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Grand Line — G-8 Fortress, Training Room.
Inside the steel-paneled training room, everything was silent.
A few training machines were scattered about, but the only sound came from a young man relentlessly slamming his flesh and blood into a massive steel boulder—fists, elbows, knees, even his back—nothing was held back.
This young man was none other than Kanos Atlas.
The enormous steel block was covered in cracks and fist marks, with dried blood stains serving as evidence of Atlas's brutal training.
Now standing at a height of 2.8 meters, Atlas no longer bore the youthful look he once had.
At 19 years old, his features were chiseled, every line of his face sharp and defined like it had been carved from stone.
The harsh life at sea had tanned his skin into a bronzed tone, and his sharp eyes and slightly raised eyebrows gave him a stern, commanding presence.
He wore no standard Marine cap; instead, he opted for clean, cropped hair that gave him an energetic and driven appearance.
His build was just as impressive—muscular without being bulky, exuding a refined strength.
His powerful deltoids looked like armor, and his broad back tapered into a narrow waist, forming a perfect inverted triangle when viewed from behind.
His low body fat made it possible to see the defined fibers of each muscle, every inch of his physique radiating explosive power.
Boom!
Suddenly, the steel, finally unable to withstand the abuse, split apart right where it stood.
Atlas paused, as though he had just grasped something, but it slipped from his reach.
With his strength, Atlas could easily smash the block by flinging it, but what he aimed for was something far more difficult: breaking it in place.
He believed this would give his punches greater penetrative force—but for now, he hadn't quite succeeded.
"Captain Atlas! Vice Admiral Jonathan wants to see you!"
A Marine soldier stepped into the training room, passing along the summons.
His eyes widened in awe at the shattered steel strewn across the floor—Atlas was now the living legend of G-8 Fortress.
In just three months, he had taken down the Ekrem Pirates who had returned from the New World, engaged in a fierce battle with the Warlord Crocodile, captured him, and since then had personally guarded the stretch of the Grand Line that passed G-8.
No rookie pirate could pass through unscathed—it had become known as the Death Route.
"Got it. I'll head over shortly," Atlas nodded, well aware of the reverence in the Marine's eyes—but he had long grown used to it.
These past three months, his life had been a cycle of relentless training and nonstop missions.
Whether it was infamous veteran pirates or rookie captains with bounties over 100 million, they had all fallen before him.
To many pirates, Kanos Atlas was now known by a fearsome title—the Devil Captain.
Vice Admiral Jonathan's Office.
Atlas walked straight through the door without knocking.
After months of constant task assignments, the two had grown so familiar that formalities like knocking had become unnecessary.
Jonathan, ever the easygoing type, didn't mind at all.
"Vice Admiral Jonathan, you needed me? Is there a new mission already?"
Upon entering, Atlas saw Jonathan once again tinkering with his fishing rods and couldn't help but sigh.
"Atlas, good to see you. Your trial period is officially over. In a couple of days, a ship from Marine Headquarters will arrive at G-8. You'll be returning to HQ with them."
"Headquarters is sending a ship for me?" Atlas looked confused. He didn't think he'd earned that kind of special treatment… Had Sengoku finally grown a conscience?
"Hahaha, don't get the wrong idea—it's not for you," Jonathan chuckled, seeing through Atlas's bewildered expression.
"They're here for Crocodile. Headquarters has decided to transfer him to Impel Down, but until now, they didn't have the personnel to make the handover. A rear admiral is currently stationed at HQ, so he's been dispatched to pick up Crocodile."
Atlas sighed. So he was tagging along. Still, he was surprised to hear that Crocodile was still being held at G-8.
He had been too busy chasing pirates to pay attention to the Warlord's situation. But he understood.
You couldn't send just anyone to escort someone like Crocodile—his strength demanded proper security.
"I'm curious—who's the rear admiral being sent?" Atlas asked directly. He wasn't the type to hide his curiosity.
"Oh, that…" Jonathan grinned. "Let me keep that as a surprise. Hahaha!"
That was the one thing that always annoyed Atlas about Jonathan—his love for suspense and vague answers.
"Whatever. I'll find out in a few days anyway," Atlas muttered with a smirk. A free ride back to HQ? He wasn't complaining.
"Anything else? If not, I'll be on my way."
"Wait—don't go just yet!" Jonathan called after him. "I have a friend who asked me to check: do you have any preference for which base you want to be assigned to after graduation?"
"I haven't thought about it," Atlas replied honestly. "I'll go wherever Fleet Admiral Sengoku decides."
He wasn't being evasive. Atlas truly hadn't given it much thought. Of course, if he had a choice, he'd prefer to be stationed in the New World—"Paradise" was too weak for him now.
With the power of the Horse, Ox, and Rabbit Talismans, his body was growing rapidly.
But rather than rush to awaken more, he wanted to master the ones he already had fully.
Especially the Rabbit Talisman—he could feel he was on the verge of complete assimilation.
Three Days Later — G-8 Fortress Port.
A massive Marine warship docked at the port. Sailors were busy maintaining the ship, while a man in a Justice coat stood at the front, grinning at the approaching Atlas.
Beside Atlas stood Crocodile, shackled and scowling, yet looking almost completely healed from their brutal battle. Atlas found it hard to believe he had ever beaten this guy half to death.
"Yo! Young Atlas!" The man called out with a cheerful wave. "I'm Tokikake, Rear Admiral of Marine Headquarters!"
Atlas regarded him with a blank expression.
This man—Tokikake—had slitted eyes that were nearly closed, a wide hexagonal face, protruding ears, and a lopsided smile with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Instead of the crisp Marine uniform, he wore a brown changshan-style coat and matching pants. His slightly hunched frame made it hard to judge his actual age.
To Atlas, he looked like only one thing: sleazy and ugly.
If Borsalino (Kizaru) radiated sleaziness from within, Tokikake gave off the same vibe purely by appearance. No wonder he was said to rival Kizaru in sheer weirdness back at HQ.
"Greetings, Rear Admiral Tokikake. I'm Kanos Atlas. I've heard a lot about you," Atlas replied with a polite nod, showing no hesitation in offering compliments—whether Tokikake's reputation was good or bad was another matter.
Despite appearances, Tokikake was known for his deep concern for civilians—he was a good man beneath the surface.
"No, no, it's you who's famous, Atlas! I've been dying to meet the Marine rising star in person!"
Tokikake was a man of high emotional intelligence, far less uptight than someone like Akainu.
He didn't mind being mocked for his looks and was even infamous for simultaneously courting Tsuru while frequenting pleasure ships, to everyone's disbelief.
"Alright, enough small talk. Let's get Crocodile on board first."
After exchanging pleasantries, Tokikake's tone turned serious as he gestured toward the prisoner.
"Tch—finally! Have you two stopped flattering each other yet? Damn hypocrite Marine brats…" Crocodile, long annoyed by their chatter, couldn't hold his tongue any longer.
Neither Tokikake nor Kanos' Atlas paid any attention to Crocodile's taunts. The two escorted him into the temporary prison cell aboard the warship.
Marine Headquarters — Marineford, Inside Sengoku's Office.
Seated at his desk was Fleet Admiral Sengoku, with his trademark bushy black hair, frog-shaped glasses, and thick braided beard.
At his side, a white goat silently chewed on discarded documents.
Unlike his usual posture of being buried in paperwork, today, Sengoku wore a serious expression as he stared at the man sitting across from him.
The man's face was mostly hidden behind thick coils of cigarette smoke, but his iron-willed and hardened features could still be made out.
A bold tattoo crept from his neck, and he wore a plain Marine cap atop his head.
His outfit—a deep crimson suit with a matching dark rose pinned to his chest—carried an unsettling, almost eerie charm.
"Sakazuki, how are things looking in the New World?" Sengoku directed the question to Akainu, who had just returned to headquarters for recuperation after a campaign in the New World.
The Marines maintained their strongest control in the first half of the Grand Line, but further influence in the New World remained a challenge.
The strength of the pirates there was overwhelming, and the chaotic situation made it difficult for the Marines to get a foothold.
"Same as always," Akainu said coldly.
"Those evil pirates keep tearing each other apart, but the three dominant forces remain: the Whitebeard Pirates, the BIG MOM Pirates, and the Beasts Pirates."
"There's also a temporary alliance between the Yermak Pirates, the Crowus Pirates, the Blood Scythe Pirates, and the Francis Pirates."
"They've allied?" Sengoku raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Tch—pirates are backstabbers by nature," Akainu replied, narrowing his eyes. "Even in the vast New World, there's no space for so many aspiring pirate overlords."
"Not a single crew among them could stand alone against Whitebeard, BIG MOM, or Kaido. Banding together was their only option—at least for now."
He paused before continuing. "But eventually, they'll start fighting each other again. Those four won't stay allied forever, tucked away in one corner of the New World."
"Greed will always be mankind's greatest enemy—especially among pirates."
One had to admit, for all of Akainu's extreme ideals, his strategic vision was razor-sharp. He had laid out the state of the New World with absolute clarity.
"Yes, exactly," Sengoku nodded. "What the Marines need to do is take advantage of their chaos. If any one of the Three Emperors is taken down, it'll come at a massive cost."
"But once the New World descends into war, the Marines can strike from a position of strength."
"Most of our forces have already been sent to the New World," he continued.
"We're just waiting for those major pirate crews to start clashing. Once they do, we can weaken all three factions and slowly expand our control over the region."
Right now, top Marine powers like Garp, Akainu, and Tsuru are stationed in the New World.
As for Kizaru and Aokiji—well, one was clocking in and out like a civil servant at Mary Geoise, and the other was lazily biking across the seas.
Sengoku was constantly at his wits' end with these two. Kizaru was manageable—he had always been like that.
But Aokiji… Sengoku had once placed great hopes on him.
After the Ohara Incident, however, the man who embodied "Burning Justice" had become the embodiment of "Lazy Justice."
He was now almost as laid-back as Kizaru.
Sengoku couldn't help but feel bitter. As a Fleet Admiral, his position was anything but enviable.
The Five Elders bore down from above, while below him, he had to deal with Garp's whimsical attitude, Kizaru's half-hearted effort, Aokiji's endless wandering—and while Akainu was diligent, his extreme methods often crossed the line.
Thinking about all of this, Sengoku suddenly felt like the world was going dark.
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