The following morning arrived at Marineford with the typical routine of a military stronghold. The rising sun cast long, sharp shadows across the concrete fortress, and the distant, rhythmic cries of seagulls echoed over the bustling harbor. However, the usual disciplined calm of the headquarters was shattered by a storm brewing inside the highest office. The heavy, reinforced door of the Fleet Admiral's office was slammed shut, but it could not contain the furious roars emanating from within. Outside in the corridor, seasoned Marine soldiers found themselves trembling, keeping their eyes fixed forward and praying they wouldn't be called inside.
"Smack!"
A fresh copy of the World Economic Newspaper was slammed onto the solid wood desk with enough force to make the heavy ceramic teacups rattle and spill. The current Fleet Admiral, Kong, was a man of immense physical presence, and right now, his fury was making the very air in the room feel heavy. His face was flushed with anger as he pointed a thick, trembling finger at the front page. He turned his glare toward Zephyr, who stood stoically before the desk. "Zephyr! Look at this! Open your eyes and see for yourself! Is this the kind of student you are turning out in your Elite Camp? Is this the future of our Justice?!"
Zephyr's face was a mask of dark, unreadable stone. He didn't offer an immediate defense. Instead, he reached up and took a long drag from his cigar, his features momentarily obscured by a thick cloud of swirling grey smoke. He looked like a man who had already processed the shock and was now simply enduring the fallout.
On the nearby sofa, the atmosphere was starkly different. Vice Admiral Garp was sitting cross-legged, looking entirely too relaxed for a disciplinary meeting. He was munching loudly on a bag of senbei crackers, the crunching sound echoing in the tense silence. His curiosity got the better of him, and he craned his thick neck to get a better look at the newspaper lying on Kong's desk.
The front page featured a massive photograph that dominated more than half the layout. In the center of the frame stood Warrant Officer Kane. He looked remarkably composed, standing righteously in front of a backdrop of smoldering ruins and charred debris. Flanking him like dark guardians were the three terrifying figures of Sakazuki and the others. In the foreground, a group of rescued hostages huddled together, but their faces didn't show the relief of the saved. Instead, their eyes were wide, filled with a raw, lingering terror directed as much at their rescuers as their captors.
The headline was written in the unmistakable, sensationalist style of Big News Morgans. The font was bolded, ink-black, and designed to provoke an immediate reaction:
"Sabaody Drenched in Blood! The Marine Star's Demonic Rescue!"
Beneath that, a provocative sub-header asked the world: "Thunder of Justice, or Butcher's Carnival?"
But it was the final line of the teaser that truly twisted the knife: "Exclusive Commentary: On 'A Dead Hostage Is a Good Hostage'—A Quote from a Certain Warrant Officer Kane Who Wished to Remain Anonymous!"
"Pfft ha ha ha ha! Cough, cough, cough!"
Garp suddenly burst into a fit of boisterous laughter the moment his eyes hit that subtitle. The sheer absurdity of the statement caught him off guard, causing him to choke on a mouthful of dry crackers. He sprayed senbei crumbs across the table, some of them landing directly on the face of a very annoyed Sengoku. "A dead hostage is a good hostage? Hahaha! That kid Kane! What a total genius! He actually said it!"
"Garp! Shut your mouth this instant! And get those damned senbei away from me before I lose my temper!" Sengoku shouted, his voice tight with frustration. He reached up to wipe the crumbs off his cheek and adjusted his glasses with a sharp, jerky motion. He looked down at the paper and frowned deeply, his mind already calculating the political damage. "Fleet Admiral Kong, this is becoming more than just a minor disciplinary issue. It is a genuine diplomatic mess. The World Government has already received a flood of formal complaints from the nobles of several affiliated nations. They are claiming that our Marines are openly massacring civilians on the Sabaody Archipelago. It has frightened the national aristocrats to the point where they are starting to discuss a boycott of Marine funding and support."
"Massacred civilians? Is that what they're calling it now?" Fleet Admiral Kong snorted, his chest heaving as he prepared for another explosion of temper. He knew the reality of the situation, but the optics were undeniably disastrous.
Just as the tension reached its breaking point, the office door was pushed open without a knock. Kane walked in, leading his three "accomplices" behind him. His gait was steady, and he wore an expression of practiced, unshakable righteousness. His eyes were clear and projected an aura of absolute innocence. In his hand, he held a neatly written document—a formal self-criticism.
"Reporting, Fleet Admiral! I have seen the morning news, and I feel compelled to state that I believe the newspaper is spreading malicious rumors and unfounded lies!" Kane stood perfectly at attention and snapped a crisp, textbook-perfect salute. His voice was loud, clear, and carried a tone of injured merit.
"We were facing a group of pirates who were not only extremely wicked but were in the middle of attempting to detonate the entire building to kill everyone inside. Given the circumstances, we merely took the necessary and proportional measures to ensure the threat was neutralized. As for the pirates' death throes being slightly... tragic to witness, that is purely a biological failing on their part. They suffered from severe osteoporosis and lacked even the most basic martial virtue. They essentially chose to ram their faces into our fists with great velocity!"
Fleet Admiral Kong's left eye began to twitch uncontrollably. He stared at the young man, wondering if Kane actually believed the words coming out of his mouth. "Ram their faces into your fists? Kane, the report says the Spring Man was smashed so deep into the pavement that his body was barely recognizable. Are you seriously trying to tell me he was trying to dig a hole to escape under his own power?"
"Reporting, Fleet Admiral, we cannot rule out that possibility! Perhaps he was attempting a tactical subterranean retreat and underestimated the density of the archipelago's soil!" Kane replied, his expression remaining as flat and serious as a tombstone.
"Enough! I've heard enough of your silver-tongued nonsense!" Fleet Admiral Kong groaned, sitting back and rubbing his throbbing temples. The headache was reaching a crescendo.
Suddenly, Sakazuki, who had been standing silently in the background like a dormant volcano, stepped forward. As he moved, the ambient temperature in the office began to rise sharply, the air shimmering with the heat radiating from his body.
"Fleet Admiral, if you are searching for someone to assign blame to, I will take the sole responsibility for the outcome of the mission. For scum like those pirates, even if I were placed in that exact situation again, I would kill them all without a moment's hesitation. Kane is right in his assessment—only dead pirates are incapable of making mistakes again. To show mercy to those who break the law is the greatest blasphemy one can commit against the concept of Justice!"
Sengoku and Vice Admiral Tsuru exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. A hint of genuine shock flashed in their eyes as they processed Sakazuki's words. They knew Sakazuki had always been a radical and a hardliner, but he used to be a man who lived and breathed by the established regulations. Now, listening to him parrot Kane's cold, utilitarian logic, they couldn't help but feel that he had been fundamentally reshaped by the younger man's influence.
"Who said anything about assigning blame?"
Vice Admiral Tsuru, the Marine's Grand Strategist who had been quietly sipping her tea throughout the chaos, finally spoke. She placed her teacup back on its saucer with a soft click. Her gaze was sharp and profound as it swept over the four young men, eventually settling on Kane. She saw more than just a rebellious student; she saw a catalyst.
"While the methods used were certainly extreme, the actual deterrent effect on the ground has been excellent. Our intelligence reports from this morning show that the lawless areas of the Sabaody Archipelago are quieter than they have been in decades. Even the number of active human traffickers in the area has dropped by fifty percent overnight. Fear can be a very effective tool for order."
Tsuru stood up and walked over to the large world map pinned to the wall. Her slender finger traced a path across the oceans, gently tapping the location of the North Blue. "However, there is a reality we must face. Given the current strength and the sheer destructive power of you four, it is no longer appropriate for you to continue playing house with the common recruits in the Elite Camp. You have outgrown the schoolyard."
Tsuru turned around, her face softening into a meaningful, almost predatory smile. "Coincidentally, there is a bit of trouble brewing in the North Blue that requires a delicate touch. The Germa 66 Kingdom has recently been using its technological advantage to provoke wars across the region. They are openly plundering nations that are not affiliated with the World Government. Because they target non-affiliated lands, Marineford cannot directly intervene without causing a political crisis."
"However..." Tsuru's eyes sharpened into icy slits. "What if a small group of 'lost' Marine trainees happened to get involved in the Germa battlefield during their personal vacation? If they were to find themselves in a conflict with the Vinsmoke forces by sheer accident..."
Fleet Admiral Kong's eyes widened as he caught the drift of the plan. He reached for his large desk pen and waved it over a set of documents. "Exactly! Since you four have so much excess energy that you feel the need to pulverize city blocks, you can go and take a 'vacation' in the North Blue! Consider it a field trip."
"The mission objective is simple: Make Germa 66 behave themselves. Once you have successfully completed this task and returned, you will officially undergo your Graduation and Commissioning ceremonies!"
Go to the North Blue? Face Germa 66?
Kane's eyes instantly lit up with a predatory gleam. He knew exactly what that meant. That was the home of the Vinsmoke Family! They weren't just a kingdom; they were a walking, floating vault of black technology. They were war profiteers whose accumulated wealth probably rivaled the budgets of entire nations. He had heard rumors that Vinsmoke Judge, that stubborn old man, had spent decades hoarding countless mountains of gold, silver, priceless treasures, and rare materials to fund his dream of dominating the North Blue. To Kane, this didn't sound like a mission; it sounded like a shopping trip.
"Mission accomplished, I guarantee it!" Kane snapped another sharp salute, his voice ringing with a newfound, enthusiastic righteousness. "I deeply detest the way Germa disrupts the peace of innocent people! I will definitely use the power of love and justice to thoroughly enlighten them and lead them back to the right path!"
...Three hours later.
At the Marineford Port, an unmarked, medium-sized warship sat low in the water, ready to depart. It carried no official insignias, making it a ghost ship for a ghost mission.
Kane stood on the upper deck, clutching the transfer order in his hand. He looked down at the words "Proceed to the North Blue to handle the Germa 66 unrest," and his smile became increasingly warped and wide. The potential for profit was staggering.
"Yay~ The North Blue, huh? I've heard the mafia families over there are quite fierce and interesting~" Borsalino was already settled in, lying back on a sun lounger he had brought on deck. His yellow-tinted sunglasses covered his eyes, and he was casually sipping a glass of chilled orange juice. He had adopted his usual philosophy—if you can't avoid the work, you might as well make it as comfortable as possible. "It would be really great if we could find the time to bring back some of the local souvenirs~"
"Germa's long history of sins should finally be settled." Sakazuki stood like a statue at the bow of the ship, gazing out toward the horizon. Tiny droplets of magma flickered at his fingertips, sizzling as they hit the deck. His mind was currently occupied by the radical philosophy of rooting out evil that Kane had spent weeks instilling in him. He wasn't looking for treasure; he was looking for a purge.
Nearby, Kuzan was already fast asleep, his rhythmic snoring muffled by the sleep mask pulled down over his eyes. He didn't seem to care where they were going as long as the nap was good.
"Men! Set sail!"
Kane took his place at the Captain's position, planting one foot firmly on the railing. He waved his hand grandly toward the open sea, looking full of vigor and ambition. He glanced back at his three companions—three men who would one day be known as the highest combat powers of the world—and felt an immense sense of pride in his "investments."
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the North Blue.
Vinsmoke Judge was sitting on the cold, metallic throne of his Mobile Castle. Without warning, he felt a sudden, freezing chill run down his spine. He shivered and then sneezed violently, the sound echoing through the empty hall.
"What's wrong? Why do I have this sudden, ominous feeling...?"
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