Year 1515 of the Sea Calendar.
Foosha Village, East Blue.
"What did you say?"
"You want to join the Marines?"
Garp stared at the young man before him as if he had just discovered an entirely new continent.
His own son had joined the Revolutionary Army.
His adopted grandson dreamed of becoming Pirate King.
His biological grandson wanted to seize that very title for himself.
And now, from a family cursed with rebellion and ambition, Monkey D. Dragon had chosen a path no one expected.
The Marines.
"Yes," Dragon said calmly. "I want to enlist."
"I want to become the sun that illuminates this world."
He stood straight and composed, tall and sharp-featured, his presence carrying a quiet pressure. His eyes burned with conviction, steady and unyielding.
He was only eighteen years old.
And he was a transmigrator.
Beyond the terrifying innate talent carried by the D. bloodline, he had awakened a unique ability two years earlier. It rewarded discipline and effort, granting limitless room for growth.
Unfortunately, it was not as absurd as Koby's rumored two-hundredfold effort. Even so, by the age of eighteen, Dragon had already mastered all three forms of Haki and reached the absolute peak of elite vice admiral-level combat strength.
On his eighteenth birthday, his original world granted him a second gift.
The Adult Authority and Loyalty System.
As long as he increased the loyalty of those who served under him, rewards would follow.
The past was already dead.
The future had just been born.
In a world plagued by pirates and rotting from corruption, a world that even his birthplace urged him to shake awake, hesitation had no meaning.
He would become the only sun of this pirate era.
A sun that the world could never repay.
"My god!"
"This kid says he wants to be a Marine!"
Garp burst into laughter, tears and snot streaming freely down his face.
Had someone in the Monkey family finally chosen to inherit his will?
Then a memory surfaced.
Dragon himself had once worn the Marine uniform.
He had seen the darkness beneath its justice. He had seen the rot. And he had walked away.
Garp's expression hardened.
"Dragon," he said seriously, "the Marines are not as righteous as you think. There are things inside that will disgust you. You need to be prepared."
"I know," Dragon replied, smiling easily. "I have never believed the world was black and white."
"If the Marines fail me, then I will become the sun and illuminate them from within."
In return, he wanted only one thing.
Absolute loyalty.
That was not too much to ask.
"Good! Good boy!"
Garp slapped Dragon hard on the shoulder, laughter returning to his face.
At eighteen, already possessing the strength of an elite vice admiral and a body like a monster. He was born to be an admiral.
Those words might not sound like something a Monkey should say, but that resolve earned Garp's approval.
With Dragon walking this path, the Marines finally had hope.
"Come on," Garp said. "We set sail for Marine Headquarters."
Without hesitation, he dragged Dragon toward the dog-headed warship.
A single delay could cost the boy his future.
As for the two brats dreaming of becoming Pirate King, he would deal with them later.
With Dragon anchoring the Marines, neither of them would ever reach the summit.
That was not arrogance.
In Garp's eyes, Dragon's potential surpassed even his own. Gol D. Roger was not this boy's ceiling. He could go even further than the Admirals.
…
Marine Headquarters.
Marineford.
A dog-headed warship screamed into the harbor. Before it even finished anchoring, Garp leapt onto the dock and dragged Dragon straight toward Fleet Command.
He intended to settle everything today.
Marines along the way glanced over. When they recognized Garp, they smiled and returned to work.
He was the Hero of the Marines, and his chaotic behavior was already routine.
Dragon followed calmly, observing everything.
Immaculate buildings. Crisp uniforms. Elite soldiers everywhere.
With an army like this behind him, his rise would not take long.
He steadied his resolve.
They stopped before a familiar office door.
From several meters away, Garp shouted, "Sengoku! Come see what treasure I brought you!"
Inside, Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Chief of Staff Tsuru paused their discussion.
Sengoku rubbed his long goatee and sighed.
Only Garp would behave like this in headquarters.
Treasure?
If it was not some soggy biscuit scraped off the floor, that alone would be a miracle.
The door slammed open.
Garp strode in, dragging Dragon with him, grinning proudly.
"Sengoku, my son. Monkey D. Dragon."
"He's joining the Marines. Treat him properly."
This was his successor. He demanded nothing less than the best.
"So this is Monkey D. Dragon," Sengoku said, eyes sharp.
Dragon stood tall, youthful features still present, but his confidence was undeniable.
More importantly, Sengoku had already read the reports.
Arlong's pirate crew in the East Blue had been wiped out. His strength was enough to survive on the Grand Line.
A prodigy with a sense of justice.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku," Dragon said, snapping a clean salute. "I have always admired your strategic mind. I hope to learn from you and one day become a pillar of the Marines."
Anyone else would have been reprimanded for such bold words.
But this was Dragon.
Garp's son.
A man with the potential to command.
Sengoku smiled. "Good. You have spirit and talent."
Praise from Dragon carried far more weight than empty flattery.
The boy admired him.
That meant Sengoku had truly surpassed Garp.
"All right," Garp said. "Get the paperwork. Do not lowball him."
"Captain, to start?" Sengoku asked, watching Dragon carefully.
It was not a low rank. Many never reached it.
Captain, two years at headquarters, then promotion. With enough merit, commander within three years. Admiral candidate by thirty-five. Admiral by forty-five.
The path was clear.
"Captain?" Garp snorted.
Before Sengoku could respond, his words froze.
Jet-black Armament Haki surged over Dragon's arm, dense and fluid, moving like a living thing.
The pressure filled the room.
Sengoku slammed his desk.
"Major. Headquarters Major, effective immediately."
At eighteen, Dragon had already mastered an advanced Armament technique.
It was as if decades of experience had been compressed into a single young man.
The Marines needed this kind of monster.
Even the Five Elders would not stop this promotion.