On the dog-headed warship docked in Marineford Harbor, Garp stood with his hands on his hips and bellowed, "Look at you two—do you even resemble Marines right now? In broad daylight, reeking of alcohol! I'm embarrassed for you. Is this how I've been teaching you all these years?!"
In truth, Ortoren and Kuzan hadn't drunk much at all. They had only just sat down, and for men of their caliber, that bit of alcohol was no stronger than plain water.
Looking at Garp—draped in his Justice cloak, but underneath wearing a gaudy beach shirt and baggy shorts—Ortoren couldn't help but suspect the man had just been running around on the beach with a water gun and hadn't even bothered to change. He must have started scolding them first to stop them from making fun of him.
What a cunning old man.
Seeing the odd looks from Kuzan and Ortoren, Garp seemed a little embarrassed himself. He gave a short snort, then casually wrapped things up. "Forget it, I'll let you off this time. Watch yourselves next time. Bogard, get us moving."
Bogard blinked in surprise. "The Fleet Admiral's ship hasn't even set off yet."
"We'll wait ahead. No point clogging up the port. What if he tries to board my ship?" Garp waved dismissively, speaking without hesitation.
Ortoren: ???
What kind of logic is that?
"Garp-san… aren't we supposed to meet the Fleet Admiral? Didn't you just say our mission is to escort him?" Ortoren quickly asked.
"No need, no need. It's not like there aren't other warships. I'm not sitting on the same ship as the Fleet Admiral—he'll talk me to death." Garp shook his head firmly.
Ortoren was left dumbfounded. Kuzan chuckled and explained, "Every time the Fleet Admiral meets Garp-san alone, he goes on and on, giving him lectures about all sorts of big issues—like how the Marines are still short an Admiral. That's why Garp-san avoids meeting him one-on-one."
At that moment, Ortoren felt once again the cruel malice of society. Here he was, a young man eager to rise through the Marine ranks, yet stuck under a middle-aged man who had no desire to advance at all—so much so that Ortoren couldn't even get close to the top brass.
If you don't maintain a good relationship with your superiors, how are you supposed to get promoted?
"Garp-san might just be my greatest lifelong obstacle in my career," Ortoren muttered, rubbing his chin with a sigh.
"What are you mumbling about, kid?" In the blink of an eye, Garp had fished out some senbei from who-knows-where and was happily crunching away.
Ortoren shot the useless old man a glare. "I was wondering if I knew anyone in personnel who could arrange me a transfer."
"Transfer?!" Garp froze for a second before realizing what he meant, then started cursing. "So you don't want to work under me anymore, is that it?"
And with that bit of commotion, Garp's dog-headed warship slowly began to sail out of the harbor.
On the docks, Fleet Admiral Kong—who had been discussing matters with Sengoku—suddenly noticed one of his ships setting sail. He was momentarily stunned. I'm not even aboard yet!
What, is the Fleet Admiral not worthy of riding the flagship?
Ah… it's Garp's ship. Never mind then—he's a hopeless troublemaker anyway.
Seeing Kong's stiff expression, Sengoku chuckled. "Told you not to bring him along. One of these days, he's going to make you sick."
Kong forced a smile. "It's fine. There'll be plenty of chances along the way. I'm leaving headquarters in your hands for now—think of it as a chance to get familiar with the Fleet Admiral's work."
If he didn't already know Kong's character and temperament, Sengoku might have suspected his superior was trying to sideline him.
Who's ever heard of someone being an Admiral for sixty years?
…No, wait—that's not right. I haven't even been an Admiral that long.
Soon after, Kong boarded his own warship, and the fleet began to depart, ships leaving Marineford's military port one after another.
The Fleet Admiral's fleet had departed, but Sengoku remained on the pier, waiting. After more than ten minutes, a warship entered the harbor, and Borsalino stepped off, looking travel-worn.
It had been over four months since Sengoku last saw Borsalino, and an entire year since he had assigned him the mission to investigate the MADS research team.
Clearly exhausted, Borsalino wasted no time in complaining. "Sengoku-san, next time there's an intel mission like this, leave it to Tsuru and her team of specialists, or just hand it straight to the CP Agency. I really can't take much more of this…"
"You need to polish that lazy attitude of yours," Sengoku said with a sharp glare. "Any progress?"
"Big progress! Otherwise, I wouldn't have been gone so long." Borsalino straightened up slightly. "The MADS research team recently made a major breakthrough. It took me a lot of work to piece it together. Here's the intel."
He handed over the prepared documents. Sengoku took them, opened the file, and began reading. A few minutes later, his brow furrowed. "Lineage Factor?"
"That's right. The technology derived from this theory is something they call the 'Life Design Blueprint.' As the name suggests, you can imagine how dangerous it is. Life is not truly equal—your genetic makeup determines much from the moment of birth. Take Charlotte Linlin, for example: a pure human, yet her physical abilities are monstrous. Most people, by contrast, are just ordinary. But this technology allows for the adjustment of genes before birth—while still in the womb—to literally design 'life'..." Borsalino said seriously.
Sengoku's eyes narrowed in surprise. "So once this technology is fully mastered, it could mass-produce life forms with the same terrifying potential as Charlotte Linlin?"
"In theory, yes. They're only just beginning to explore it, so it's not certain yet. But from what I've learned, they've already made huge strides—especially in cloning and accelerated growth. Cloning, I don't need to explain. Accelerated growth means a cloned lifeform could develop from embryo to a fully-grown young adult of around twenty-three or twenty-four in just three to five years. Combine that with the Life Design Blueprint, and you can imagine the power," Borsalino said.
In the original story, Vinsmoke Judge—Sanji's father and also a member of MADS—combined these two technologies. But his ability still fell far short of Vegapunk's, and with the Life Design Blueprint incomplete, all Judge could manage was the mass production of clone soldiers: absolutely loyal, fearless, and with the skills of elite troops.
Even so, Germa became a powerhouse of war, carving out a place in the underworld.
Perfect this technology, though, and the scale would be terrifying. Mass-produce monsters like Charlotte Linlin, alter their minds from birth for absolute loyalty and fearlessness… with such a weapon, pacifying the world and unifying the seas would be child's play.
Just imagining the scenario made cold sweat break out on Sengoku's back. He had thought MADS was merely an eccentric group of fringe scientists, and his interest in them was only because they kept leaking dangerous, forbidden weapons—biological viruses, chemical agents, and the like.
And with Dr. Vegapunk's stellar reputation in the scientific community, plus the Marines' plans to form a scientific division, they had intended to use these illegal activities as justification to "conscript" Vegapunk into Marine service.
But the investigation had revealed something far worse—this technology was even more dangerous than the Ancient Weapons.
This couldn't be allowed to continue. What had begun as a half-serious effort was now a firm resolve: MADS had to be eradicated, and at the very least, Vegapunk had to be brought under Marine control.
"Such evil defies the natural order. Investigate them thoroughly and wipe out these mad scientists!" Sengoku ordered in a low, firm voice.
"Wipe them out? You mean kill them? No problem," Borsalino replied at once.
Sengoku froze for a moment, then patted his shoulder. "Why are you so bloody and violent? Is that how I taught you? Killing at the drop of a hat—is that a Marine's way of thinking? As agents of justice, killing without first offering a chance to reform is a crime. We must give them that chance. Understand?"
Borsalino thought to himself, No wonder you're an admiral. Your way with words is leagues ahead of mine.
If you want their technology, just say it. Why dress it up as 'don't kill without teaching'?
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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