"Fleet Admiral, Vice Admiral Tsuru."
Renn Hawk gestured toward the mountain of gold gleaming before them. His voice was steady, calm as still water.
"This is nothing more than an appetizer."
Inside, his heart did not stir.
A hundred billion berries.
Enough to drive kings insane, to send countless pirates down reckless paths. But for the Navy, rulers of the seas, it was not enough. Not nearly enough.
Tossing that sum into the machinery of the Navy was like throwing a pebble into the ocean. It wouldn't even ripple. Even if he stripped Skypiea bare, turning every ounce of its gold into coin, it would only buy them time covering expenses for a year or two.
Temporary relief, nothing more.
Justice could not be born from someone else's purse.
If the Navy wanted true independence, if it wanted to carry out justice without being chained to the World Government's coffers, it needed more than treasure. It needed a living, breathing engine of wealth. A purse that never emptied.
Hawk's mind conjured the image of a man gaudy, grinning, with his trademark purple shades.
Gild Tesoro.
The so-called Golden Emperor.
In just twelve years, he had clawed his way up from slavery to become the wealthiest man alive. He ruled the world's grandest entertainment city, controlling nearly twenty percent of the world's currency.
If Tesoro could be persuaded forced, even to serve the Navy, their money troubles would end forever.
But not yet.
For now, the treasure of Skypiea would suffice. Once the Grand Line was purged and the Navy's dominance restored, Tesoro would be next.
The warehouse fell into silence.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku's expression shifted from shock, to disbelief, to something close to blank stupefaction. His head turned from Hawk to the mountain of gold, then back again.
Appetizer?
Hawk, you brat… did you just call a warehouse full of gold an appetizer?
If this was only the appetizer, then what in the world was the main course?
"Hawk…" Sengoku's voice rasped.
"If this mountain is just the appetizer… then what is the main dish?"
Tsuru's sharp eyes narrowed, her composure returning faster than the Fleet Admiral's. She took a breath, forcing her tone steady.
"That's the question we need answered."
She fixed her gaze on Hawk, not allowing herself to miss even the flicker of an expression on his face.
Hawk's reply was calm, but the weight of his words landed like cannon fire.
"A city of gold."
The words crashed into their ears like thunder.
"Ten thousand meters above the sea lies a legendary island Skypiea. And on that island exists a city cast entirely in gold. The lost city of Shandora."
He gestured to the warehouse before them.
"What you see here is merely what a single battleship could carry back. The true wealth of Shandora remains untouched, waiting to be claimed. Only when we send men to survey and transport it will we know its full measure."
Then he looked them both in the eye, his tone unwavering.
"But what I can tell you is this justice is now free."
Sengoku and Tsuru froze.
These were no ordinary officers. One was the Navy's supreme commander. The other, its great strategist. Between them, they had lived through decades of storms. They had faced pirates, warlords, revolutionaries, and kings.
Yet the words "city of gold" shattered their composure.
Sengoku turned once more toward the mountain of treasure. In his mind's eye, an image began to form.
A city.
An entire city forged from gold.
A city that could be melted down into rivers of wealth wealth enough to reshape the world.
His chest thudded.
He remembered every humiliating journey to Mariejois, hat in hand, to beg for funds.
He remembered standing tall as Fleet Admiral, the symbol of "justice supreme," while being forced to bow his head to the Five Elders, who tossed him scraps of funding like nobles feeding dogs.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku, the Navy's expenses are too high. You must learn restraint."
"The balance of the world is more important than another battleship."
"Do what you can with what you have."
Justice?
Justice was never free. In this twisted world, justice had always been bought with coin, with compromise, with the blood of men forced to do more with less.
But now
Renn Hawk had handed him a city of gold.
With this, the Navy could build fleets beyond imagining. Arm every soldier with the best weapons. Pay them well enough that loyalty would never falter.
With this, the Navy would no longer crawl to Mariejois.
Justice would be independent. Justice would be strong.
Justice would be free.
A sound broke from Sengoku's throat low at first, like a cough, then swelling into a laugh.
"Hahaha…"
The laughter grew louder, fuller, until it rolled like thunder against the golden walls.
"Bwahahahahahaha!"
He laughed until tears streaked down his cheeks, until his shoulders shook, until decades of pent-up humiliation and rage poured out of him in a single tidal wave of release.
The air shuddered.
A storm of willpower erupted from Sengoku's body, uncontrollable, absolute. The pressure of a king.
Conqueror's Haki.
The golden mountain itself seemed to hum, trembling as though bowing before that overwhelming spirit. All of G-3 trembled with it.
"Sengoku! Restrain yourself!"
A cold voice cut through the roar.
A hand, old but steady, pressed onto his shoulder.
Tsuru.
Her Devil Fruit power the Wash-Wash Fruit flared. Cool, cleansing force washed through Sengoku, scrubbing away the madness and fury like dirt rinsed from a white robe.
She knew better than anyone what this man had endured. How many times the "Buddha" had bent under the weight of coin and politics. How many times he had bowed where he should have stood tall.
But now was not the moment to lose himself.
First, the secret of the Golden City had to remain just that a secret. The treasure was not yet secured. One slip could ignite chaos.
Second, Hawk was watching.
What kind of example would it be if the Fleet Admiral of the Navy his supposed mentor and superior lost himself in gold like a madman?
Tsuru's voice was sharp, commanding. "Compose yourself."
The fire dimmed. Sengoku straightened, regaining the calm that had carried him for decades. He looked at Hawk again, but this time not with disbelief. With conviction.
This young man had given the Navy its dawn.
"Hawk…" His voice was steady, filled with rare certainty.
"You are the next Fleet Admiral."
"…What?" Hawk blinked, dumbfounded.
"Ridiculous!" Tsuru snapped, her voice cracking like a whip.
But neither could deny it the future of the Navy had shifted, and it stood in the form of Renn Hawk.
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