Creed wouldn't let them decide ranks by brawling. Instead, he chose something better: battlefield merit.
Since a string of major wars was inevitable, using war merit to determine status and order within the crew was the most sensible path. Whoever contributed more to the Creed Pirates would receive the higher position.
That rule applied to everyone—including Moria and Crocodile.
Even so, because Crocodile had defected earlier and worked tirelessly ever since, Creed still confirmed him as First Division Captain.
"That's settled, veggie-head! You're doomed to lose!"
Bartolomeo accepted Creed's proposal and pointed at Cavendish with a laugh.
"With those rejects of yours? You might not even hold the Eighth Division seat," Cavendish sneered, eyeing the men of Bartolomeo's club.
To be fair, Bartolomeo's people were landlubbers until recently, with shaky sailing experience. The funniest part? When they ran into problems at sea, they sometimes called their grannies back home—who could only offer household tips that solved nothing. To this day they didn't even have a proper navigator. No one knew how they'd made it to the New World at all.
"You dare look down on my crew, cabbage-head? Just you wait—Third Division Captain is mine."
Bartolomeo rolled up his sleeves, ready to swing. But remembering they were all Creed-senpai's people now, he reluctantly backed off.
"Look down on you? I only know this—if you hadn't tailed me the whole way, you'd never have reached the New World alive."
"Bah! The sea's big and wide—who tailed you? I only followed after hearing you were going to challenge Creed-senpai and steal his popularity. I came to teach you a lesson!"
Watching the two square up again, sleeves half-rolled, Creed could only sigh.
Just like in the stories, the pair couldn't stand each other at first glance—but they'd forge a deep bond through battle.
Soon after, Creed invited them aboard the Creed to join the feast already in full swing.
"Me—me too?! I'm not dreaming?!"
Bartolomeo was so excited by Creed-senpai's invitation that he nearly burst, "Then I can meet Ryder-senpai, Robin-senpai… I'm so happy!"
Cavendish snorted at his reaction. "Country bumpkin. Never seen the world."
"Heh. Even if I'm a bumpkin, I'm still the Third Division Captain over your head," Bartolomeo shot back.
"Hmph!"
Cavendish puffed his cheeks, still sulking. He'd come today to give Creed trouble—cross swords with him and settle old scores for being chased by Garp years ago. Yet after being crushed by Creed, his temper just… evaporated. Even he found that strange.
"Creed!!"
After Creed introduced them to the others, the banquet rolled on.
"Robin-senpai, I'm Bartolomeo, newly appointed Third Division Captain under Captain Creed! If you need anything, don't hold back!"
"Ryder-senpai, I'm Bartolomeo, newly appointed Third Division Captain under Captain Creed! If you need anything, don't hold back!"
"Perona-senpai…"
Bartolomeo bounded around the deck, bowing and greeting everyone with glowing eyes. Cavendish, playing it cool, offered curt hellos, then stood aside to drink alone. But after Brook wandered over for a chat, Cavendish's eyes lit up too.
"Mr. Brook, I didn't expect you to be so learned. Your knowledge of Rommel surpasses even mine. I'm glad we met."
"Yohohoho, you flatter me. I've just had too much time and read a few more books," Brook chuckled.
The merry feast soon wound down. After Crocodile transmitted his current location, Creed adjusted course to rendezvous with him. Meanwhile, the New World itself roared as never before: the Marines were moving their headquarters in, kicking up a global storm.
But before the Marines could act, they were rocked by a bombshell—one traced back to Creed.
Marineford, the old Marine Headquarters. All top Marine brass were present—everyone except Sakazuki.
Today they would finalize the decision to relocate headquarters.
Everything had been set. The Marine HQ would move into the New World; opening a new theater was unavoidable.
Yet just as they were about to issue the mobilization orders, a world-shaking report arrived:
Creed defeated Big Mom on Fishman Island! He also shattered hundreds of li of the Red Line, annihilating the landing port there. The overland route through the Red Line is now closed indefinitely, with no estimate for reopening. The world economy has already begun to quake from the fallout.
And one more: Shiki the Golden Lion—first and only man to escape Impel Down—had appeared, and raised Fishman Island from ten thousand meters below the sea!
When the report ended, the conference room fell silent.
"Ha—ha—ha! As expected of my grandson! A hero of Fishman Island!"
Garp, happily munching rice crackers, burst into carefree laughter. Feeling the hard stares around him, he swallowed the rest of his laugh. "Relax. I'll bring him in myself. That brat's made a mess of the faith our Marines placed in him!"
Everyone was speechless. Back when your son Dragon defected from the Marines to build the Revolutionary Army, you said the same thing. Decades passed—and now Dragon threatens the World Government itself.
No one doubted Garp's heart as a Marine hero. But that such a legend's son and grandson both strayed so far—it baffled them.
"Quiet, Garp."
Sengoku rapped the table. "If he can defeat Big Mom, it means Creed has the power of an Emperor—maybe even a monster on Kaido's level. We must treat the Creed Pirates as the top unknown variable in our relocation plan."
"And Shiki," Sengoku continued. "As the only great pirate to escape Impel Down, he's always been our shame. Concentrate our strength and eliminate him once and for all. No need to take him alive."
Vice Admiral Onigumo spoke up. "Fleet Admiral, if we're entering the New World, shouldn't we designate the Creed Pirates as our primary elimination target?"
"Agreed!" Vice Admiral Doberman added at once. "Creed only just rose to Emperor status—his foundation is still shallow. If the Marines strike like thunder, we can catch him off guard and wipe him out in one blow!"
They were Sakazuki's elite, after all—and none of them could stomach the man who had defeated their admiral.
In the Marines' plan for the New World, the first move was clear: defeat—or destroy—one Emperor to make their name feared.
(End of Chapter)
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