Tachibana Kyūjō had always suspected it.

The so-called Warrior God of Finance—one of the Five Elders—wasn’t just some political figure. He was a master swordsman, someone with an unfathomable understanding of the blade. And yet, not once in the manga had there been a single record of him drawing his sword in battle.

— — —

Mariejois, the Holy Land of the Celestial Dragons

Within a grand chamber lined with red carpet and dim golden light, the Five Elders had gathered. They had just finished receiving a call via Den Den Mushi from Fleet Admiral Sengoku. The one who took the call was Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro.

The Navy’s message was simple enough.

And yet—

The Five Elders, in complete agreement, rejected the request for reinforcements. Their voices were cold and absolute:

“The Marine base in the New World must hold its ground. But the World Government will not send additional support. The Navy must handle this matter on its own.”

After all, the construction of a Marine branch in the New World had been Sengoku’s unilateral decision. None of them had ever approved such a reckless plan. And now, with the consequences threatening to collapse the entire front, responsibility fell squarely on his shoulders.

Worse still, the base had already consumed enormous resources. To abandon it now would mean wasting everything. The Navy had no choice but to endure—to repel the Yonko alliance with their own strength.

And if they failed…

The first to take the blame would be Sengoku himself. The Elders would have every reason to strip him of his rank. Whether he could even finish his tenure as Fleet Admiral was doubtful.

The truth was, this “crisis” was no crisis at all for the World Government or the Celestial Dragons. If anything, it was a blessing. A clash between the Navy’s headquarters and the Yonko would bleed both sides dry. And the weaker those great powers became, the stronger the World Nobles’ grip on the world would grow.

— — —

The Balance of Power

Decades had passed since Roger’s final words ignited the age of piracy, unleashing countless pirates upon the seas. Yet even the Elders had been surprised by how long this generation of Marines had endured.

At first, they considered bolstering the Navy directly. But that would have drawn too much attention. So, the Seven Warlords of the Sea system was born. A convenient compromise.

But then, an anomaly appeared—a monster whose power rivaled, and perhaps even exceeded, that of the three Admirals.

And the veterans of the previous generation—Garp, Sengoku, and Zephyr—hadn’t retired yet. Each of them was Admiral-level in their own right. Together with the three current Admirals, and that one man whose strength eclipsed them all…

Vice Admiral “Seiryu” Tachibana Kyūjō.

If all seven of these forces were counted, the Navy could arguably be called the strongest organization in the world. Not even a single Yonko crew could face them. And if all four Yonko united…? Even then, the Elders weren’t certain.

Seven individuals with Admiral-class power.

That was unprecedented.

What had blessed this era with such abnormal strength? Was it luck—an accident of fate? Or perhaps this wasn’t truly the Golden Age of Pirates… but the Golden Age of the Navy?

The thought left the Five Elders unsettled.

In the past, there had only been four Admiral-class Marines, if one counted the former Fleet Admiral, Kong. Beyond that, only Garp, Sengoku, and Zephyr. Garp had refused the Admiral’s title, leaving no one else qualified. Admirals were never chosen lightly—they were the counterbalance to the Yonko.

And yet now, this era had seven such individuals.

Had Zephyr not retired, had Sengoku not been anchored to headquarters, and had Borsalino not been reassigned, then even a united Yonko front would stand little chance.

The Navy of this generation… was too strong.

Strong enough, perhaps, to even threaten the World Government itself. Something utterly unacceptable. Something unseen in eight hundred years of history.

— — —

The Monster in Their Midst

The current Admirals—Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru—were all terrifyingly powerful Logia users, each with mastery unmatched by their predecessors. But even that wasn’t enough.

There was also Garp. Sengoku. Zephyr.

And above them all—a man hailed as the strongest swordsman alive.

He had never eaten a Devil Fruit. Yet he was believed to have mastered all three forms of Haki to their very peak. And, most astonishing of all, he was still young. His potential had no ceiling.

Vice Admiral Tachibana Kyūjō.

The World Government couldn’t measure him.

At first, they dismissed the rumors. The intelligence had come from Saint Figarland Garling, commander of the God Knights and right hand of Imu himself. Too absurd to believe.

But when they reviewed Kyūjō’s record, the truth became impossible to ignore.

He had first gained renown for defeating Golden Lion Shiki. True, Shiki had grown old and weakened, but bringing down a pirate of his stature still required Admiral-level might. Sengoku’s misleading report—claiming Shiki was sickly—only obscured Kyūjō’s true power.

Then came the ten-day clash with Big Mom. Officially, Kyūjō had “lost.” Yet he bore no serious wounds, only exhaustion. Meanwhile, Big Mom vanished for days. When she resurfaced, her body had withered, and it took months for her to recover. Who had really won that fight? And why hadn’t Big Mom retaliated? Could it be… even she was afraid?

Later, Kyūjō defeated Dracule Mihawk and claimed the title of the world’s strongest swordsman. Mihawk himself had already proven Admiral-class, yet Kyūjō crushed him so decisively that Mihawk never sought a rematch. Perhaps because he knew… he couldn’t win.

Finally, there was the duel with Red-Haired Shanks. Because of Shanks’s special status, Saint Garling himself had witnessed the battle. With his own eyes, he saw Kyūjō overwhelm the man destined to become a Yonko—one hailed by Whitebeard as the greatest of the next generation.

If Shanks was the hope of the future… then what did that make Tachibana Kyūjō?

He was young. Far from his peak. And already this strong.

To the World Government, he wasn’t just an asset hidden within the Navy—he was a threat greater than any pirate.

And yet, they could not move against him carelessly. Not unless they acted directly. Would the Marines obey if ordered to strike him down? Or would they side with him instead?

After all, he was the acknowledged nephew of Fleet Admiral Sengoku. That bond was no trivial matter.

To erase Kyūjō… they would first need to topple Sengoku. And this looming war was the perfect excuse. If the Marines lost, they could sweep both away in disgrace. If the Marines won, the damage would still cripple them—allowing the God Knights to move in and seize Kyūjō, just as they had during the God Valley Incident.

Once that was done, they could replace Sengoku, retire Garp, and restructure the Navy into something weaker, more manageable. Restore the old balance: Pirates versus Navy, with the World Government above all.

That was the Elders’ true plan.

— — —

Marineford

In his office at Marineford, Sengoku stared blankly at the ceiling. His sigh carried the weight of decades. He had expected the Gorōsei to refuse his plea. Still, he had made the call—both for protocol, and to test their resolve. Their unanimous rejection had been harsher than he’d feared.

“Has their faith in us really vanished entirely…?” he murmured.

He remembered Kyūjō’s words from a few days prior, half-joking, half-serious:

“I could probably fight three Admirals at once.”

At the time, Sengoku had laughed it off. Too absurd. Too reckless. But the young man’s growth had been so rapid, so staggering… Was it really a joke? Even if Kyūjō could only handle two Admirals, that alone would be enough.

A spark returned to Sengoku’s eyes. If Kyūjō hadn’t been exaggerating, then the Navy still had a chance. A chance to win.

But the Elders would not sit idly by forever. Sengoku knew this. They would intervene, sooner or later. Overthrowing the World Government? Creating a new regime? Sengoku had no such ambitions. A new ruler would not necessarily be a better one. The Marines were soldiers, not politicians. They carried justice, not governance.

Yet he knew one truth:

For true justice to exist, the Navy had to free itself from the World Government. They had to stand as an impartial third power, fighting only against evil and piracy.

To achieve that… they needed power.

Power strong enough to reset the world if necessary.

The coming war would decide everything. Victory would open the path to their future. Defeat would bury it.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” Sengoku thought grimly.

He had never chosen this path expecting to retreat.

And right now, only two and a half people knew of his true plan: his trusted comrade Tsuru, his old friend Zephyr… and the “half person”—Tachibana Kyūjō, who had pieced together fragments of the truth.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep