lingering terror like divine revelation.
Logistics meant:
warehouses.
supply depots.
inventory offices.
paperwork.
quiet offices.
rear-line safety.
No pirates trying to kill him.
No admirals radiating volcanic heat.
No sudden battles.
Just quiet rooms.
Tea.
Documents.
AFK heaven.
This wasn't promotion.
This was paradise.
(Holy… this is incredible!)
(If I hide in logistics, I can live peacefully until retirement!)
Joy surged violently through him.
His stiff facial muscles began twitching uncontrollably.
His mouth stretched into a wide, unsettling grin.
To him, it was relief.
To Sengoku, it looked like naked ambition.
The Fleet Admiral's heart tightened.
This man's desire for authority was… direct.
The Logistics Department controlled:
supply distribution to all branches
research funding allocation
weapons development provisioning
fleet resupply priorities
It held the Navy's lifeline.
Sengoku had planned carefully:
Place him where every branch and vice admiral must deal with him.
Let influence build naturally.
After several years, he would possess unmatched connections.
Then he could command fleets… perhaps even contend for Admiral.
Sengoku watched him closely.
Was this monster too ambitious?
Or precisely what this era required?
Suddenly—
BOOM!!
A violent shockwave burst through the room.
The teacup shattered.
Scalding tea evaporated before touching the floor.
Garp stood.
His jovial expression vanished.
An overwhelming pressure flooded the office.
His coat snapped in invisible wind.
"Don't get cocky, brat!"
His voice thundered.
"Logistics?"
"Is that a retirement home for someone like you?!"
He stepped forward.
The floor cracked.
"Sengoku may be going soft… but I'm not!"
Garp's presence surged like a mountain about to collapse.
"Someone with your potential — if you don't endure the baptism of my Iron Fist of Love… if you don't master Haki…"
His eyes burned with fierce conviction.
"That would be the greatest waste this sea has ever seen!"
Haki… Haki?