"Halt all operations against the North Blue?!"
Figarland Garling went still, eyes narrowing a fraction as the words crackled from the Den Den Mushi. Disbelief surged, hot and corrosive.
What are those five old fossils playing at?
The Government's armada had already slipped into the North Blue in staggered waves. No "Flying Fleet" could intercept them all at once. He was poised to crush Rogers Darren's foundation… and at the final instant, the Holy Land ordered a stand-down?
"Why?"
He drew a long breath, burying the flare of rage beneath ice. When he spoke, his tone was razor-calm.
"Even if you insist on halting the operation, I require a proper explanation. You may hold the highest authority in the World Government, but as Vice-Commander of the God's Knights, I am empowered to oversee all Celestial Dragons."
Silence answered. A long, suffocating silence.
The Den Den Mushi's mouth finally worked, relaying intel that made his pupils snap tight. Color bled from his face; it went ashen, then a sickly blue.
One beat.
Two.
Three.
"So… you yield? Just like that?!"
His composure shattered. "What happened to the Celestial Dragons' pride? To eight centuries of the Government's authority?" he snarled into the shell, voice rising to a howl. "That brat Darren wouldn't dare truly act—he's bluffing! Give me three hours—no, two—and I'll erase the order he built in the North Blue. We'll be the ones laughing!"
The Gorosei's reply was frigid, flat, final.
"No. We do not have two hours.
"If that brat moves, we won't have ten minutes.
"We understand it may only be intimidation, but the Government will not toy with such risks.
"Figarland Garling… you will have countless chances to eliminate Rogers Darren later. There is no need to rush. Consider this matter settled.
"Thank you for your service. We are grateful for your continued support—"
Smash.
Garling crushed the Den Den Mushi in his fist. His breathing came harsh and hot; fury burned bright in his eyes.
"Damn it."
I was about to unleash hell on the North Blue, and those old men surrendered first?
A jagged laugh broke from him, shoulders shaking. "How amusing. Truly amusing."
"Rogers Darren… you've outdone yourself."
He cut a venomous glance toward the thousands of civilians shivering in the sleet, fingers flexing once on his rapier's hilt, then turned on his heel and strode into the cabin.
"Signal the fleet: cease all operations and await further orders."
---
Twenty minutes earlier.
Red Line—Holy Land Mary Geoise, Pangaea Castle.
Chamber of Deliberation.
"Reporting, Excellencies of the Gorosei: all forty-five Government warships have entered the North Blue and are advancing toward their targets in stealth, dispersed across the theater!"
Steel Bone Kong stood rigid, as if drenched in ice water. Even now he struggled to accept that the World Government would stoop to something so vile—and so effective.
"Do you hear that, Kong?" Saint Saturn stroked the worn head of his cane, a thin smile carving his face. "No one defies our decisions. Rogers Darren has cornered himself. Once we sever his support, his fleet cannot stand without funds."
Around him, the others—some seated, some idly standing—wore the same pleased, superior calm. The plan was simple. Brutal. Sound.
However strong an organization might be, it collapses without an economy to feed it. Pirates could plunder, yes, but plunder was a volatile artery. It might keep a rabble alive; it could not support a disciplined armada. That was why the New World's great pirate powers fought for nations and islands—to secure mines, farms, shipyards, taxes. Territory underwrote expansion.
By striking the North Blue's ledger, the Gorosei would starve Darren's fleet without firing a shot.
"Now you see our wisdom," Saint Warcury said, lifting his teacup. "The World Government has ruled these seas for eight centuries. We have reigned from these heights for ages beyond counting. Turbulence is but passing cloud.
"Kong, we acknowledge the boy's ability. He has earned a sliver of our attention. But a worm is still a worm. We need not deign to act. A word from on high is enough to crumble what he has built.
"That is the Government's eight-hundred-year foundation."
Kong's jaw tightened.
Purupuru… purupuru…
A Den Den Mushi rang on a side table.
"That will be one of the squadrons on station," Saint Warcury said lightly, a glance flicking toward Kong. "Requesting permission to begin."
He had noticed—of course he had—how Kong's deference had thinned since Felsek and the bombardment of Mary Geoise. That would not do. Not for the Government's next Commander-in-Chief. A clean, crushing victory would remind him where power truly sat.
Warcury opened the line. "Speak."
A panicked voice bled through the shell. "R-reporting, Your Excellencies! The North Blue Fleet has been sighted!"
"Oh?" The Gorosei traded wry looks.
"So they've finally moved. Attempting to intercept our ships at entry? Futile. That brat's capability extends no fur—"
"No…" The officer swallowed. Terror thickened his voice.
"The North Blue Fleet… is currently looming over our Government Member States."
The chamber froze.
Saint Warcury's smile vanished.
To be continued...