Another conference room.
Aramaki sat in a chair.
Several World Government officials responsible for the postwar investigation stood opposite him. The table was piled with records of last night's battle at Mary Geoise.
One of them opened a file.
"Aramaki."
"Under the Five Elders' orders, you were responsible for sealing off the Revolutionary Army's escape routes."
"Why did all those slaves still manage to escape?"
Aramaki leaned back in his chair and lifted his eyelids slightly.
"Sabo can teleport."
"Morley can dig holes through the Red Line."
"Karasu can turn into coal ash and fly everywhere."
He counted them off on his fingers.
"And there was Lindbergh, darting around with mechanical wings on his back."
"Then Monkey D. Dragon himself showed up."
As he spoke.
Aramaki yanked open the front of his shirt, revealing a wound across his chest that had not fully healed.
His shoulders and arms likewise bore extensive traces of battle.
"See for yourselves."
"How the hell was I supposed to guarantee catching every last one?"
The officials fell silent for a moment.
Because there was nothing wrong with that explanation.
Or, more accurately.
The evidence left at the scene was even more convincing than Aramaki's own account.
Near the evacuation zone last night, more than half a district had been covered by forest.
Massive trees had burst through the roads and torn apart the ground, almost completely blocking the Revolutionary Army's escape route.
Some of the thickest ones had even been dozens of meters tall.
Then Dragon arrived in person.
The storm collided head-on with the forest, uprooting hundreds of giant trees.
Even now, vast stretches of broken roots still lay scattered across the site.
Aramaki himself had also been injured.
No matter how one looked at it, he had indeed tried to stop them—and he