Borsalino blinked, confused as to why Carl was suddenly looking his way.
To be honest, he'd never even considered himself a candidate for the Warrior God of Finance position.
That is, until Carl spoke.
"Borsalino, from now on, you are the new Warrior God of Finance."
The moment those words landed, everyone present froze. Then, as if struck by lightning, they widened their eyes in disbelief. Even Akainu looked stunned. Borsalino himself nearly fell backwards out of his chair.
He pointed to his own nose, eyes full of disbelief.
"You want me to become one of the Five Elders?! Me?!"
Carl nodded and tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingers.
"That's right. It suits you. Now you can even authorize your own pension."
"...Fleet Admiral, isn't that a bit inappropriate?"
"What's inappropriate about it?"
"This position should be held by a Celestial Dragon... I'm not qualified."
Garling looked at Borsalino with surprise. He hadn't expected this laid-back man to actually possess such self-awareness.
Carl simply smiled at his response, fingers drumming lightly on the table as he said calmly:
"Oh? That's nothing to worry about. You're already a Celestial Dragon now, Saint Borsalino."
The title "Saint" exploded in Borsalino's ears like a thunderclap. He wasn't the only one staggered—everyone else, including Akainu, looked equally dazed.
Sainthood!
Borsalino had actually been granted sainthood!
From a mere Admiral of the Marines, he had ascended in one fell swoop to become a Celestial Dragon!
And not just any Celestial Dragon—but one of the Five Elders, one of the supreme rulers of the world!
The leap was absurd. A true ascension to the heavens!
His brain short-circuited on the spot, and the amber-tinted sunglasses on his face slid crookedly across his nose.
...
And yet Carl's "surprise" for everyone wasn't finished.
His gaze swept over the faces at the table before settling on Akainu. He smiled.
"Sakazuki, do you remember what I told you all when we took down the Beasts Pirates years ago? I said that if any of you ever wanted to go traveling in the future, there'd be no need to report it to anyone."
Silence fell over the room. No one quite knew how to express the whirlwind of emotions now surging through their hearts.
Carl raised his wine cup with a grin.
"So, Saints Sakazuki, Kuzan, Aramaki, Borsalino, and Kuma—come, let's drink together."
Kuzan and Aramaki lifted their cups with tear-filled eyes. Borsalino's hand trembled slightly as he raised his own. Kuma cradled his cup with both hands and softly murmured,
"Carl..."
Carl gave him a warm, radiant smile—the same kind he wore back in the Sorbet Kingdom. Kuma felt a strange sense of dizziness wash over him.
In that moment, he felt incredibly lucky to have encountered Carl in the living hell that was the Valley of Gods. Carl's arrival had truly changed the course of his life.
...
Among them, only Akainu hadn't lifted his cup. Carl turned to him and asked,
"Saint Sakazuki, what are you thinking?"
Sakazuki was quiet for a moment, then let out a faint laugh—so faint that Borsalino thought he'd misheard.
Sakazuki looked up, swirled the stemmed glass in his hand, and smiled.
"I was just thinking... this wineglass is a bit too small, don't you think?"
Carl paused for a second, then burst out laughing.
"You're right—it's way too small! Someone, bring in a barrel!"
Soon, a barrel half the height of a grown man was hauled in by the attendants. Everyone stood, each lifting a barrel full of wine with one hand, guzzling it down in deep, echoing gulps.
The Vice Admirals standing in the hall were quickly swept up in the excitement. They were, after all, soldiers—and seeing the top brass behaving this way, they naturally joined in. The atmosphere became festive and rowdy in an instant.
...
After downing half a barrel, Carl set it aside and looked toward Lily, who was still sitting quietly.
"Lily, why don't you join us?"
Lily shook her head. "I don't enjoy—ugh!"
Carl suddenly pressed his hand firmly against her back. A jolt surged through her body, forcing her to spring to her feet.
Furious and flustered, she glared at him, but Carl gave her no chance to protest. With brute insistence, he raised the barrel to her lips and poured a mouthful down her throat.
The dark red wine spilled from the corners of her mouth. Carl grinned devilishly at the sight.
"How does it taste, Lily?"
Her chest heaved violently. She clenched her fists and growled through gritted teeth,
"Saint Carl, my patience has limits!"
"Oh? Then how about showing me where those limits lie?"
"..."
Her face turned from red to purple. She looked on the verge of exploding.
But Carl simply pulled her back into her seat, then turned away and resumed drinking and chatting with Akainu and the others, treating her as though she didn't exist.
...
Clink!
Carl clinked his barrel against Garling's and said,
"Garling-san, doesn't it feel like someone's missing from all this?"
Garling knew exactly who Carl meant. But he didn't reply—he just stared silently at the discarded barrel by his side.
Carl smiled faintly, then said to himself,
"That guy Shanks has been off gallivanting for long enough. It's time he returned to the family."
Finally, Garling couldn't help but speak.
"When's he planning to come back?"
"I've already had the World Economic News Agency prepare everything. As soon as he shows up, his name will be splashed across the headlines. And if he still doesn't come home after that, well... as his older brother, I'll have no choice but to discipline him. Don't feel sorry for him, Garling-san."
Garling shook his head.
"You're the family head now. If it's the family law, my feelings don't matter."
But Carl looked serious.
"No... titles don't matter. You'll always be the uncle I respect most."
Garling paused for a moment, then suddenly chuckled.
"And you'll always be my dearest nephew."
"Oh come on, Garling-san, that was so sappy I almost couldn't take it. Say it again?"
Garling laughed and scolded him.
"You brat, are you drunk already? If you can't hold your liquor, go sit with Monet and the others!"
"Tch! Garling-san, you underestimate me. Even if you hauled in every barrel from Mary Geoise, I'd still drink them dry!"
...
And so, the uncle and nephew kept drinking, draining the last of their barrel between them. By the time the feast neared its end, empty wine barrels were stacked beside Carl's table like a small mountain.
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+150 chapters on p@treon/tambeerg