The Marines Arrived

When Prince Locke found Boer among the newly erected sheet-metal houses in the slums, the metal block behind Boer had already shrunk by nearly half.

By a rough estimate, more than five hundred families had moved into these crude but sturdy and practical new homes.

Locke witnessed Boer's almost prodigal generosity. Though surprised, he offered little comment.

People were always surprisingly tolerant and understanding toward the strong.

He simply assumed that the nobles' greed in the conference room earlier had thoroughly enraged the young man, stirring the "kindness" or "sense of responsibility" deep within him.

"Hey, listen," Locke Hall said, striding closer and deliberately lowering his voice. A trace of gravity replaced his customary smile. "There's news.

"Rear Admiral Bastille Raymont from the Marine Branch, the one known as the 'Iron Man of West Blue,' has arrived at the Steel Club with his men. He asked for you by name."

He paused, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and concern, then narrowed his eyes and added, "Bernia is a World Government Member State, after all. There are bound to be Marine informants in the country. The commotion you caused earlier... was too big. Whether it was the Iron Serpent or that rainbow of energy at the factory, it would have been hard not to attract attention."

Boer was shaping the last stream of metal into a sheet-metal roof. His movements did not falter in the slightest at the news. He finished with precision, then lightly clapped his hands as though he had merely completed some trivial task.

He turned toward the growing crowd around him, their eyes full of hope, and his voice traveled clearly into everyone's ears through the magnetic field:

"I'm sorry, everyone, but something urgent has come up today, so we'll have to stop here for now. Please rest assured that I will keep my promise. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

He offered no further explanation and did not even glance at Locke again before his body slowly rose into the air.

Seeing this, Locke immediately activated his ability as well. Amid a burst of light and feathers, he transformed into a giant golden eagle and flapped his wings to follow.

Under countless gazes filled with gratitude, curiosity, and concern, the two swiftly left the slums, one behind the other, speeding toward the Steel Club.

The wind roared high above the ground. Looking at the calm Boer beside him, Locke spoke in a low voice, the shadow in his eyes lingering.

"I'm afraid they haven't come with good intentions. Relying on you and the community, we've turned this port into a hub for trade and smuggling. Although you didn't personally expand it, those merchants acted on their own for profit, and its scale has grown incredibly fast. The arms trade, especially... If the Marines have come to crack down on arms smuggling, it'll be a huge blow to our preparations for the Heavenly Tribute..."

Boer merely smiled at this and reassured him lightly. "What's there to fear? We haven't massacred civilians or attacked the government. All our business is 'legal.' Surely the Marines wouldn't bring a Buster Call down on a 'law-abiding' merchant in an Affiliated Nation?" Changing the subject, he asked, "How many Marines came this time?"

Their figures swept rapidly over the streets below, prompting citizens to stop and look up, watching curiously as the "Wings of the Kingdom" and the "White Monster" traveled together.

Locke replied, "According to the information we received, only one standard warship arrived, and roughly a hundred Marine soldiers disembarked. But Raymont and his adjutant, Captain Valentine, both came in person."

"Only one ship? Then it might be a good thing." Boer's tone remained relaxed, but deep in his eyes, a fierce eagerness for battle and anticipation quietly flared.

At last, he had an opportunity to truly gauge a representative of this world's official forces and test where his current strength stood!

Although the hazy fragments of memory from his previous life seemed to contain the absurd claim that "Marine Vice Admirals are all just bit players," was that really true here?

Through his Extrasensory Vision, as soon as he approached the club, he had clearly "seen" the life magnetic field in its central area, burning fiercely like a small reactor and radiating astonishing fluctuations of energy!

"That's ridiculous..." Boer murmured despite himself, looking in that direction.

The strength and quality of that life magnetic field far surpassed anyone he had encountered before, himself included-if he excluded his special state during electromagnetic fusion.

"What did you say?" Locke asked, the wind having drowned out the murmur.

Boer withdrew his gaze, a smile blending confidence and fighting spirit appearing on his face. "I said, let's give our honored guests a proper 'welcome'!"

The top-floor conference room of the Steel Club.

The scene was rather comical. Nearly three meters tall, Rear Admiral Bastille Raymont sat on the conference table, which was far too "dainty" for his frame. With almost nowhere to put his long legs, he looked like a giant sitting on a child's chair.

Yet the Marine soldiers standing guard around him were all straight as pines, their eyes fixed forward. They held flintlock rifles, standard-issue sabers hung at their waists, and their faces bore the resolve and impassivity of rigorous training, radiating a lean, formidable air.

They formed a subtle contrast with their commanding officer, displaying the discipline of an elite Marine unit.

Bastille carefully leafed through the thin file on "Aaron Ball" in his hands, his thick fingers brushing over the paper with a soft rustle.

He raised his eyes toward his adjutant, Carl Valentine, who adjusted his glasses beside him with a meticulous expression, and spoke in a voice as deep as rumbling thunder:

"Interesting. According to the file, this boy came from a small village in Brown, a non-Affiliated Nation. Eleven months ago, pirates plundered his village, killing both his parents. He vanished after that.

"Yet when he reappeared, he had already become someone stirring up the Kingdom of Bernia..." He rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Valentine, do you think... we might be able to recruit him into the Marines? This file says he's seventeen at most. That young, with abilities like these..."

Captain Valentine pushed up his glasses, his gaze cool and objective behind the lenses. "Based on past cases, Rear Admiral, children who survive pirate attacks usually harbor extreme hatred toward pirates. Combined with the intelligence we've gathered, his methods of dealing with pirates certainly qualify as brutal. There are multiple recorded instances of him using metal to crush pirates and their ships into 'iron discs,' as well as blowing pirate leaders apart and roasting pirates out of thin air, although we don't know how he accomplished that. Furthermore..."

His tone shifted, a trace of gravity flashing through his eyes. "He is suspected of possessing Conqueror's Haki, has extraordinarily wide-ranging Observation Haki, can fly, and possesses that troublesome Magnet-Magnet Fruit... Objectively speaking, his potential and current threat level have probably already surpassed those three 'monsters' at the same age in the Marine academy. Forgive my bluntness, sir, but I am pessimistic about our chances of successfully recruiting him, or even... effectively subduing him."

Rear Admiral Bastille was about to speak when his thick eyebrows suddenly rose, and his mouth spread into a battle-eager grin. "No need to guess. Our young guest has arrived."

Almost as soon as he finished, clear footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the conference room. After confirming the identities of Boer and Prince Locke, the soldiers guarding the entrance respectfully ushered them inside.

The heavy doors slowly closed behind them, shutting out the outside world.

The atmosphere in the conference room instantly grew tense. Boer's gaze immediately locked onto the enormous figure sitting on the table like an iron tower.

That powerfully built, three-meter frame exerted tremendous pressure. Merely being watched by those sharp eyes felt like being targeted by a humanoid beast, its fierce, iron-blooded presence bearing down on him.

Boer thought to himself, An ordinary person probably wouldn't even have the courage to stand straight in front of someone like this.

His expression remained unchanged, however, and he spoke first, his tone carrying just the right amount of puzzlement and a barely perceptible distance:

"May I ask why two Marine officers have summoned a law-abiding citizen like me here?" He even held out both hands in an almost provocative gesture. "Surely you're not going to arrest me?"

Rear Admiral Bastille gave a booming laugh, as though playing along. "Hahaha! That's right, boy. Your crimes have caught up with you!" With a sweep of his large hand, he casually tossed Boer's file onto the floor beside his feet, his movements bearing the roughness and imposing air particular to a Marine officer.

"You're suspected of forming and leading a pirate force-the former 'Greatsword Pirates' now work for the 'security company' under your command, correct?"

His voice rang like a great bell as he listed the charges one by one.

"Furthermore, several nobles of the Kingdom of Bernia have jointly accused you of murdering the former marquis, Bar Kent, through exceedingly cruel means and appropriating his enormous fortune!"

At this point, his smile faded, and his tone grew exceedingly grave, even carrying a trace of anger. "More importantly, according to our intelligence, you manufactured and sold large quantities of high-grade, standard-pattern blades. These weapons... have already reached the New World and caused severe casualties among our fellow Marines! Mr. Boer, tell me, how should we settle that account?"

"Th-this... how could that be?!" Just the right degree of panic immediately appeared on Boer's face, his acting first-rate. He hurriedly waved his hands and spoke faster.

"Sir, you have to let me explain! I truly didn't know Thatch and his men used to be pirates! I saw how they suffered while working as seaborne merchants, because of certain..."

He deliberately paused, sweeping a meaningful glance over the two Marine officers before him, as though saying, "You understand."

"...because of exploitation by certain 'criminal forces,' so I invited them to form the legitimate Kingdom Security Company, with the original aim of maintaining order in the kingdom. You can investigate it yourselves. Thanks to their efforts, public safety in the Kingdom of Bernia has improved severalfold! We even uprooted its deeply entrenched gangs! In the chaotic West Blue, doesn't that count as an achievement?"

His tone grew even more aggrieved. "As for the nobles' accusations, they're utter nonsense! The old marquis died in a complicated political struggle. His family voluntarily offered me women from their clan to seek my protection and barely preserve their family holdings! I had absolutely nothing to do with it!"

When he finally mentioned the weapons, his expression became "sincere" and "innocent" again. "As for those blades, I did manufacture them. But I can assure you that I have never used them to hurt a single Marine hero who protects peace on the seas! If you're investigating, you should be going after the pirates who bought those weapons and harmed Marines!"

Faced with Boer's string of half-truths and evasive excuses, Rear Admiral Bastille grinned, revealing a smile that saw through it all:

"Enough, you sly brat. Drop the act."

He stood, his enormous figure exerting even greater pressure, and rolled his thick neck with a series of cracks.

"Rules and laws matter on these seas, but in the end, strength always has the final say!"

He gestured at Boer with his chin, his gaze burning. "Come on. Let's spar at the riding grounds below. Let me see just how good the 'White Monster' who's been stirring up West Blue really is. If you're too weak, then everything you just said will become a joke. As for the consequences... you understand."

The feigned panic and grievance instantly vanished from Boer's face, replaced by a heartfelt smile filled with anticipation and fighting spirit.

"I wished for nothing more, but dared not ask." He nodded slightly, his voice clear and calm. "Sir, that's exactly what... I wanted too."