Red Line, World Government Headquarters.
Chamber of Deliberation.
Saint Saturn idly stroked his cane, a thin smile on his lips. "As long as he isn't intercepted in the Deep Sea, no one on Fish-Man Island can stop Phantom Tiger."
Saint Warcury nodded, just as pleased with himself. "His Devil Fruit is awakened. With his years of close-quarters combat, he could even hold his own against a Marine Admiral."
Saint Mars said flatly, "The Fish-Man race has always lacked top-tier fighters. Even if Fisher Tiger fully recovers, he won't measure up."
Blond Saint Peter sipped tea. "Fish-Man Island will become the Holy Land's primary supply source."
Saint Warcury drifted to the desk, the Den Den Mushi's glow cutting scales of light across his face. He sneered down at the world map, finger hovering over the mark of a fish.
"Once we seize Fish-Man Island, we'll enslave the entire Fish-Man race and establish a critical supply line. A deep-sea route, hidden from the sky—Darren's little Flying Fleet can't touch it."
Kong stared at them, shaken to his core.
Enslave the Fish-Man race?
Were they going to tear up the treaty and drop the last pretense of benevolence?
"Patience, Kong." Saint Warcury's knowing smile returned, his ancient eyes picking at every flicker of emotion on the Fleet Admiral's face. "This world is simple—the Celestial Dragons control everything. And as their leaders, we look down on it all."
"Fish-Man Island proves it. One command, and that treasure trove is ours."
He raised a mottled hand, palm up, then began to turn it over.
Purupuru…
The urgent ring of a Military Den Den Mushi cut his gesture in half.
The line connected. A panicked voice shook through. "R-reporting to the Gorosei, Excellencies! CP0 Senior Agent—Lord Phantom Tiger's Vivre Card…"
The man swallowed. Terror rasped the last words.
"…has burned away completely."
Saint Warcury's turning hand froze.
Kong, ever sharp-eyed, caught the tremor in those spotted fingers.
Time congealed. The room went grave-cold. Even their habitual smirks went still.
Kong glanced over the five.
Saint Warcury: "..."
Saint Mars: "..."
Saint Saturn: "..."
Saint Peter: "..."
Saint Nusjuro: "..."
None moved—yet all of them shied from Kong's gaze.
"Gorosei Excellencies?" The Den Den Mushi crackled again, the voice raw with urgency. "Fish-Man Island is still sealed. Our CP units failed to infiltrate. We have no clear intel on current conditions…"
"Lord Phantom Tiger has likely been killed in action. Please advise!"
Only silence answered.
"Gorosei—"
Kong stepped forward, lifted the receiver, and spoke. "This is Kong. The mission has failed. Suspend all operations immediately."
"Do not disturb Their Excellencies. They're in no mood to be interrupted."
He hung up, turned back, and saluted. "The situation is critical. The North Blue Fleet is looming over our Member States. Word of those ten nations being cowed will spread fast. If we let this run unchecked, it will spark panic and political upheaval worldwide."
"Still, with Your Excellencies' wisdom and the Government's resources, I'm sure you already have countermeasures. I won't presume to interfere."
He nodded once and started for the door.
"Kong."
Saint Saturn's rasp reached him on the threshold. "Relay our orders. The Marines are to cease all military actions against Rogers Darren and the North Blue Fleet—immediately."
A small, fleeting smile tugged at Kong's mouth. He turned, saluted, and said crisply, "Understood."
Stone faces stared back.
Veins jumped on Saturn's hands as his cane creaked. "Understand—this is not a concession."
"Of course, Your Excellency."
"Rogers Darren is still an insect. He can't truly threaten us."
"I agree completely, Your Excellency."
"We are merely upholding the Member State Agreement and protecting our nations."
"I understand perfectly, Your Excellency."
"When this is settled, you'll take up your post in the Government. Our expectations for you have always been high."
"I will do my utmost, Your Excellency."
"..."
"Then I'll take my leave."
Kong saluted again and walked out.
As he descended the Stairway to Heaven, his slightly stooped back straightened. The colossal statues no longer loomed. His step grew lighter, quicker.
Only after he had left Pangaea Castle entirely did he stop. The Fleet Admiral called "Steel Bone" stood with his head bowed, silent for a long breath. His shoulders began to shake.
He drew in a lungful of air, lifted his face to the sky—and laughed, full-throated and free.
---
New World, Pleasure District.
Darren opened his eyes on silk and saw Stussy seated across from him—black lace dress, cigarette poised between slim fingers, one leg crossed, black peep-toe heels catching the light. She leaned forward, studying the sharp lines of his face with a look that mixed curiosity, doubt, confusion—and something like wonder.
"My face isn't that fascinating," Darren said, grinning.
She paused, then asked, "How did you do it?"
Her lashes dipped, then lifted. "A moment ago, Government forces withdrew from the North Blue. Marine Headquarters has scaled back the pursuit."
"You've won, Darren."
Admiration brightened her gaze, a strange, starry light. "You made the Gorosei—the five elders who hold the highest authority in this world—yield for the first time in eight centuries."
To be continued...