Chief of Staff

The white-masked man made his judgment the very first second after Sabo landed.

Retreat.

He pushed off the ground with both feet, propelling himself backward at such speed that he tore a visible trail of air through the air. At the same time, his right hand reached into a hidden pocket at his waist and pulled out a signal flare. His thumb gripped the pull ring, indicating that his two companions needed to reposition themselves within three seconds.

But he didn't have time to pull out the signal flare.

Sabo's pipe had already smashed into his wrist.

The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed in the study. The signal flare slipped from the white-masked man's hand, the spent cartridge bouncing twice on the floor before rolling into the corner, the pull ring intact.

The white-masked man's wrist was going numb. His Armament Haki had reduced most of the impact, but the density of the force transmitted through the tube exceeded his expectations.

He glanced at Sabo's hand holding the tube.

Armament Haki covered the middle of the forearm, with a uniform color and no flickering or instability.

This is a fighter who is extremely skilled in using Armament Haki.

Not a beginner.

"Chief of Staff the Revolutionary Army." For the first time, the voice behind the mask showed a slight change.

Why are you here?

"You don't need to know." Sabo pulled the tube back to his side.

"All you need to know is to start by deriving the reasoning from the fact that you can't escape."

The gaze from behind the mask quickly swept around the room.

The ceiling was punched through, and the night sky could be seen through the gap.

The door was still open, and the sounds of Chaka could be heard from the corridor in the distance; their comrades in that direction were still battling.

The third companion was responsible for the outer perimeter blockade. He did not send a signal, which may have indicated that he had noticed something amiss and withdrew on his own, or he may have been tied down by other forces.

The three-person task force is out of control.

The white mask completed all assessments in two seconds.

"You alone can't possibly stop all three of us at the same time."

"I only need to stop you."

Sabo's tube pointed towards the mask.

"The other two, someone will handle them."

The breathing rhythm behind the mask changed.

He sensed the certainty in Sabo's tone.

That certainty wasn't just bluff; there really was someone waiting outside.

The sounds of fighting on Chaka's side suddenly stopped at that moment.

It wasn't Chaka who fell.

A new voice has joined the battlefield.

The metallic clanging sound was extremely high-frequency and very short-interval, with seventeen consecutive collisions completed within two seconds.

Then came a dull thud as a person slammed into the wall.

Footsteps came from the direction of the corridor.

Two sets of footsteps.

A heavy, muffled sound, like a dog's paws striking the stone surface—that was Chaka.

The other group was very light, but the rhythm had a dragging quality, as if they were doing something else while walking, like dragging a heavy object.

Two figures appeared at the doorway.

Chaka was covered in wounds, with a laceration on his left arm running from his shoulder to his elbow, blood seeping from his torn sleeve, but he was still standing, his scimitar still clutched in his right hand.

Standing next to him was a man who was half a head shorter than him.

The man was wearing a gray cloak with the hood pulled low, and he was carrying a white mask in his hand.

The person connected to the mask had lost consciousness and was being carried in the cloaked figure's hand like a sack.

"This is one of yours." The cloaked man threw the unconscious CP0 onto the ground by the door.

The voice was very young, and the gender was unclear.

Sabo glanced at the cloaked figure.

He didn't know this person.

But he noticed a detail.

The cloaked man has a pattern on the back of his right hand. The pattern is in the shape of a circle, and inside the circle is a symbol that looks like the sun.

The communication code of the Revolutionary Army's East Army.

"You're with the East Army." Sabo's tone carried a hint of surprise.

"Mr. Long issued the order three hours ago," the cloaked man's voice came from beneath his hood.

"The East Army's spies and liaison points in Alabasta are closest to the Royal Palace, so I arrived first."

"Mr. Long didn't tell me he issued any other instructions."

He said you would say that.

"Then what."

Then he told me to tell you: Stop talking nonsense and deal with the immediate issue.

Sabo's lips twitched.

It has a very dragon-like style.

The white-masked man in the study made his final tactical decision in those few seconds of conversation.

Mission failed.

Two of the three members of the unit have lost their combat capability or been controlled. Although the communication lines have been cut off, it is clear that the enemy reinforcements are not just one person.

There is only one outcome if the fight continues.

Completely annihilated.

A decision was made behind the mask.

His body began to move towards the window.

Retreat.

It's more valuable to return alive and report back than to die here.

But his movement was interrupted in the second step.

Sabo's pipe was positioned between him and the window.

Where to?

"You can't stop me." The masked voice regained its initial calm.

"You should know CP0's paper-throwing techniques and Six Powers. If I run at full speed, you can't catch me."

"I know I can't catch up," Sabo said.

But I don't need to chase after them.

He raised his left hand, palm open, facing the white mask.

Something is gathering in the center of the palm.

It's not about Haki.

It's calories.

The core temperature of that heat mass was rising rapidly, and a distorted optical effect began to appear in the air, as if the heat wave on the desert ground had been condensed into a space the size of a palm.

Flame-Flame Fruit.

No.

The mask negated its initial judgment within half a second.

This is not the Flame-Flame Fruit.

The color is wrong.

The flames of the Flame-Flame Fruit are orange-red, while the ball of something in Sabo's palm is a darker color, more closely resembling a specific flame shape.

The memory database behind the mask retrieved a matching information in a very short time.

Flame-Flame Fruit, a harbinger of Awakening.

Wrong.

This combination of color and heat density can only be achieved by one type of fruit.

The breathing behind the mask stopped for 0.3 seconds.

You ate the Flame-Flame Fruit.

"Inaccurate." The heat in Sabo's palm continued to rise.

"I ate the second-generation inheritor of the deceased Flame-Flame Fruit."

"But the principle is similar."

His fingers closed slightly, compressing the heat into a smaller space.

You now have two choices.

"First, stand still and wait for me to burn your mask. Then I'll remember your face, and you won't need to introduce yourself next time we meet."

Second, sit down and speak properly.

The masked figure glanced at the fire in Sabo's palm.

He glanced again at his companion being carried by the door.

He glanced again at the still-dripping scimitar in Chaka's hand.

One last look at Cobra.

The king remained seated in his chair, his fingers still resting on the rim of his teacup, a faint ripple spreading across the surface of the tea, whether from the earlier vibration or from the trembling of his fingers was unclear.

But Cobra's expression remained calm.

He was calmer than anyone else on the battlefield.

A final check was performed behind the mask.

Then he relaxed his body, and his hands slowly returned to his sides from the attacking stance, his fingers straightened, his palms open, revealing that there were no hidden weapons.

I choose option two.

The fire in Sabo's palm went out.

The temperature in the study slowly dropped, and the dry smell from the high temperature still lingered in the air.

Cobra up his teacup and took a sip.

The tea had gone completely cold.

He put down his cup and looked at Sabo, who was standing in the center of the floor where he had crashed from the ceiling. His gaze lingered on the young man's face for two seconds.

"You are a member of the Revolutionary Army."

"Chief of Staff, Sabo." Sabo turned to face Cobra.

His tone shifted from the sharpness he used when addressing the white mask to something else entirely—not gentle, but closer to a deliberately softened formality.

"Mr. Long asked me to protect you and Her Highness the Princess."

"The leader of the Revolutionary Army wants to protect a king." Cobra's lips curled into a slight smile.

"This would have been unthinkable just a few hours ago."

"Just a few hours ago, the whole world didn't know that the Celestial Dragons' ancestors were a group of war criminals," Sabo said.

"Times have changed, King Cobra."

"The Sky Screen changed it."

More footsteps echoed down the corridor; reinforcements from the Royal Palace guards had finally arrived.

Pell returned from another direction with Vivi; a few feathers were broken off the wings of the falcon-shaped creature, but the princess was unharmed.

Vivi ran into the study and saw her father still sitting safely in his chair. Her legs went weak, and she grabbed the doorframe for support.

Then she saw Sabo.

She saw the scars on his face, the hat, and the old scar on his right cheek that stretched from the corner of his eye to his jaw.

"Who are you."

Sabo looked at her and paused for a moment.

"I am Luffy's older brother."

Vivi's fingers tightened on the door frame.

"Luffy's."

"Yes." Sabo paused for a moment.

"The one that's still alive."

There was a three-second silence in the study.

The desert night wind blew in through the gap in the ceiling, bringing a wave of dry heat that fell on everyone's heads.

Cobra looked at the young man who claimed to be Luffy's brother, then at the unconscious white mask on the ground by the door, and then at the white mask surrendering in the corner.

He suddenly smiled.

The laughter was soft, carrying a relaxed quality unique to survivors of a disaster.

"It seems that what has changed in the Sky Screen is far more than just the truth of history."

"Even the line between friend and foe has become blurred."

His fingers touched the brass key that Vivi hadn't had time to take with her.

In the sky outside the window, the wind tunnel that stretched from the north was slowly dissipating, and the clouds high in the sky closed up again, obscuring the traces of the wind tunnel's dissipation.

At the window of the Revolutionary Army Headquarters, Long withdrew his outstretched hand.

The last wisp of energy in his palm dissipated.

He tapped his finger on the window frame.

"Sabo is here," he said to the air behind him.

No one responded.

He was alone in the room.

As he said this, his gaze fell on the countdown numbers still glowing on the Sky Screen.

The next roundup will begin in nineteen hours.

Nineteen hours.

The crisis in Alabasta has been temporarily averted, but the list of members of the Twenty Kingdoms Alliance has not yet been released.

The Five Elders will not send only one CP0 team.

After news of the first group's failure reaches the Holy Land, the second group will set off within six to eight hours.

There might be more than three people coming this time.

The dragon's finger paused on the window frame for a second.

Then he turned around and walked towards the Den Den Den Mushi on the table.

He picked up the receiver.

"Get me to the headquarters' Shipyard."

"Prepare the boat."

"Destination: Alabasta."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the Den Den Mushi.

"Mr. Long, are you going in person?"

The dragon placed the receiver back on its base without answering.

His finger paused for a moment on the invisible thread connecting Luffy's vital signs.

The heartbeat transmitted through the silk thread was very steady, seventy-two beats per minute.

Luffy is sleeping.

The dragon's lips moved slightly, but this time no sound came out.

He picked up his cloak, took it off the hook, and draped it over his shoulders.

He paused at the doorway before leaving the room.

"Notify the four Army Commanders." His voice echoed from the corridor.

"All units are on high alert."

"After the next roundup of Sky Screen's reports, it'll be time for us to get started."

The footsteps disappeared at the end of the corridor.

The lights in headquarters remained on after he left.

The countdown numbers on the Sky Screen ticked silently across the night skies around the world, each second shortening the distance between the approaching moment and the present.

Eighteen hours and fifty-nine minutes.

Eighteen hours and fifty-eight minutes.