A Crazy World

"Hundreds a day?"

Beckman sucked in a cold breath. Those few light, airy numbers were far from just numbers.

Ten thousand aircraft, three hundred people each.

That meant that as long as Ross was willing, he could airdrop three million fully armed marines onto any island in this world in just a few short hours.

And this terrifying strategic deployment machine—they could still churn out hundreds of them every day like dumplings, with their eyes closed?

The hover car they were riding in now, the steel giants flying through the sky... and the trump cards he still wasn't even qualified to see—their numbers would only be even greater, even more horrifying.

The gap was truly far too vast.

"That thing flying in the sky... I think we've seen it once before?"

Hongo, who had been struck speechless all this time, finally came back to himself a little.

With a complicated look and a hint of reminiscence, he hesitated before saying, "But back then it was too far away and too fast. We thought it was some legendary ancient giant bird, or some unknown flying Mythical Zoan..."

"Oh? Is that so? Then this old man would bet you absolutely didn't see it in the East Blue, or the first half of the Grand Line."

Borsalino turned his head with a beaming smile, a faint glint reflecting off his lenses.

"How do you know? We were in the South Blue back then, right?" Hongo froze.

"Because..." Borsalino shrugged. "Because of that brat called Luffy. In the East Blue and those specific areas of the Grand Line, absolutely no objects that surpass the era are allowed to appear."

The air inside the cabin froze solid in that instant.

The fingers Beckman held his cigar with trembled sharply, and most of the burned-down ash