"Mama, everyone on the seas currently knows the exact threat level the Legendary Four Brothers pose to the World Government. Naturally, the global regime has logged the same intelligence," analyzed Charlotte Mont-d'Or, the Minister of Bureaucracy. "Previously, they simply hadn't completed the necessary tactical blueprints to launch a strike. But this sudden, massive mobilization against the Revolutionary Army is an explicit operational campaign engineered to liquidate their Chief of Staff, Sabo. The Navy will mathematically refuse to halt their advance easily this time."
"Precisely." An icy, lethal gleam flickered deep within Big Mom's eyes. Her absolute hatred for the Legendary Four Brothers had broken all structural constraints.
This made twice now! She had been subjected to back-to-back, defining defeats by the exact same group of upstarts.
"However, since we anchor an adversarial relationship against both factions, watching them lock horns in an unrestricted war is a layout our networks should gladly embrace. Let those government dogs and subversives tear each other to pieces. Once their resources are completely depleted, we can seamlessly step into the sector to siphon the terminal rewards."
"Consequently, far from registering as a structural disaster for our empire, this global conflict is an exceptional, high-value opportunity."
"Mm, Mont-d'Or's diagnostic analysis is flawlessly accurate." Big Mom nodded smoothly in approval. Her own processing models had mapped the exact same conclusion.
Though her crown as an Emperor of the Sea had been stripped, and her pride thoroughly loathed the active metrics, she recognized that this timeline demanded tactical restraint. At the very least, she required an extended phase of deep seclusion until her biological healing reached 100% optimization.
"Our short-term operational blueprint dictates total focus on resting and consolidating our internal subsystems. As for the superficial mantle of a Yonko—if the global press wishes to redact it from our profile, let them!" Big Mom's eyes suddenly snapped wide, her colossal voice detonating across the central chamber like a physical shockwave. "My absolute, terminal milestone has never been restricted to the trivial throne of a mere Emperor... Mamamama... Mama... Mama!"
"Exactly! Mama is the supreme entity destined to conquer the throne of the Pirate King!" The eyes of her assembled progeny ignited with a brilliant light. The Big Mom Pirates would never permit their empire to slide into permanent obscurity. They still commanded the absolute mass of their Mother!
The title of an Emperor was merely superficial nomenclature; as long as Linlin anchored the apex of their fleet, the low-tier trash and small-time rookies hitting their shores would mathematically fail to alter their structural destiny.
"Katakuri!" Big Mom suddenly snapped her gaze onto the First Officer, who had maintained a perfectly silent, detached posture throughout the briefing. "Moving forward, should any unknown, low-tier pirate syndicates breach our borders to enact a provocation... execute immediate, total liquidation. Do not afford them a single sliver of operational mercy!"
"Understood, Mama," Katakuri complied smoothly, a lethal crimson flash rippling across his eyes.
"Brother Katakuri..." A profound wave of baseline security washed over the Charlotte children the exact microsecond they mapped his focus. Katakuri was the ultimate, flawless monument of strength their entire family revered.
Meanwhile, deep within a localized Marine outpost anchoring a high-stakes sector of the New World, Vice Admiral Garp and former Fleet Admiral Sengoku were sharing a fluid, relaxed conversation, casually crunching on rice crackers while sipping premium tea.
A short timeline prior, Garp's intelligence channels had unsealed the exhaustive telemetry detailing the cataclysmic summit of Wano Country, closely followed by Sabo's catastrophic, high-velocity extraction operation inside the hyper-secure core of Mary Geoise. The sheer magnitude of the global disruption those brats had engineered left his baseline composure pushed to a state of absolute, wide-eyed bewilderment.
And on this specific afternoon, Sengoku had independently closed the distance to his coordinate to initiate a high-level dialogue.
As their boisterous laughter died down, Sengoku's expression gradually hardened into a mask of supreme severity. Locking his eyes directly onto Garp, he questioned softly, "Garp, regarding the operational trajectories of those boys anchoring your family tree... your networks have undoubtedly stabilized the data by now."
"What exactly... is your definitive stance?"
"My stance?" Garp let out a loud, unbothered roar of laughter, tossing another cracker into his mouth. "Bwahahaha! What manner of stance could my vessel possibly adopt? Those brats are actively carving their independent paths across the sea, and I... anchor my own sovereign duties."
"Furthermore, the miles left on my own path are rapidly approaching their terminal limit. The vanguard of this era is heavily populated by fresh blood; the final resolution of these global equations must ultimately rest upon their own shoulders."
Sengoku cast a deeply startled glance toward his lifelong comrade, before slowly pacing over to stand before the wide window, his eyes tracing the sky currents. "True... every independent generation inherits its own sovereign grid to conquer..."
After an extended, dense silence, Sengoku altered the trajectory of the dialogue, his voice dropping into a heavy register. "However... the catastrophic crisis initializing across the globe today is far from an equation this new generation can cleanly resolve. At this exact juncture, even if we throw our own ancient, decaying bones into the furnace... I project it will still be... phenomenally difficult!"
Hearing the analytical breakdown, Garp's casual posture slowly dissolved, sinking into a heavy, brooding silence.
He naturally possessed the necessary data to comprehend exactly what framework Sengoku was referencing. The active combat capabilities commanded by Ace, Luffy, and their brothers could no longer be accurately summarized through the superficial terminology of a 'New Era.' Their physical vessels had cleanly broken past the operational metrics of the vast majority of the old vanguard.
Within the Navy's standard hierarchy, there practically existed zero individual combat units capable of neutralizing their front. Successfully freezing their advance would require Fleet Admiral Akainu to mobilize and lock down 100% of the Navy's global military mass. And even under those extreme parameters, predicting which faction would execute a total liquidation of the other remained an absolute impossibility.
Even an ancient legend like Garp was left experiencing a trace of profound disorientation. His predictive models had entirely failed to map that Ace and his brothers could optimize their biological combat mass at this terrifying velocity. Within a mind-bogglingly condensed timeline, they had forged their vessels into an absolute force capable of violently shaking the structural foundations of the entire planet.
"Your command structure must be privy to the data—this time, the World Government has finalized an absolute, unyielding resolve to launch a total crusade to permanently erase the Revolutionary Army," Sengoku noted, his tone carrying a calculated neutrality. "The primary, high-priority target anchoring their purge is Sabo. The exact microsecond Sabo's survival metrics hit a critical crisis window... I maintain absolute certainty that his brothers will unleash their entire armadas to reinforce his coordinate."
"The moment those lines cross, the scenario will distort beyond our capacity to salvage."
"It will trigger the most monumental, large-scale theater of total war ever recorded across global history—a cataclysm possessing sufficient mass to inflict absolute, terminal devastation upon the entire civilized world." With those final syllables, Sengoku fell completely silent.
After a long, suffocating timeline, Garp suddenly spoke, his voice low and devoid of its usual bluster. "An equation of that magnitude... has cleanly broken past the predictive parameters of old men like you and me."
"Bwahahaha..." Suddenly, Sengoku burst into a warm, roaring laugh, reaching out to slap Garp's shoulder before smoothly returning to anchor himself in his seat. "Excellently analyzed... at this current juncture, the pair of us are nothing more than semi-retired relics of a past era... Hahaha..."
Concurrently, a hidden, highly critical deduction solidified within Sengoku's mind: The combined combat mass commanded by those four brothers has completely shattered all baseline human metrics. My tactical models indicate the Navy does not possess the capacity to emerge victorious against their front. The World Government itself will likely... When the dust settles and the global matrix executes its final shift, exactly what manner of direction the world will adopt—and what structural form the Navy will preserve—can only be steered by a solitary entity... Garp!
Garp continued to stare out at the boundless sky stretching beyond the glass frame, a profound, heavy layer of melancholy momentarily painting his weathered features. But in the next fraction of a second, the emotion vanished without a trace, his face instantly reverting into a mask of absolute, unbothered detachment.
"WHAT THE HELL FORCES REIGN HERE?!"
Suddenly, a frantic, high-decibel screech sundered the upper sky currents of the island cove.
Luffy, who had been actively dominating the joyous atmosphere of the banquet, experienced an instantaneous contraction of his pupils, his entire physical posture snapping into a state of intense, high-alert stress.
A mere microsecond prior, an intelligence scout anchoring the Red Hair Pirates' surveillance network had delivered a massive piece of front-line telemetry: the Navy had unleashed its absolute military mass, initiating an unprecedented, global blitzkrieg to completely purge the Revolutionary Army. And the high-priority node designated for immediate, permanent sterilization was none other than his own brother, the Chief of Staff, Sabo.
The exact microsecond the data hit Luffy's mind, sustaining his casual, festive posture became a structural impossibility. Moving with the blinding velocity of a falling meteor, he broke into an explosive sprint to clear the main clearing. Even as his physical vessel tore through the air currents, his hand instinctively clamped around a colossal platter of meat, his trajectory locked onto the secluded sector flanking the rear of the banquet grounds.
Because his analytical memory verified that Drake was currently anchoring that precise coordinate. He required an immediate, instantaneous line to transfer this catastrophic intelligence to his older brother.
The Red Hair scout who had delivered the report stood completely shell-shocked. He recognized the intelligence carried a global threat level, yes—but he hadn't simulated a reaction of this frantic magnitude from the young captain. You carry the absolute mantle of a Yonko, for god's sake!
Within a fraction of a breath, Luffy materialized across the rear perimeter, tearing through the foliage while continuously vacuuming massive chunks of meat into his mouth.
At that exact coordinate, Drake and Mitian were pacing side by side along a quiet path.
Currently, Drake's internal nervous system was experiencing an immense degree of sheer awkwardness. Facing a breathtaking young woman who had actively preserved her absolute devotion, waiting for his biological vessel to return across fifteen long years—he possessed zero strategic scripts on what manner of psychological protocol to deploy. The baseline reality left him thoroughly uncomfortable; his natural instincts completely loathed this classification of emotional constraint.
Concurrently, Mitian maintained a sterile silence, her steps measured, as if her cognitive models were quietly analyzing the horizon for an impending variable.
The solitary reason Drake had agreed to execute this walk across the forest was due entirely to his unprincipled, newly unsealed father, Daolang, who had essentially weaponized his parental status to force him to invite Mitian out. The old man had ranted about "properly calibrating their mutual perspectives" or some alternative garbage terminology. How was Drake supposed to handle a script like that?
Consequently, the precise fraction of a second his spatial perception mapped the high-velocity displacement of Luffy closing the distance, a massive wave of pure relief flooded his mind.
"Hey! Luffy! Exactly what structural anomaly drove your vessel to clear the banquet grounds?"