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Grand Line — G-8 Fortress, Training Room
Inside the steel-paneled training room, silence hung in the air.
A few training machines were scattered around, but the only sound came from a young man relentlessly slamming his body against a massive steel boulder—fists, elbows, knees, even his back—nothing was held back.
That young man was none other than Kanos Atlas.
The enormous steel block was riddled with cracks and dented fist marks, its surface stained with dried blood—mute testimony to Atlas's brutal training.
Standing an imposing 2.8 meters tall, Atlas no longer had the youthful appearance he once did.
At just nineteen, his features were sharply defined, each line of his face chiseled as if carved from stone.
A harsh life at sea had bronzed his skin, while his piercing eyes and slightly arched brows gave him a stern, commanding air.
He wore no standard Marine cap; instead, his clean-cropped hair projected energy and discipline.
His physique was equally striking—muscular without being bulky, radiating refined strength.
His deltoids looked like armor plates, and his broad back tapered into a narrow waist, forming a perfect inverted triangle from behind.
With barely any body fat, each muscle fiber was visible, every inch of him exuding explosive power.
Boom!
Suddenly, the steel, finally unable to endure the onslaught, split apart where it stood.
Atlas paused, as though he had just grasped an idea—only for it to slip from his mind.
With his raw strength, he could have smashed the block simply by throwing it, but his goal was far harder: breaking it in place.
He believed mastering this would give his punches greater penetrative force—but for now, true success still eluded him.
"Captain Atlas! Vice Admiral Jonathan wants to see you!"
A Marine soldier stepped into the training room, delivering the summons.
His eyes widened at the shattered steel littering the floor—Atlas had become the living legend of G-8 Fortress.
In just three months, he had crushed the returning Ekrem Pirates from the New World, fought the Warlord Crocodile head-on, captured him, and since then personally guarded the stretch of the Grand Line that passed G-8.
No rookie pirate had escaped unscathed—it was now known as the Death Route.
"Got it. I'll head over shortly," Atlas replied, fully aware of the reverence in the Marine's eyes—but long accustomed to it.
For the past three months, his life had been a relentless cycle of training and missions.
Infamous veteran pirates or rookie captains with bounties over 100 million—it didn't matter. All had fallen before him.
Among pirates, Kanos Atlas now bore a fearsome epithet—the Devil Captain.
Vice Admiral Jonathan's Office
Atlas walked straight in without knocking.
After months of nonstop missions and assignments, the two had grown so familiar that formalities like knocking were pointless.
Jonathan, ever the easygoing type, didn't mind in the slightest.
"Vice Admiral Jonathan, you needed me? Is there already a new mission?"
Upon entering, Atlas found Jonathan tinkering with his fishing rods yet again, and couldn't help but sigh.
"Atlas, good to see you. Your trial period's 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 raised an eyebrow. He didn't think he'd earned that kind of special treatment… Had Sengoku suddenly grown sentimental?
Jonathan chuckled, reading his thoughts. "Hahaha, don't flatter yourself—it's not for you. They're here for Crocodile. HQ has decided to transfer him to Impel Down, but they've been short on the right personnel to handle the escort. A rear admiral stationed at HQ has been dispatched for the job."
Atlas exhaled slowly. So he was just hitching a ride. Still, he was surprised Crocodile was still at G-8.
He had been too busy hunting pirates to pay attention to the Warlord's status—but it made sense.
You couldn't assign just anyone to transport a man of Crocodile's strength.
"I'm curious—who's the rear admiral?" Atlas asked bluntly. He wasn't one to hide his curiosity.
"Oh, that…" Jonathan's grin widened. "Let's keep that as a surprise. Hahaha!"
Atlas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jonathan's love of suspense and vague answers was one of his most irritating habits.
"Fine. I'll find out in a few days anyway," Atlas smirked. A free ride back to HQ was nothing to complain about.
"Anything else? If not, I'll be going."
"Wait—one more thing!" Jonathan called after him. "A friend of mine wanted me to ask—do you have any preference for your base assignment after graduation?"
"I haven't thought about it," Atlas answered honestly. "I'll go wherever Admiral Sengoku decides."
It wasn't false modesty—Atlas truly hadn't considered it. Of course, if given the choice, he'd pick the New World. 'Paradise' was far too weak for him now.
With the combined power of the Horse, Ox, and Rabbit Talismans, his body was developing at an astonishing rate.
But instead of rushing to awaken more, he chose to fully master the ones he already possessed.
In particular, the Rabbit Talisman—he could feel he was on the brink of complete assimilation.
Three Days Later — G-8 Fortress Port
A massive Marine warship docked at the port, its crew busy with maintenance. At the bow, a man in a Justice coat stood grinning as Atlas approached.
Beside Atlas stood Crocodile, shackled and scowling, his injuries from their brutal battle almost completely healed. It was hard for Atlas to believe he had once beaten this man half to death.
"Yo! Young Atlas!" the man called out with a cheerful wave. "I'm Tokikake, Rear Admiral of Marine Headquarters!"
Atlas stared at him, expressionless.
Tokikake's slitted eyes were nearly closed, his wide hexagonal face framed by protruding ears. A crooked smile clung to his lips, a cigarette dangling lazily from one corner.
Instead of the crisp Marine uniform, he wore a brown changshan-style coat with matching pants. His slightly hunched posture made his age difficult to guess.
To Atlas, he looked like one thing—sleazy and ugly.
If Borsalino (Kizaru) radiated sleaziness from the inside out, Tokikake's was purely from appearance. No wonder people claimed he rivalled Kizaru in sheer oddness back at HQ.
"Greetings, Rear Admiral Tokikake. I'm Kanos Atlas. I've heard much about you," Atlas said with a polite nod. Whether Tokikake's reputation was good or bad was beside the point.
Despite his appearance, Tokikake was known for his genuine concern for civilians—a good man beneath the surface.
"No, no, you're the famous one, Atlas! I've been looking forward to meeting the Marine rising star in person!"
Tokikake had a knack for conversation and carried himself far more casually than someone like Akainu. He was even notorious for openly pursuing Gion while also frequenting pleasure ships—something few could believe.
"Alright, enough talk. Let's get Crocodile on board first."
After exchanging pleasantries, Tokikake's tone shifted as he gestured to the prisoner.
"Tch—finally! Done flattering each other? Hypocrite Marine brats…" Crocodile muttered, his patience worn thin.
Neither Tokikake nor Atlas paid him any mind, escorting him into the temporary prison cell aboard the warship.
Marine Headquarters — Marineford, Sengoku's Office
Admiral Sengoku sat at his desk, his trademark bushy black hair, frog-shaped glasses, and thick braided beard as imposing as ever.
A white goat stood at his side, quietly chewing on discarded documents.
Unlike his usual posture, hunched over stacks of paperwork, today Sengoku wore a grave expression as he regarded the man across from him.
The man's face was half-obscured by cigarette smoke, but his iron-hard features were unmistakable. A bold tattoo climbed his neck, and a plain Marine cap sat atop his head.
His deep crimson suit, accented with a dark rose on his chest, gave him a strangely ominous charm.
"Sakazuki, how are things in the New World?" Sengoku asked Akainu, who had returned to HQ to recuperate after a campaign there.
The Marines maintained their strongest presence in the first half of the Grand Line, but influence in the New World was far harder to secure. Pirate strength there was overwhelming, and the chaotic environment left little room for Marine control.
"Same as always," Akainu said coldly. "The pirates keep tearing each other apart, but 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.
"Tch—pirates are backstabbers by nature," Akainu said, narrowing his eyes. "Even in the vast New World, there's not enough room for that many would-be overlords. Not one of those four crews could stand alone against Whitebeard, Big Mom, or Kaido. Banding together was their only option—for now."
He paused before continuing. "But it won't last. Sooner or later, they'll turn on each other. Greed will always be mankind's greatest enemy—especially for pirates."
For all of Akainu's extreme ideals, his strategic clarity was undeniable. He had summed up the New World's state in a few blunt sentences.
"Exactly," Sengoku nodded. "The Marines need to exploit their chaos. If even one of the Three Emperors falls, the cost will be high—but once the New World plunges into war, we can strike from a position of strength."
"Most of our forces are already stationed there," he went on. "We're just waiting for those major crews to clash. When they do, we'll weaken all three factions and gradually expand our control."
At present, top officers like Garp, Akainu, and Tsuru are stationed in the New World.
Kizaru and Aokiji, however… one was shuffling between duties at Mary Geoise, the other lazily cycling across the seas.
Sengoku was constantly exasperated by the two. Kizaru was predictable—he had always been like that.
But Aokiji… Sengoku had once placed high hopes on him. Since the Ohara Incident, the man who embodied "Burning Justice" had cooled into "Lazy Justice," becoming nearly as laid-back as Kizaru.
It left a bitter taste. As Admiral, Sengoku's position was far from enviable—answering to the Five Elders above while managing Garp's whimsical attitude, Kizaru's half-effort, Aokiji's wandering, and Akainu's dangerous extremes.
The more he thought about it, the heavier the weight on his shoulders felt.
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