The Holy Land, Mary Geoise.
Inside the Power Hall, the Five Elders gathered, the atmosphere so heavy it seemed water might drip from it.
Outside the windows, sunlight streamed through stained glass, stretching their shadows long across the floor like five silent statues.
"Kong is about to be promoted to commander-in-chief. We must decide on the next Fleet Admiral as soon as possible," Saint Shepherd Ju Peter said, his hands clasped, his voice low and commanding.
"There is no need to deliberate. Of everyone currently in the Marines, Sengoku is the most suitable candidate."
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro spoke coldly, his hand resting on his sword. "His abilities and qualifications are beyond reproach.
"Besides, the Marines truly need a dove at the helm. The next Fleet Admiral cannot continue taking such a hard line."
"But once Sengoku becomes Fleet Admiral, every Admiral position will be vacant." Saint Marcus Mars frowned deeply, tapping his fingertips against the table.
"The only viable candidates currently in the Marines are Sakazuki, Kuzan, Borsalino... and Gern Reginald Sigma."
The moment Gern's name came up, the temperature in the hall seemed to plummet.
The Five Elders' gazes darkened in unison, and the air grew suffocatingly still.
"Gern..." Saint Topman Warcury began slowly, his mustache trembling slightly.
"He arrested Roger. His prestige has already reached its peak. Within the Marines, and even among most people around the world, he is hailed as a 'legend.'
"But his relationship with the World Government..."
"Do not forget." Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro snorted coldly.
"Back then, he showed the World Government no regard whatsoever. He even humiliated Saint Garling!"
"But the Marines need him." Jaygarcia Saturn Saint tapped his cane against the floor, his voice grave as his deep gaze swept over the other four.
"Roger's final words have ushered in