The Five Elders / Reactions from All Sides ...

Atlas understood what Luslan wanted to say, and she understood his concerns. Strictly speaking, they had no solid evidence for this operation. Besides, the Shichibukai were not technically subordinate to the Navy. Arresting Crocodile just like this would put Sengoku in a difficult position. The World Government would never agree to it.

But she would leave those headaches to Sengoku. Atlas was only responsible for completing the mission, and she trusted the Navy to shoulder the World Government's accusations for her.

"Achoo!"

Sitting in his office at Marine Headquarters, Sengoku suddenly sneezed for no apparent reason. He was baffled. With his constitution, how could he possibly catch a cold? Was that bastard Garp talking about him again?

Forget it. Sengoku put it out of his mind and returned to the documents in his hands.

"Luslan, do we have any Seastone Handcuffs aboard? Bring them over and cuff our Mr. Crocodile. He is a terrifying Logia user, after all."

Atlas gave Lulans the order with a mischievous edge to her voice.

"Huh? Yes, we do. Vice Admiral Jonathan specifically prepared some for us before we left." With that, Luslan ran into the storeroom to search for them.

"He specifically prepared them? Really... heh."

Atlas suddenly recalled Jonathan's meaningful look before their departure and couldn't help chuckling.

The Five Elders

"Holy crap, that scared me to death!"

In the sky not far from where Atlas and Crocodile had fought, an... albatross wearing a top hat and a black suit patted his chest with a remarkably human air of lingering fright. Then he slowly landed and carefully examined the camera he had just used.

"Thank goodness. It's not damaged!"

After putting Seastone Handcuffs on Crocodile, Atlas tossed him into the warship's temporary prison and ordered the crew to deliver food at regular intervals. Keeping him from starving to death was enough. Navy warships were sensibly designed, with kitchens, training rooms, bedrooms, prisons, and everything else they needed.

The return voyage went smoothly. A few days later, Atlas and the others arrived at the harbor of the G-8 fortress. After handing the bedraggled Crocodile over to the fortress prison, she headed straight for Jonathan's office.

After all, Jonathan was the base's commanding officer. Having brought back such a "big catch," Atlas naturally had to report the details of the operation.

Knock, knock, knock...

"Come in!"

Jonathan still sported his wine-red hair and thick, drooping mustache. Wearing a white shirt, he lounged casually behind his desk. He showed no surprise at Atlas's arrival. Instead, abandoning his usual reserved demeanor, he regarded her with a broad smile.

"Reporting, Vice Admiral Jonathan! Mission successfully completed! The incident in Alabasta was the work of the current Shichibukai, Crocodile. He has now been arrested!"

Atlas noticed Jonathan's expression but thought nothing of it, assuming he was pleased by how quickly she had completed the mission.

"I already know. Here, take a look at this!"

Jonathan casually picked up a newspaper from his desk and handed it to the puzzled Atlas.

Atlas took the newspaper. The first thing that caught her eye was a large headline: "Shocking! The Navy did this to Shichibukai Crocodile! Could the World Government abolish the Shichibukai?"

Most of the article described Atlas's battle with Crocodile in detail, then used it to analyze the state of the world. It claimed that the World Government had violated its pact with the Shichibukai, that the world's balance was about to crumble, and so on.

There were also photographs of Crocodile's horribly battered form and Atlas's imposing figure. She wondered whether Crocodile would hunt this reporter to the ends of the earth if he ever got out of prison.

Atlas checked the article's byline. The reporter's name was Morgans.

Morgans? Wasn't he the Underworld's king of news? No wonder her Observation Haki had "seen" a giant bird while she was fighting Crocodile. She had heard that this fellow was a Bird-Bird Fruit user.

She hadn't paid him any mind at the time. He was only watching the fight, after all, and hadn't broken any laws. She hadn't expected Morgans to be so bold as to openly speculate about the World Government.

"So you knew all along, Vice Admiral Jonathan!"

Atlas sounded a little helpless as she looked at Jonathan, who seemed eager to enjoy the show.

"Of course I knew. Admiral Sengoku is going to have quite a headache, though!" Jonathan looked positively delighted at Sengoku's misfortune. He had played a part in this incident himself, so of course he knew there was no conclusive evidence proving Crocodile's crimes. But now that the Navy had arrested him, how could they possibly let him go?

The Red Line, the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, the Room of Authority.

"Damn it! Who gave the Navy the authority to arrest a Shichibukai? This is a challenge to the World Government!"

A bald elder wearing glasses and a white robe roared in fury, a long sword cradled in his arms. It wasn't Crocodile's arrest itself that enraged him, but the faint suggestion that the Navy's role in the incident amounted to defiance of the World Government. Keeping the Navy controlled and restrained had always been an unspoken agreement among the five of them.

"Saint Nazzaro! Calm down. Now isn't the time to hold the Navy accountable!" Saint Lacroix, seated nearby, voiced his objection. He was a bald elder in a black suit with a birthmark on his face.

"What we need to discuss now is how to deal with Crocodile, and... whether to retain the Seven Warlords of the Sea system!" another of the Five Elders, a blond man in a red suit, added.

"Impossible! We cannot abolish the Seven Warlords of the Sea system now! You should all understand..." Agitated, the white-robed Saint Nazzaro rose from his chair and surveyed the others' expressions before continuing slowly, "The Seven Warlords of the Sea system doesn't just keep pirates in check. It also prevents the Navy from growing too powerful!"

"Enough, Saint Nazzaro, Saint Lacroix, Saint Alberic. The Seven Warlords of the Sea system cannot be abolished. Let's not bring it up again!" Seeing tempers flare, Saint Jiménez hastily intervened.

In truth, all five of them understood that the Shichibukai could not be abolished unless... the Navy came completely under their control, with them personally choosing who would take over as Fleet Admiral. Clearly, that was not possible at present.

"Very well. Now, how shall we deal with Crocodile?" Seeing that they had reached a consensus on the Seven Warlords of the Sea system, Saint Dexter calmly raised the other issue. He wore a black suit and a flat black cap, with curly white hair and a scar on his left cheek.

They actually cared nothing about whether Crocodile lived or died. What concerned them was the Navy's attitude, which would help them gauge how much control they held over it.

"Hmph! Call Sengoku and have him give us an explanation!" Once again, it was Saint Nazzaro, whose temper seemed particularly poor.

"Agreed!"

"Agreed!"

"Agreed!"

"Agreed!"

Saint Lacroix soon placed the call to Sengoku. The Den Den Mushi quickly took on the appearance of a man wearing round glasses, with a braided beard hanging from his chin.

"Hello, Sengoku speaking!"

"This is Saint Lacroix. We would like to know how your Navy intends to deal with Crocodile!"

"Saint Lacroix, the Navy's position is that Crocodile should be imprisoned in Impel Down and stripped of his Shichibukai title!" Sengoku had clearly prepared his answer well in advance. The Navy had long resented the Seven Warlords of the Sea system, and this was the perfect opportunity to reduce their numbers. As for abolishing the system altogether, the Navy knew that was impossible.

"What did you say, Sengoku? Your Navy has overstepped its authority!" Saint Nazzaro couldn't restrain himself, addressing the Den Den Mushi in a dark voice.

"Saint Nazzaro? This is the will of the Navy. Justice will not be desecrated!" This time, Sengoku's voice was even firmer, leaving no room for argument.

"The Navy is nothing more than..." Saint Nazzaro wanted to continue, but Saint Lacroix stopped him.

"Very well! We will proceed as you suggested..."

Click!

The call ended.

Reactions from All Sides

Sea Circle Calendar, year 1505. The Grand Line, the New World, an unnamed stretch of sea.

A large, three-masted ship with a whale-shaped bow sailed slowly across the turbulent sea. Huge waves battered its hull from time to time, yet none could shift it even slightly off course. Like its master—the world's strongest man, Whitebeard, Edward Newgate—it stood unshaken amid the surging tides of a new era.

Aboard the Moby Dick.

A young man of twenty-eight rose from the deck. He had blond hair styled in a punk cut and a dagger at his waist, while his open shirt revealed the distinctive tattoo of the Whitebeard Pirates. The messy deck still bore traces of the previous night's banquet. His eyelids drooped sleepily, and exhaustion covered his face. This was Marco, commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' first division and the ship's doctor.

Marco had followed Whitebeard across the seas since he was very young. Like Whitebeard, he had little ambition. He only wanted to live peacefully on this sea with his "family" aboard the ship. To him, Whitebeard was no different from a real father.

"Hm? Is there a new newspaper today?"

Marco raised a hand to beckon a News Coo overhead, then rummaged around in his clothes before finally producing a crumpled banknote. He accepted the newspaper under the bird's disdainful gaze.

"Honestly, all the money went into throwing banquets for Pops!"

It wasn't that Marco was poor. The Moby Dick simply held banquets so often, while Pops secretly sent all his money back to his hometown. Their own money all went toward buying booze. Marco was, after all, a great pirate renowned throughout the New World.

"Shichibukai? Navy Supernova? Kanos Atlas?"

Marco pursed his lips at the deliberately bold headline and continued reading, his brows drawing together. Crocodile naturally meant little to him. He regarded the so-called Shichibukai as nothing more than a joke. What caught his attention was that Navy Supernova. To possess such strength at that age... the Navy had been growing increasingly formidable over the years.

"Zehahahaha... Commander Marco, what are you reading? You're really absorbed in it!"

Suddenly, a dark-skinned man with thick, unruly black hair poked his head out beside Marco and asked curiously.

On closer inspection, the man looked rather comical. His shirt hung open, revealing dense body hair, and he was even missing several teeth. A green bandanna was tied around his forehead, while his neck and wrists were bare of any accessories.

An iron claw-shaped weapon hung at his left hip. An honest, good-natured smile rested on his face, but bottomless ambition lurked deep in his eyes.

"Oh, it's you, Teach. Here. A marine defeated that Crocodile fellow."

Seeing that Teach seemed interested, Marco handed him the newspaper.

Blackbeard froze briefly at those words. He took the newspaper and pretended to skim it indifferently, then laughed. "What an impressive little marine! But with Pops protecting me, all I want is to stay aboard and eat Cherry Pie every day. Zehahahahaha..."

"Honestly..." Seeing Blackbeard's utter lack of ambition, Marco shook his head helplessly, then took back the newspaper and ran toward Whitebeard's bedroom.

The instant Marco turned away, Blackbeard's expression darkened. No one saw the emotion called jealousy surface in his eyes.

"Making a name across the seas... what luck... just a little longer..."

"Huh? Wait, what are you waiting for, Teach?" Thatch, who had been sleeping nearby, suddenly woke and asked groggily.

"Zehahaha! Noth—ah, I'm waiting for you to wake up and make me some Cherry Pie!" That honest, good-natured smile instantly returned to Blackbeard's face. It would have been a shame not to award such acting an Oscar for Best Actor.

"You... I'll make some for you in a bit." Thatch addressed Blackbeard with helpless fondness. Since Blackbeard loved Cherry Pie, the two interacted often, and their relationship was naturally a little closer than with the other crew members.

"Pops! Pops! Look, that Crocodile fellow was beaten by a young marine!"

Meanwhile, Marco ran to Whitebeard's door and began shouting. Hearing him, Whitebeard emerged from his bedroom, his enormous shadow instantly enveloping Marco.

"Oh? That little brat who plays with sand? Gurarararara!"

Whitebeard had yet to show the age he would bear more than a decade later. His striking long blond hair hung loose, and his trademark white crescent mustache bobbed as he laughed.

"Ah? That's right, the Crocodile who tried to challenge you before. I heard the World Government invited him to become a Shichibukai. I never thought he'd be defeated by a young marine. The Navy really is getting stronger and stronger!"

As Marco spoke, worry crept into his voice.

"Gurarararara! He's just a little brat. I'm Whitebeard!"

Whitebeard laughed as he reassured Marco.

As though he had been given a dose of reassurance, Marco smiled again. "Pops is the strongest man in the world!"

Wano Country, Onigashima.

A towering, burly figure with a pair of horns sat in a chair. With his left hand, he poured liquor into his mouth from a gourd marked with the word "Heaven," while his right held a freshly delivered newspaper for him to read. His entire face was hidden in darkness, making his expression impossible to discern.

"A marine brat? Too bad he isn't a Zoan user... hahahaha!"

The New World, Totto Land Waters, Whole Cake Island.

A middle-aged woman in a pink sundress sat in the hall, her belly swollen, though whether from obesity or pregnancy was unclear. Her enormous hands frantically stuffed the food before her into her mouth. Occasionally, saliva dripped from her cavernous maw and sizzled on the floor, its potent corrosiveness instantly eating pits into the surface.

"Mama, this is today's newspaper," Perospero reported from beside Big Mom, holding a newspaper.

He received no response. Big Mom remained focused on devouring the food before her.

"Mama, a young Navy Supernova defeated that Crocodile." Long accustomed to this, Perospero continued recounting the newspaper's contents to Big Mom.

"The Navy? What about that bastard Garp?"

Suddenly, Charlotte Linlin turned away from her battle with the food and looked at Perospero. Her eyes, framed by crudely applied purple eye shadow, widened like brass bells, frightening him into stumbling backward.

Sabaody Archipelago, Shakky's Rip-off Bar.

An elderly man with long, curly white hair, a thick beard, and round glasses sipped his drink while reading the newspaper on the table. His expression was inscrutable, and a faint smile unconsciously curved his lips.

"The tide of a new era? Roger... is this the era you wanted? A Navy Supernova, huh... Shanks is going to have a rough time."

The End

The Grand Line, the training room of the G-8 fortress.

The training room, its walls lined with iron sheets, was otherwise empty save for a few pieces of exercise equipment and a young figure frantically pounding an enormous block of steel with flesh and blood. Fists, elbows, knees, back—every part of the body was put to use! It was Atlas!

Irregular cracks and fist marks covered the massive steel block, while scattered bloodstains testified to Atlas's efforts. Her height had now settled at two meters eighty. Unlike the delicate features of her youth, her nineteen-year-old face was resolute, its features and contours as sharply defined as though chiseled with a blade.

Years at sea had replaced the fair skin of her youth with a bronze complexion. Her gaze was piercing, and her slightly raised brows lent her a stern air. Rather than a standard Navy cap, she wore her hair short and neat, her whole presence radiating an infectious, sunny vitality.