"What?! One trillion Belly?!"
Even Whitebeard, a man who had plundered the Grand Line for decades and whose personal bounty was over 5 billion, was visibly stunned by the astronomical figure.
One trillion.
The number was so absurd it barely registered as real.
As the newly appointed leader of the New Warlords, his monthly salary was 1 billion Belly—a sum that was already mind-boggling.
But even at that insane rate, it would take him nearly 100 years of perfect attendance to pay off such a debt.
'Mike, you little brat…' Whitebeard thought, a grudging, almost impressed smile tugging at his iconic mustache.
'This is an open, blatant scheme!'
He wasn't just being offered a cure; he was being shackled.
Mike was trying to bind him and his entire crew to the New Marine, forcing them to work tirelessly to pay off this impossible debt.
It was a golden chain, but a chain nonetheless.
But…
If he was asked, truly asked, whether he wanted to live a few more years?
To see more of this vast, crazy ocean? To spend more time with his sons, his family?
The answer was, undeniably, yes.
"!!!"
Behind Whitebeard, Marco and the other commanders were utterly dumbfounded.
They hadn't even processed the number.
Their minds were laser-focused on one, single, impossible phrase: 'Mike could actually cure Pops?!'
The money didn't matter.
It was meaningless.
If it meant their father, their Oyaji, could live longer, could be healthy again… the Whitebeard Pirates wouldn't hesitate for a second.
Not for one trillion, not for ten trillion.
They would gladly risk their lives, sail into the very pits of hell, to earn it.
"So…" Whitebeard's voice was a low, calculating rumble.
He could already feel the burning, desperate gazes of his sons on his back.
He knew they were already 100% committed. "You want us to handle Rayleigh?"
Rayleigh's bounty was four-star.
4 billion Belly.
A drop in the ocean compared to the debt, but it was a clear sign of the New Marine's intentions.
"Right. The New Marine needs to purge the old era," Mike said calmly. "All legendary pirates from that time are targets. Those with severe, unpardonable crimes will be captured and executed."
He took a drag from his cigar. "Rayleigh's personal crimes are… controllable. However, considering Roger is the man who ushered in this chaotic Great Pirate Era, his 'Right Hand' bears an undeniable responsibility for the state of the world."
Mike's gaze was level, his voice firm.
"Depending on his attitude, if he cooperates, we can consider giving him a chance to retire in peace."
As he spoke, Mike glanced at his internal system interface.
[Happy Points Balance: 1,245,300]
Over a million of that had been the jackpot reward for successfully recruiting the three Admirals.
The rest was from… other activities.
He looked at the item in his mental inventory: [Senzu Bean].
[Senzu Bean]
[Fine Blue-grade Item, Current Star Rating: 3 Stars]
[Can replenish vitality, heal external and internal injuries. Ineffective against ordinary illness.]
[Happy Points required to upgrade to Purple-grade: 100,000]
He triggered the upgrade.
[Item Upgraded: Senzu Bean (Purple)]
[New Ability Unlocked: 'Restoration']
[Heals chronic injuries and long-term, deep-seated illnesses.]
[Reverts the user's physical condition to its state from ten years prior.]
100,000 points.
A bargain price.
He had a few old men on his roster who desperately needed this.
Zephyr, Sengoku, Garp… and, of course, the man sitting right in front of him.
Restoring all of them to their physical prime wouldn't just be a miracle; it would be a strategic masterstroke.
The New Marine's combat power would skyrocket to a level the world simply could not comprehend.
But these points couldn't be spent for free.
Zephyr and the others would get theirs as a "bonus" after completing their missions before the grand parade.
For Whitebeard? It was even simpler: 1 trillion Belly, no haggling.
Before the parade, every single one of these old, fading legends would be restored.
'Just imagine it…' Mike thought, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
'Kizaru, Akainu, Kuzan, and Issho at their peak… fighting alongside a prime-Whitebeard, a prime-Zephyr, a prime-Sengoku, and a prime-Garp. With the New Warlords to back them up…'
'World Government… tremble before your new masters.'
"Deal!"
Whitebeard stared at Mike, his voice a deep, resolute growl, though it carried a barely perceptible tremor.
A debt of one trillion Belly was staggering.
But to spend more time with his family? To see this new era he was helping to build?
It was worth it.
"Good," Mike nodded.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an exquisite, small rosewood box.
Click.
He opened the lid.
A refreshing, almost holy fragrance instantly filled the room, invigorating everyone present.
Marco and the others craned their necks, curious to see what kind of treasure could possibly be worth a trillion Belly.
Inside the box lay a single, vibrant green bean.
It was plump, glossy, and seemed to exude a faint, warm radiance.
Mike picked it up and handed the newly upgraded Purple-grade Senzu Bean to Whitebeard.
"Try it."
"..."
Whitebeard, the Strongest Man in the World, looked at the tiny bean in his massive, scarred palm.
His powerful Observation Haki flared, and he could feel it—this tiny, insignificant-looking thing contained an immense, boundless ocean of life energy.
It was enough to revive a withered forest, enough to cure any illness.
"Gurararara!"
Whitebeard let out a hearty, trusting laugh.
He no longer hesitated.
He tossed the Senzu Bean into his mouth.
It dissolved instantly.
It wasn't a flavor; it was a sensation.
A warm, impossibly comforting current surged through his entire body in an instant, spreading to every limb, every organ, every cell.
He felt as though he were soaking in the world's purest hot spring.
Every pore on his body relaxed in indescribable comfort.
The hidden, nagging injuries from decades of god-like battles—the wound from Roger, the scars from Garp—were being gently, miraculously smoothed away by an invisible hand.
The ailments that had plagued him for years, the sickness that had been slowly killing him, melted away like snow under a hot sun.
His breathing, once labored, became steady, deep, and powerful.
His heart, once weak, beat with the renewed, thunderous vigor of his prime.
He felt... young.
He felt the power he hadn't felt in ten long years surging back into his muscles.
"Haah—!"
Whitebeard exhaled deeply, a cloud of pure, revitalized air.
He slowly opened his eyes, and for a brief second, two flashes of brilliant, golden Conqueror's Haki flickered within them.
"Oyaji!" Marco was the first to rush forward, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate hope, his hands hovering over his father's shoulders.
"How… how do you feel?"
"Good," Whitebeard declared. He stood up, not as an old man, but as a giant.
His voice was no longer weary, but a booming, resonant force that made their eardrums vibrate.
"Better than ever!"
"GURARARARA!"
"Mike-san…" Marco's voice trembled, and he spun to look at Mike, his eyes instantly reddening.
"This… this is…!"
The usually composed, unflappable First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates was as flustered as a child, his throat tight with emotion.
He wanted to say thank you, he wanted to bow, he wanted to weep.
The words just wouldn't come.
It wasn't just him.
Jozu, Vista, Izo—all the commanders, these hardened, legendary pirates—had tears streaming openly down their faces.
They had watched, helplessly, as their invincible father had slowly succumbed to age and sickness.
They had scoured the seas for a cure, all to no avail.
They had resigned themselves to his inevitable, tragic departure.
And now, this young man, in an instant, had given them a miracle.
He had given them back their father.
"Mike-kun…" Whitebeard, now standing at his full, imposing height, his aura radiating a power that the room could barely contain, slowly extended his massive hand.
"Rayleigh…"
His voice was a deep, unbreakable promise.
"Leave him to me!"
"Ha—" Mike looked up at the revitalized legend and smiled.
He didn't speak.
He simply reached out and firmly clasped Whitebeard's enormous, world-breaking hand.
"Clap—"
The sound of their hands meeting rang out crisply, sealing the deal.
This sound was more than a handshake.
It was a signal.
The Whitebeard Pirates, in their entirety, had officially, and with all their hearts, joined the New Marine.
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Ok with this one trillion belly deal, the wb pirates will works for Mike for a lifetime without getting paid basically.