Marineford—Marine Headquarters.

Inside the vast assembly hall, rows of chairs were filled with high-ranking officers of the Navy. Rear Admirals, Vice Admirals, and division leaders from all across the seas had gathered, creating a rare and tense atmosphere.

But noticeably, a few key figures were still absent.

Fleet Admiral Sengoku, Hero of the Navy—Monkey D. Garp, Chief of Staff Vice Admiral Tsuru, and the Three Admirals: Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru were nowhere to be seen.

Even the three Admiral Candidates—Tachibana Kyūjō, Gion, and Tokikake—had yet to arrive.

— — —

At the back of the room, sitting in a high-backed chair, Vice Admiral Yamakaji puffed out a thick cloud of smoke from his cigar. His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned toward his long-time comrade, Dalmatian, seated quietly beside him.

“Hey, Dalmatian… you seem way too calm for all this. Don’t tell me you know something already?”

Dalmatian, the Vice Admiral with a thick mustache and mohawk-style haircut, gave a faint shake of his head.

“I know something,” he said, voice steady. “But not enough to tell you.”

“The reason for this meeting will only be made public after the Fleet Admiral and the Admirals reach a final decision. Until then… we wait.”

— — —

Meanwhile, inside a private strategy room—protected from any form of eavesdropping—those very decision-makers were already deep in discussion.

Even Black Arm Zephyr, the former Admiral who had since semi-retired, was present today.

Sengoku slowly closed the file in his hand—its contents classified at the highest level—then swept his gaze over everyone in the room.

“This decision… came directly from the Gorosei,” he began, voice calm yet firm.

“I want your honest opinions before we bring this to the public.”

“We can’t afford division once this becomes official. Agreed?”

His eyes turned left, landing on the stone-faced Akainu, who sat with arms crossed, radiating cold authority.

Akainu gave a slow, silent shake of his head. No words—but agreement implied.

Sengoku turned to another challenge—Monkey D. Garp.

But Garp was busy munching on a donut, pretending not to notice.

Sengoku’s brow twitched.

“Garp. Your opinion?”

“Huh? Opinion?” Garp looked up innocently. “I got none.”

“You’d better not,” Sengoku snapped. “But I warn you—if you act on your own again, be ready to deal with the consequences.”

He turned away in frustration.

But just then, Garp’s eyes darkened slightly.

Not because of Sengoku.

Because of them—the World Government. The Celestial Dragons, who put their authority above justice, above billions of innocent lives.

They’d corrupted the Navy, warped its meaning, and tainted the very concept of Justice they claimed to uphold.

— — —

Seeing no further resistance, Sengoku turned back to the group.

“Sakazuki. Your stance?”

Akainu opened his eyes. His body heat rose immediately, and the air in the room tightened under invisible pressure.

“I refuse to carry out this order,” he said plainly, then closed his eyes once more.

The heat dissipated.

“And you, Kuzan?” Sengoku turned to Aokiji.

Aokiji clasped his fingers into a triangle beneath his chin, thoughtful.

After a few seconds, he looked up.

“I support the decision,” he said calmly.

“For three reasons. First—because the Gorosei have made themselves clear…”

— — —

The discussion continued.

Eventually, all eyes turned to the final member of the table—Tachibana Kyūjō.

“Vice Admiral Seiryu,” Sengoku asked, “what’s your opinion on this new Shichibukai system?”

Kyūjō paused for a moment. Then he answered with his usual calm voice.

“My opinion doesn’t really matter, does it?” he said. “The minority will always bow to the majority.”

“But if I must choose—then I reject the order.”

Inside, Kyūjō felt oddly satisfied.

Even though the Shichibukai system was approved, he could already see its flaws—the fractures in the foundation.

The more the Government pushed, the more the people would resist.

And as someone who couldn’t be controlled, Kyūjō could bide his time… until the system cracked from within.

Let them think they’ve won. The bigger their arrogance, the harder they’ll fall.

The Gorosei must’ve known the risks. But they pushed it anyway.

Because the Celestial Dragons—drunk on their own power—believed no one could defy them.

Because of their hidden trump card—

Imu-sama.

— — —

In the original timeline, the Shichibukai—also known as the Seven Warlords of the Sea—were a political creation by the World Government to balance the rise of pirate power in the Great Pirate Era.

Seven powerful pirates, granted legal authority to pillage and kill as they pleased, so long as they paid tribute and answered the Government’s summons when required.

In exchange, their bounties were frozen, their crimes erased, and even personal favors were granted.

Like the isolation granted to Amazon Lily, or the pardon for entire pirate crews.

But the price was steep. In time, this system would rot the Navy from the inside—turning justice into a joke.

And now, with Kyūjō’s interference…

The Shichibukai system had been restructured, rebranded, and made worse.

Not only were the Warlords granted full immunity and status…

They were now given official titles within the Navy.

Their rank? Equal to that of an Admiral—at least in bureaucracy, if not in actual command.

Even worse—they could now requisition nearby Marine fleets at will, if it “assisted their missions.”

In other words—Marines had to salute pirates.

No wonder so many high-ranking officers were furious.

The Government wasn’t trying to strengthen the Navy. They were trying to contain it.

They feared letting the Navy grow too powerful, so instead, they empowered seven uncontrollable pirates who would remain loyal to them.

It was disgusting.

But in the end… the order stood.

Sengoku, Kizaru, Aokiji, and Tsuru all reluctantly signed off on it.

— — —

“Then it’s settled,” Sengoku said, rising from his seat.

“Make the announcement.”

He left the room, his face grim.

No one followed.

Even those who had agreed seemed bitter.

— — —

That very evening, Morgans—the King of World News—ran the story across the front page of the World Economy Newspaper.

“World Government Unveils New Shichibukai System!”

“Anyone strong enough can now join the elite seven!”

The world erupted in chaos.

In just a few hours, powerful monsters—pirates, mercenaries, and warlords—began crawling out from the shadows, hungry for a seat at the table.

But Tachibana Kyūjō paid them no mind.

His focus was elsewhere.

— — —

G-11 Base, New World.

Kyūjō stood at the edge of a training platform, arms crossed, observing a fierce sparring match.

Two young men were locked in combat—one tall and wild-haired with a thunderous aura, the other smaller but razor-focused.

Enel versus Trafalgar Law.

Shockingly, even with the Ope Ope no Mi, Law was clearly losing.

The reason?

Enel had also eaten a Devil Fruit.

The Den Den no Mi, a Paramecia-type that allowed him to generate biological electricity.

Though weaker in raw voltage than Enel’s old Goro Goro no Mi, with Kyūjō’s training, he had turned it into something terrifying.

He now used bio-electricity to stimulate muscles, enhance speed, and awaken latent potential.

His body moved like lightning, guided by instinct.

With mastery over Busōshoku Haki and Kenbunshoku Haki, Enel’s sensory abilities—combined with electrical perception—had reached a near precognitive level.

Once a long-range magic-user, Enel had evolved into a melee berserker—a bio-electric warrior with no clear weaknesses… except seawater and Seastone.

Law gasped for breath, sprawled across the ground once again.

Kyūjō shook his head with a sigh.

But just then, Enel’s eyes lit up.

Kyūjō gave a faint smile.

“Enel. Come here. I have a mission for you.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep