Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The office of the Fleet Admiral was usually a place of absolute order and strict discipline.
It was the brain of the entire Marine organization, where decisions affecting the whole world were made.
However, today, it was chaotic.
Fleet Admiral Kong sat behind his massive oak desk, rubbing his throbbing temples.
He held a cup of black coffee, trying to soothe his headache.
Across from him sat two of the most powerful men in the world: "The Hero" Garp and "The Buddha" Sengoku.
Crunch. Crunch.
The silence was broken by the loud, obnoxious sound of rice crackers being chewed.
Garp sat with his legs crossed, casually munching on a bag of crackers as if he were at a picnic, not a disciplinary hearing.
"Fleet Admiral Kong," Garp boomed, crumbs flying from his mouth. "I really think our warships are still too inadequate! The engineering department needs to do better."
Garp waved a cracker in the air. "This time, I almost caught Roger! I had him cornered! But he escaped again because my ship got damaged during the battle. It's the ship's fault, not mine!"
Clatter.
Kong's hand shook. He became so agitated that the hot coffee in his cup nearly spilled over his hand. His eyes glared at Garp as if he wanted to lean across the desk and devour him whole.
"You destroyed the ship yourself by throwing cannonballs too hard!" Kong wanted to scream, but he held it in.
Noticing the Fleet Admiral's murderous gaze, Garp belatedly realized he might have pushed too far. He lowered his voice.
"Here, hold this."
Garp shoved the bag of rice crackers into Sengoku's arms to free up his hands for a defensive posture.
"Damn you, Garp! You bastard!"
Sengoku, who had been quietly drinking a cup of hot water, was suddenly jostled by Garp's rude movement.
Splash!
Scalding hot water spilled out of the cup and dripped right onto Sengoku's trousers.
"Hot! Hot!" Sengoku jumped up, dusting off his pants.
"BOTH OF YOU, QUIET DOWN!"
Kong slammed his fist on the desk. The veins on his forehead throbbed continuously, looking like they might burst. It seemed like ever since Garp returned to Headquarters, he had been provoking Kong right under his nose every single day.
Kong took a deep breath, trying to lower his blood pressure.
"Garp," Kong said, his voice straining with patience. "How long have you been chasing Roger? In the last few months alone, you have destroyed four warships. Four! And yet, you still haven't captured him."
Kong pointed a finger at Garp. "I suggest you stop pursuing Roger for now. We cannot afford the repair bills."
Kong rubbed his temples again. To be frank, in the eyes of the World Government, the Roger Pirates weren't really the type of crew that posed a serious threat yet.
Roger was wild, yes, but he mostly explored and threw parties.
"The real problem," Kong said, his face darkening, "is the Golden Lion."
"Shiki?" Sengoku asked, wiping his wet pants.
"Yes. At least in terms of destabilizing the world and cruelty, the Golden Lion Pirates far surpass both the Roger Pirates and the Whitebeard Pirates."
Kong stood up and walked to the window. "Shiki is building a fleet. He wants to conquer. The Marine's most urgent matter now is dealing with that madman, not the less threatening Roger."
"Fleet Admiral Kong," Garp interrupted.
Garp completely changed his attitude. He put away his playful expression. He sat up straight, his face serious and sharp.
"Roger isn't an ordinary pirate," Garp said, his voice low and gravelly. "I see something subversive in him. Something dangerous."
Garp clenched his fist. "Please, give me one more chance. I will definitely capture Roger."
During his previous encounters, Garp had noticed Roger's uniqueness.
It wasn't just his strength. It was his King's Aura.
It was his ability to listen to the "Voice of All Things" and his innate pursuit of ultimate freedom.
Having teamed up with Roger at God Valley to defeat Rocks, Garp knew exactly what Roger was capable of.
Their relationship was complicated—they were enemies who tried to kill each other, yet they trusted each other more than some allies.
Kong looked at the determined Garp.
A conflicted expression flashed across the Fleet Admiral's face.
He respected Garp's intuition. But logic dictated otherwise.
"Denied," Kong said firmly. "Roger poses little threat to the civilians right now. We must focus our efforts on the Golden Lion. Even if Roger becomes a threat in the future, that is a problem for later. We do not have the manpower to fight everyone at once."
Kong looked at his two best soldiers and sighed.
"If you fools had trained qualified successors," Kong scolded them irritably, "giving us adequate mid-level forces, would we need to be so restrained now? I have to send you two everywhere because no one else can handle the New World!"
Kong began to list the current roster in his head.
Currently, the leading figures among the younger generation were Sakazuki and Borsalino. Both possessed the strength of elite Vice Admirals and were monsters in combat.
Next were Raleigh and Kuzan, who had solid Vice Admiral-level strength.
Further down were the students like Tokikake and Gion, who were growing fast and had reached Commodore-level strength.
"But it's not enough," Kong muttered.
Then, he remembered the biggest loss.
"Any news about that kid... Dragon?" Kong looked helplessly at Garp.
The room went silent.
Hearing Kong's words, Garp stiffened. He turned his head and gazed out the window, avoiding eye contact.
"Ah... the weather is really nice today," Garp said loudly. "Hey, Sengoku. Let's go fishing by the sea later. I bet the fish are biting this time."
Sengoku, understanding his old friend's pain, helped cover for him.
"Yes," Sengoku nodded vigorously. "The weather is indeed beautiful today. Perfect for fishing."
Understanding the implication behind his two subordinates' terrible acting, Kong stopped pressing.
Monkey D. Dragon. Garp's son. The Marine's former rising star.
Before Sakazuki and Borsalino rose to prominence, the designated candidate for the future Admiral position had always been Dragon.
He had top-tier physical prowess, a mysterious and powerful Devil Fruit ability, maximum combat intelligence, and incredible strategic planning skills.
"He was perfect," Kong thought sadly. "Everyone believed Dragon would become the greatest Fleet Admiral in history."
But several months ago, Dragon had visited Mary Geoise on a mission.
He saw something there—the darkness of the Celestial Dragons. Since then, his habits changed. He became quiet.
And not long after, he resigned from the Marines and disappeared into the wind.
"It's fine," Kong sighed, trying to comfort himself and Garp. "I know that boy. Dragon is not evil. He possesses a strong sense of Justice. He wouldn't join pirates or criminal gangs."
"Let's wait. In a few years, perhaps Dragon will figure things out and return to us on his own."
Garp crunched on another cracker, saying nothing.
Little did they know that while Dragon indeed hadn't joined pirates, he wasn't coming back.
He had created something far more dangerous to the World Government than any pirate crew.
He was building the Revolutionary Army!
...
Far away from the headaches of Marineford, in the hidden San Sebastian Mountains.
Inside the heavily fortified central castle of the Dawn Base, the atmosphere was calm and efficient.
Raleigh sat in a high-backed chair, reviewing the training reports of the new recruits. The room was simple but elegant, serving as his command center.
Beside him, Miles and the newly recruited Bessermer Reginald sat formally. They were acting as his aides today, brewing a pot of tea.
Knock, knock.
"Come in," Raleigh said.
The heavy wooden door pushed open.
A man in a standard Marine Captain's coat walked in, looking dusty but sharp.
It was Cleveland.
He had just arrived from the city. Hearing that Raleigh wanted to see him, he had quickly delegated his patrol work to his subordinates and rushed up the mountain.
"Raleigh-sama, you asked for me?" Cleveland asked, stepping into the room.
Hearing the voice, Raleigh put down the documents and smiled cheerfully.
"I've been waiting for you, Cleveland. Come, sit down. You look tired. Have some water first."
"Alright."
Cleveland didn't stand on ceremony.
He was thirsty from the journey. He accepted the tea cup that Miles poured for him and sat heavily on the sofa opposite Raleigh.
He took a sip, letting out a satisfied breath. Then, his eyes drifted to the stranger in the room.
"Who is this young man?" Cleveland asked curiously.
He looked at the lanky, long-limbed officer sitting next to Miles. He hadn't seen him in the briefing files.
Raleigh gestured to Reginald.
"This is Bessermer Reginald," Raleigh introduced. "He is an excellent young man I picked up during our recent voyage. He's proficient in a unique ethnic martial arts tradition—a 'War Dance' style. He is quite powerful."
Hearing Raleigh's high praise, Reginald flushed with pride. He immediately stood up and bowed respectfully to Cleveland.
"Cleveland-san!" Reginald said, his voice full of energy. "I have heard of your work in managing the Kingdom. I am honored to meet you. I still have much to learn from Raleigh-sama and yourself."
Cleveland looked the young man up and down. He sensed the strength in Reginald's limbs.
"Sit down," Cleveland nodded calmly. "We are all on the same side here."
Raleigh watched Cleveland with silent approval.
Cleveland had changed
He was no longer the simple, rough Marine Captain who only knew how to hunt pirates with brute force.
Over the past few months, managing the Kingdom of Eryoku had polished him.
Whenever Raleigh slacked off (which was often), it was Cleveland who had to deal with the national ministers, the merchants, and the annoying World Government officials.
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