Marshal, are you going back to the New World?

In a world where Den Den Mushi exist, news travels at lightning speed.

The banquet in Dressrosa stretched from noon deep into the night, finally ending at Aleus's insistence before it could drag into a second day. He then led his aides back to his flagship, declining the invitation to stay overnight at the Royal Palace.

The moment he stepped aboard, before he could even settle into his seat, Fran stood before him, holding a ceaselessly ringing Den Den Mushi.

"It's Former King Worlek," she said softly.

"Grandfather? What now?" Aleus muttered, taking the Den Den Mushi and lifting the receiver.

"Hello?"

Before the word faded, "Yo! Aleus, it's your grandpa!"

The familiar booming voice rattled Aleus's ear, forcing him to stick his pinky in to scratch it. Only after the hearty laughter died down did he ask, "Grandfather, what is it this time?"

"I heard all about it!"

"About what?"

"You taking down Umit! The news has already spread across the New World. Even the World Government has received reports from below. The King of Maritime Transport has fallen—another wave of upheaval is about to hit the New World... The Navy's been pestering for money, warships, and equipment again. I'm just a small-time director of the Barrel Manufacturing Bureau—why are they coming to me about stocks? Go to the Stock Manufacturing Bureau! It's driving me insane."

On the Red Line Continent, inside a World Government office building, this was the domain of the Barrel Manufacturing Bureau.

The World Government was a behemoth beyond ordinary imagination, boasting over 170 member nations while controlling the Red Line Continent, the world's only continent. To govern such a vast territory naturally required an equally colossal ruling apparatus.

Since the twenty kings founded the World Government eight hundred years ago, it had evolved over the centuries into a bloated, monstrous entity.

Those who never delved into its inner workings could never fathom just how grotesquely swollen the World Government had become. For instance, the production of a single musket was subdivided into over twenty manufacturing bureaus, their tangled relationships leaving every new official lost in a fog.

Of course, one could argue this was the natural progression of a society built on refined division of labor.

But—

The Barrel Manufacturing Bureau alone had over fifty clerical staff, half of whom were on the payroll without doing any real work. The remaining half mostly showed up sporadically, and even when they did, they only handled meaningless paperwork.

The truly busy ones were the frontline workers and on-site supervisors—yet they held the lowest status. Workers scraped by on meager wages, barely enough to feed their families, with nothing left for any extra expenses. Even a minor mishap meant the collapse of a household.

The World Government's deformity and perversion were laid bare in these trivial details.

Still—

Overwhelming military force crushed any possibility of a civilian uprising. The blood on the Celestial Dragons' blades had never cooled. Without power to rival the World Government, a revolution from below was all but impossible.

"... Aleus, the stir you've caused this time is no small matter!"

After rambling through a string of irrelevant nonsense from his office, Sokachio Worlek finally circled back to the main topic.

He was a handsome old man, his gray-white hair neatly trimmed, his bright green eyes sharp and clear—nothing like the murky gaze of typical elders. A well-tailored suit perfectly accentuated his robust, age-defying frame, the faint outlines of chiseled muscles enough to make many young women's eyes sparkle with admiration.

Cigar in mouth, he sat in a newly replaced leather office chair, blowing a smoke ring at the ceiling. His gaze drifted past the massive floor-to-ceiling window to the bright, jade-like full moon outside, and he continued:

"From what I've gathered, Umit had no ties to the World Government. The internal chatter this time is mostly about who'll replace him as the next King of Maritime Transport in the New World. Unless something major shifts, I doubt the World Government will intervene in this affair."

"After all, the New World is, in a sense, occupied territory—a lawless land beyond the Holy Land's jurisdiction. The Holy Land is more than happy to see chaos erupt within the New World. But the Navy... I'm not sure what the Navy will do."

The old man spoke.

The Navy was the World Government's legitimate armed force, the largest military organization on the planet.

As the saying goes, a big forest has all kinds of birds. The Navy, being such a massive institution, was naturally rife with internal discord. The three Admirals each upheld different ideals of justice, spawning various factions. Not to mention the internal struggles—the conflicts between the Navy, the World Government, and Holy Land Mary Geoise had never ceased.

The Navy was a direct subordinate of the World Government, theoretically bound to accept its commands and those of the Holy Land. And indeed, the Navy complied—but it had never relinquished its drive for autonomy. In countless rounds of top-down confrontation, the Navy had learned to exploit loopholes in the Holy Land's orders, striving to seize more power.

Ever since being swept out of most of the New World by the Four Emperors, the Navy's lingering obsession had been to return, to reclaim control over that lawless land.

"The Navy has never given up on the New World. On the contrary, they've been fighting to get back—demanding funds, equipment, authority... Over these petty matters, Fleet Admiral Sengoku has clashed with the Five Elders more times than I can count."

"Aleus, with Umit fallen, the New World's powers are reshuffling. The Navy might see this as a golden chance to re-enter. Aleus, your father tells me you're thinking of snagging a Shichibukai seat for fun? Are you sure you're not joking with him?"

"It's true."

Aleus lifted the steaming Coffee Milk, took a light sip, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue, and wore a contented expression. "And don't make it sound like I'm up to no good. The Shichibukai isn't some shady title!"

"So, Aleus, you really intend to take over Umit's legacy? You're planning to become the next King of Maritime Transport in the New World?"

Worlek pressed.

"My spoils—I'm not about to let anyone else take a cut," Aleus said casually.

Hearing this unsurprising answer, Worlek still felt a throbbing headache. "Aleus, have you really thought this through? The Shichibukai looks impressive on the surface, but it's a muddy pit. If you jump in, even if you crawl out, you'll be caked in filth."

"You killed Umit, showing both our friends and enemies the muscle of Ekmondo Kingdom's next king. Your performance is flawless. Neither I nor your father were half as outstanding at your age. There's no need for you to wade into the messy business of New World shipping!"

Worlek pleaded earnestly, trying to talk his overly brilliant grandson out of such a dangerous idea.

Yes—

Aleus's plan struck Worlek as perilous.

Accustomed to a policy of lying low, guarding Ekmondo Kingdom's little patch of land, and slowly cultivating growth, the old man found Aleus's aggressive thinking hard to stomach.

"Grandfather, save your breath. Once I've made up my mind, I don't change it lightly."

Aleus cut off the persuasion.

"Don't forget, the New World is actually a very simple place—here, the strong are kings, and the victor is true justice... And I, Sokachio Aleus, crown prince of the Ekmondo Kingdom, look forward more to earning the title of [Black Emperor] in the future than the [Black Prince] moniker."

The Den Den Mushi fell silent.

Sokachio Worlek, sitting in his office, was stunned by his grandson's words.

He didn't even notice the cigar slipping from his fingers onto the desk.

Black... Emperor?

In this era, the ancient title of 'Emperor' was rarely used by nations anymore, but over the past decade or so, it had gradually evolved into a term for the Great Pirates. After the four Pirate Emperors firmly established their supreme authority in the New World, 'Emperor' became an exclusive title for the mightiest pirates.

"Al, are you going to become a pirate... No, wait, that..."

Worlek's mind was in a jumble.

He understood that Aleus wasn't talking about becoming a pirate at sea, but about status—he aimed to become an existence as powerful as a Pirate Emperor. That was even more troubling than going to sea as a pirate; such immense ambition wasn't necessarily a good thing—

But, This grandson of his might not lack the strength to match that ambition.

The title Black Emperor might not just be empty nonsense.

"... Al, don't say things like that so casually anymore. You... forget it, do whatever you want! I've realized my experiences and lessons might not suit you... Anyway, whatever you plan to do, try to preserve the foundation our ancestors left behind. Don't... that's it!"

Worlek picked up the cigar from the desk and tossed it into the ashtray.

After chatting a bit more with his most valued eldest grandson, he hung up the Den Den Mushi, stood up, and walked to the window. Through the glass, he gazed up at the full moon, his emotions churning, still not recovered from the conversation's lingering impact.

"Pirate Emperor... Shichibukai..."

He let out a deep breath, and finally, a trace of weariness befitting his age appeared on his face.

"Stupid kids are a problem, but ones too clever are a hassle too! Still... Black Emperor, that name's not bad at all!"

Gazing at the same full moon in the sky.

Different people naturally have different feelings.

This was [Marineford], Navy Headquarters—the base of millions of Marines worldwide and a region feared like a tiger by countless pirates.

"Tsuru, having a meeting so late—sorry for the trouble."

"Sengoku, what's going on? An emergency meeting at this hour?"

"It's a big matter. Take a look at this intel first. Everyone's not here yet, so wait a bit."

The man known as "Buddha Sengoku" and "The Wise General Sengoku," the highest authority in the Navy and current Fleet Admiral, pushed the documents on his desk toward Vice Admiral Tsuru, seated at his right hand. His long, braided beard lightly tapped the table with his movements, and behind his frog-eyed glasses, a complex light flickered in his eyes.

"This is..."

As Vice Admiral Tsuru skimmed through the file at a glance, Someone else pushed open the meeting room door and entered.

"Sakazuki, you're here!"

Watching the man in a dark red suit, a Navy hat on his head, and black leather gloves on his hands walk in—his face sharp as if carved by knives and axes, with a brow and eyes brewing a majesty and tyranny enough to scare many—Sengoku nodded lightly in greeting.

"Fleet Admiral, what happened?" Sakazuki picked a random seat and sat down, asking in a deep voice.

"Hahaha! Sengoku, Tsuru, you two got here too fast, huh? Oh, Sakazuki, you little brat, you're here too!" Before Sengoku could answer Sakazuki's question, the meeting room door was shoved open again, and a laughing old man burst in.

"Garp, you bastard, sit down properly right now."

At present, at Navy Headquarters, the three Admirals—Admiral Borsalino, codenamed [Kizaru], commanding the Navy's Science Unit and personally protecting Dr. Vegapunk, who was conducting research on the New World island 'Punk Hazard'; and Admiral Kuzan, codenamed [Aokiji], who had recently left on a mission and was still away—

So, Only Admiral Sakazuki, codenamed [Akainu], was stationed at headquarters.

The lineup in the meeting room now represented the highest combat power the headquarters could assemble.

"Everyone's here. It's late, so I'll skip the formalities and get straight to the point." Fleet Admiral Sengoku cleared his throat, pushed the file Vice Admiral Tsuru had finished reading over to Sakazuki, and said, "Not long ago, Vice Admiral Vergo, Base Commander of the New World G5 Branch, sent back a piece of intel."

"Umit has been killed." He spoke slowly, word by word.

"Umit? Who's that... Ah! That guy who called himself the King of Maritime Transport in the New World?"

Vice Admiral Garp, picking his nose, thought hard and recalled a vague impression.

"That's right, the King of Maritime Transport." Sengoku nodded.

"I've met that guy before. I remember his fist technique was sloppy, and his physique wasn't great... Well, he was barely a decent fighter. To take out Umit, did that crazy woman Big Mom make a move? Or was it one of her sons?" Vice Admiral Garp didn't even glance at the file Sakazuki pushed over, just kept pestering Sengoku with questions.

"Sakazuki, finished reading?"

Sengoku ignored this most troublesome old bastard and instead asked Sakazuki, "Any thoughts?"

"Sokachio Aleus... not a pirate, but still an unstable factor. Someone who won't behave properly must be punished."

"Ah? Don't say that. A member state of the World Government—don't bother with that troublesome stuff for now. I want to know your view on the future shift in the New World's situation."

"... Fleet Admiral, are you planning to raise an army and return to the New World again?"