"So this is why you came back so late? Mediating a national dispute, and the new queen turned out to be your long-lost sister?"
Stella stared at Michael, whose face was filled with awkwardness, then glanced at the person behind him—Crocodile.
"And you're telling me that's Crocodile? Do you really think I'd believe that?"
"If it were me, I wouldn't believe it either."
Bell-mère nodded repeatedly on the side, echoing Stella's skepticism.
Surrounding Crocodile were five little girls, all looking up at her curiously.
Although Crocodile had returned to her female form, and her height had slightly decreased, she still stood over two meters tall.
"You little brats, what are you staring at me for?"
Crocodile instinctively bit down on a cigar, but under the gaze of ten curious eyes, she ultimately didn't light it.
"Tch, what a pain in the ass... Hey, Michael, get these kids away from me already!"
"Shut up, you damn sand hag!"
Michael shot her the middle finger.
"Can't you see I'm under trial by the tribunal of three here? And you, explain things for me already!"
"Explain what!? If I hadn't experienced this myself, I wouldn't believe it either!"
Crocodile didn't hesitate to form a middle finger made of sand and flipped it back at Michael.
Seeing them about to start a fight, Stella hurriedly cut in to break up the conversation.
"Enough. I don't have the energy to argue with you two. Since you showed the power of the Suna Suna no Mi, no matter how ridiculous it sounds, I have no choice but to believe it... Michael, you should go check on that Hawk Eyes guy."
"He made it?"
"Yeah. Thanks to your rejuvenation technique, although he teetered on the brink of death for a while, he managed to pull through."
Stella nodded.
"Got to admit, he's one tough bastard."
"Of course. He's the future world's greatest swordsman."
"The world's greatest..."
Stella looked at Michael with a touch of horror in her eyes.
"You really think that highly of him?"
"Not highly enough."
Michael shook his head, then left the living room, heading to the room where Hawk Eyes was resting.
...
As he pushed the door open, a strong scent of blood hit him in the face.
It was the smell of fresh flesh constantly regenerating beneath torn and broken skin.
Hawk Eyes was completely wrapped in bandages—Michael had finally witnessed the true meaning of the word "mummy."
His black blade, "Yoru," leaned quietly against the bedside.
Michael reached out and flicked the sword's surface. A crisp hum rang out.
"For a pure swordsman, tempering your blade with Haki over many years until it becomes a black blade— Yeah, that's definitely the best route."
"But for someone like me, who has a Devil Fruit ability, whether the blade becomes black or not really doesn't matter."
At first, Michael had considered forging "Myōjō" into a black blade, but he'd given up on the idea.
After all, he wasn't a pure swordsman—the boost from a black blade would be minimal for him.Not to mention the insane time investment. It just wasn't worth it.
More importantly, his sword was named "Myōjō," not "Satan" or "Lucifer"—
Black simply didn't match the aesthetic.
Power is temporary. Style is forever!
"You... came back?"
Hawk Eyes' eyes suddenly opened, though his voice was still weak to the extreme.
"Had to take care of some personal business... Looks like you're damn hard to kill."
Michael spoke as he reached out and poked a spot on Hawk Eyes' bandaged body, earning a deep, muffled groan.
"...Didn't let you down. I clawed my way back from the edge of hell."
"Tch, your mouth is tough as ever."
Michael smiled and shook his head.
"Alright. Since you survived, that means the old Hawk Eyes is dead. From now on, your life belongs to me."
Michael said it with a smile, but Hawk Eyes heard the tone behind the words—undeniable authority.
But...
"That's exactly what I want."
Under the bandages, Hawk Eyes' face twitched ever so slightly. Michael guessed he might've been trying to smile—
Something he clearly wasn't very good at.
"I was thinking of having you and Crocodile both join the Seven Warlords of the Sea, but now it doesn't seem appropriate... So how about you both join the Navy instead?"
"Turning two wanted criminals into Navy officers... I've got to say, you really never fail to surprise me."
Hawk Eyes' eyes widened—part surprise, part confusion—but there was no rejection.
After a pause, he said calmly:
"As long as you're willing to fight me anytime... then I'll serve under you. But I'll only answer to you. I don't take orders from Navy HQ or the World Government."
Michael smiled at that and nodded.
"Perfect. That's exactly what I want—someone who won't follow orders from Navy HQ or the World Government... Because what I plan to do is overthrow the entire World Government."
And with that, Michael didn't wait to see if Hawk Eyes was even interested—he simply laid out his stance and plans in summary.
What he didn't expect was that, the more Hawk Eyes listened, the brighter the light in his eyes burned.
By the end, his face was practically glowing with anticipation and fervor.
"I knew it. There's no way someone like you would side with the World Government! Creating a new world... how interesting! It's damn interesting! Hahahaha—cough, cough, cough—"
"Alright, laugh a bit quieter. That outburst just cost you a few more days in bed..."
Michael dropped a Holy Light spell and walked out of the room.
The little brats were still waiting on him to tell a story.
As he walked back to the living room, his Den Den Mushi suddenly rang.
"Hello? Who the hell's calling this late?"
"Ahahahaha! Michael! It's me, Garp!"
"...Damn it! Garp, you old fart. You're seriously calling this late just to harass me?"
Michael rolled his eyes, and the Den Den Mushi perfectly mimicked the smug, gleeful expression of the old man on the other end.
Garp, apparently oblivious to Michael's insults, continued laughing heartily as he said:
"Listen up, Michael!"
"That brat Dragon actually had someone send his kid to Navy HQ!"
"If Rouge hadn't taken Ace out for a walk, we probably wouldn't have found out!"
Michael fell silent.
He was just completely speechless at Garp and Dragon—these two father and son were both nuts.
The size of their guts... damn.
Especially Dragon.
Worried I'd try to poach his kid, huh?
Would it kill him to just give me a heads-up?
...But instead of Foosha Village, the kid was sent straight to Navy HQ.
"So, what did you decide to name the child?"
"Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy!"
---
(For each review +1 additional chapter)
read +100 chapters on Patreon tambeerg