The Marine Headquarters possessed an elite training camp, and the World Government naturally maintained its own organization for cultivating agents.
Among the many uninhabited islands scattered throughout the Grand Line's treacherous waters, at least several served as proving grounds for these shadowy operatives, remote facilities where ordinary maps showed nothing but empty ocean.
The Marine existed to maintain peace and stability across the world's seas, but what these agents accomplished was something entirely different.
Smuggling, assassination, espionage, intelligence gathering, they excelled at every form of clandestine warfare. They bore no responsibility for protecting any power structure, and would even orchestrate the destruction of nations that fell into chaos. Even member countries enjoyed no immunity from their ruthless calculations.
Their only consideration was the interests of the Celestial Dragons.
Unlike the Marine, which, despite being a government agency, retained some measure of institutional independence, these operatives served with absolute loyalty. There could be no "freedom" in their ranks.
The departments of the World Government operated according to completely different models and atmospheres than the Marine's more traditional structure.
Rob Lucci of CP9 had emerged from exactly such a training system within the World Government's secret organizations. The government had proclaimed him a rare genius appearing once in centuries, the strongest killing weapon of all generations. Such praise revealed that this "training organization" had existed for quite some time indeed.
"Sith! What are you still standing there for?"
"Move!"
The agent who had been pinned down by Dom's overwhelming presence, despite being driven to his knees, maintained his rigid posture and continued fighting with every ounce of strength he possessed. His bloodshot eyes fixed on the dumbfounded marine colonel as he shouted with desperate urgency.
"Oh?"
Oboro's expression carried genuine amusement as he observed the scene unfolding before him.
He has some skill, Oboro noted with analytical interest. Under the pressure of my atmospheric manipulation, he can still recover some movement and retain the strength to speak.
Sith swallowed hard, his panicked movements unconsciously knocking over his chair as he slowly retreated. Terror consumed his weathered features as he stared at the man sitting casually across from him.
As a marine colonel operating in the North Blue, Sith had achieved his elevated position through transfer from Marine Headquarters, a credential that marked him as genuine "talent" who had emerged from Marineford's elite institutions. Throughout the Four Blues, anyone bearing such distinguished background could expect a promising career trajectory, provided they avoided serious misconduct.
That pattern had indeed proven accurate. After establishing his reputation throughout the North Blue's chaotic waters, his rank had risen with remarkable speed.
Because of his experience at Marineford, he possessed limited understanding of certain classified matters that ordinary branch officers would never encounter.
The fact that the World Government had dispatched agents all the way to the North Blue for intelligence gathering meant that the captain of the Hell Pirates was far more than simply a "rising star" among regional criminals.
Sith understood exactly what being involved with World Government agents implied.
The only conclusion his analytical mind could reach was that the man sitting before him represented a threat capable of endangering the World Government itself.
Oboro studied the colonel's terrified expression with predatory satisfaction. "The appearance of these running dogs of the World Government means your activities have been exposed. It means new personnel will soon replace you, rendering you useless to me."
He rose from his seat with fluid grace, sliding his hands casually into his trouser pockets.
"The meal was excellent," he observed with genuine appreciation, glancing back at the elegant dining setup before preparing to depart.
Meanwhile, Dolan had tactfully produced a Den Den Mushi, the call connecting immediately though the recipient remained silent.
Dolan knew exactly who waited on the other end, Yurivich.
"The captain says they're all your prey," Dolan announced with predatory satisfaction. "Enjoy them."
The transponder snail's eyes closed as the connection terminated.
"Someone!" Sith's voice cracked with panic and exhaustion as desperate screams erupted from his throat. "Capture these pirates! Quickly!"
In response to his desperate commands, marine soldiers began converging on their position from every direction, their footsteps thundering across the ruined landscape as hundreds of white-uniformed figures rushed toward the confrontation.
Oboro raised one hand to adjust his gentleman's hat, the brim casting shadows across his scarred features.
His pupils contracted slightly beneath the hat's edge as black Haki suddenly erupted from his body, spreading like an inexorable tide that swept across heaven and earth with overwhelming force.
In that instant, countless figures collapsed like wheat before a scythe, their consciousness snuffed out by the tremendous spiritual pressure.
The air itself seemed to crackle with energy as winds howled across the devastated terrain, while faint flashes of black lightning danced through the atmosphere like harbingers of divine wrath.
Holy Land Marijoa, the headquarters of the World Government.
Captain-in-Chief Steel Bone Kong sat behind his imposing desk with the weight of advanced age pressing upon his shoulders, quietly studying the Den Den Mushi positioned before him like a judge contemplating evidence.
On the wall behind him hung a single piece of calligraphy bearing the word "Justice", a relic from his days serving as Fleet Admiral of the Marine, brought here despite its philosophical disconnect from his current duties.
Although Kong had entered his twilight years, his bearing remained strong, dignified, and steady. His spirit showed no signs of degeneration despite the passage of decades. Even a casual glance at his exposed, muscular arms revealed flesh and blood far more powerful than the rising "younger generation" currently making names for themselves across the world's oceans.
The Marine, Cipher Pol, the Shichibukai, Marine Science Force, Marine Titan Force, Sword Secret Special Forces, Special Science Class, Judicial Island, Impel Down, Crime Investigation Bureau, this complex network of organizations formed the massive foundation upon which the World Government's power rested. Yet since Kong had assumed his current position, no situation quite like this had ever emerged.
For the first time in recorded history, a Celestial Dragon had been "openly" assassinated. The perpetrator was originally a slave, now a pirate whose very existence challenged the foundations of their world order.
During Kong's tenure as Fleet Admiral, Gol D. Roger had been merely a "little devil" in his experienced eyes. The Rocks Pirates, the Four Emperors, countless storms and upheavals had passed before his analytical gaze without fundamentally threatening the system itself.
In the Battle of God Valley, an event unknown to the outside world, he had served as the Marine's supreme commander. It could be said that he had witnessed the birth of the Great Pirate Era with his own eyes.
After living for so many decades, the only previous incident that matched the current crisis in terms of sheer severity had been Fisher Tiger's rampage through Marijoa, liberating thousands of slaves from bondage. But in terms of broader influence, Fisher's actions had undoubtedly carried greater implications for the future.
However, considering public opinion and the perspective of the Celestial Dragons themselves, the God Slayer's actions represented something far worse.
Because they had shaken the very foundation of "divine authority."
The Fisher incident, regardless of its dramatic consequences, had merely infuriated the Celestial Dragons and stripped away their carefully maintained facade. But the World Nobles themselves had never faced direct physical threat.
Their dignity had been wounded, nothing more.
Contemplating these grim parallels, Kong's weathered features creased with concern.
He harbored a growing premonition that, judging from recent developments across the seas, the true era of piracy might finally be approaching. The World Government needed to maintain maximum vigilance and pursue every possible method of curtailing this dangerous trend.
The timing of the God Slayer's emergence seemed too calculated to be coincidental, it felt like some kind of ominous portent.
Puru puru puru.
The distinctive sound of an incoming call shattered his contemplation as the Den Den Mushi activated.
Kong lifted the receiver immediately.
"Report," he commanded with authority that brooked no delay.
"No contact from our operatives... The agents have gone silent, but we've received communication from a marine soldier requesting immediate support."
"Requesting support?" Kong and his subordinate fell into troubled silence as the implications crystallized.
"It appears his identity has been compromised... but something doesn't align properly."
"Under normal circumstances, we deliberately provided him with Sith as bait. Based on our psychological analysis and behavioral observation of the target, he would inevitably contact Sith and choose cooperation, allowing our personnel to infiltrate his inner circle. If the Hell Pirates decided to enter the Grand Line, this represented our optimal opportunity and the wisest tactical approach."
"This individual is more intelligent... and more dangerous than our projections suggested."
Kong's voice carried the cold assessment of someone who had spent decades evaluating threats to world stability.
He recalled that Vice Admiral Tsuru had approached him for private consultation, advising that they should attempt to prevent World Government agents from taking premature action to avoid alerting the God Slayer to their surveillance. Their real focus should center on the moment when the Hell Pirates announced their entry into the Grand Line, everything else would prove futile.
The unique situation and environment of the North Blue doomed the Hell Pirates to limited expansion, preventing them from achieving true regional dominance. The existence of the Donquixote Family and Germa alone created a system of checks and balances. Even if Doflamingo and the God Slayer had established "certain arrangements," such cooperation would operate within carefully defined boundaries.
Additionally, although Tsuru hadn't extracted useful intelligence from Joker during their interrogation, she had detected signs that Dover was orchestrating some form of "conspiracy."
This observation had also influenced Kong's strategic thinking.
However, under pressure and demands from the Celestial Dragons, World Government agents had proceeded with their mission regardless.
The current results confirmed that Tsuru's analysis had been entirely correct.
"The Marine has dispatched personnel to Flevance," his subordinate continued with grim finality.
"Those agents are essentially dead."
"Understood."
After exchanging additional tactical details, Kong replaced the receiver with deliberate precision.
Following several minutes of contemplation, he retrieved a different Den Den Mushi and manually dialed a signal to those who commanded even his elevated position.
"We are already aware."
The transponder snail's eyes opened within seconds, its features transforming to mirror the caller as an indifferent voice responded without waiting for Kong's introduction.
"The God Slayer has undoubtedly been alerted to our activities. I fear our subsequent operations will prove significantly more challenging to implement. My recommendation is terminating current initiatives and waiting for them to enter the Grand Line voluntarily," Kong stated with military directness.
"Do not concern yourself with such matters. We will assume control of all follow-up operations."
The response carried dismissive authority that brooked no discussion. The caller seemed to have no intention of engaging in substantive communication, simply delivering notification before severing the connection.
Kong's expression darkened with controlled fury.
Although he served as Captain-in-Chief of all World Government forces, his authority meant nothing when compared to the true supreme leaders of the Holy Land Marijoa and the World Government itself.
The Five Elders.